I made sure everything was set for the feast, told Andrea and all the vendors to call me if a problem arose, then said goodbye to Melanie, Cassie, Renée, and Brandie, and left.
Julia was sequestered with a team of attorneys. Jack was locked away with another team of attorneys. The homicide detectives had been called. Patrick hadn’t shown up yet.
No way did I want to be there when he arrived.
Going to Mom’s for Thanksgiving sounded better than staying at the Spencer-Taft home—that’s how bad I didn’t want to be there—even if I’d likely end up listening to a history lesson about Cuba through dinner.
I pulled out of the driveway and drove away without a backward look. The streets were quiet. Everyone was inside eating turkey, I figured.
Darrell was off the hook—for murder, anyway. I guessed we’d never know for sure if he was blackmailing Veronica to keep quiet about her mom being in prison, or if she was willingly giving him money.
It was small consolation to know that I’d been right all along about Veronica’s planned announcement leading to her death. Hearing that she and Patrick intended to start a family in the coming year had, apparently, been the final straw for Julia.
At the corner I stopped while two catering vans drove past. Seemed nobody in Calabasas was cooking for themselves today.
I turned right, thinking that I might have figured everything out sooner if Patrick had told me what the big announcement was. I guess he’d been too busy running Pammy Candy to realize how important it was to Veronica, and that she’d planned to make a big deal out of it.
Then, too, I might have realized Julia was the murderer if I’d known she’d been lying right from the start. She’d probably figured the police would eventually determine that Veronica was pushed from the balcony so she’d muddied the waters with the story of Veronica leaving Patrick, moving back home, and committing suicide.
Whether Julia would ever get what was coming to her, I didn’t know. She had an excellent team of lawyers and millions of dollars.
I wasn’t sure her freedom would mean much, since her son would likely never speak to her again.
I turned another corner and rolled up to the security gate. The guard was on duty, checking I.D.s, waving people in. The gate slid open and, as I drove through, I noticed a car parked at the curb. A man was standing next to it.
Oh my God. It was Liam.
He was dressed in khaki pants and a pale blue shirt. The breeze had ruffled his hair. He straightened away from the fender when he saw me and shot me a big smile.
I pulled up behind his car. He opened the door for me and I got out.
“What do you call a lawyer who shows up with a picnic lunch on Thanksgiving?” he asked. “A potential boyfriend.”
My insides got all gooey.
I looked inside his car and saw a big wicker picnic basket and a blanket on the back seat. I was totally impressed—with his initiative and the effort he’d put into finding me today.
“Have you been waiting long?” I asked.
“All my life,” he said, and grinned.
Now my toes were curling, too.
“I got the idea you’d be okay with showing up late to your mom’s house,” he said.
“Mom who?” I said, and he chuckled.
“I know a great spot not far from here,” Liam said. “How about it?”
“Sure,” I said.
“I’ll drive.” He told the guard we were leaving my car parked there for a while, then we both got in his car and he drove us to a park a couple of miles away.
We had the place to ourselves, as he spread out the blanket under a tree and unpacked the picnic basket. There were big, hearty turkey sandwiches, potato salad, chocolate-chip cookies, and two bottles of wine.
“What do you call a lawyer who tries to get a girl drunk on the first date?” he asked. “Thinking ahead.”
He passed me a plate loaded with food, and a glass of wine. We ate and chatted for a while.
“Can I get your opinion on something?” he asked.
I was feeling pretty mellow—though I wasn’t sure if it was from the wine or Liam’s presence.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and started scrolling through screens.
“My sister works at Neiman Marcus. They just got these in stock and they’re holding them for a mid-December sale,” he said. “But she thought my other sister would love one so she suggested I buy it for her for Christmas. What do you think?”
Liam passed me his cell phone and—oh my God—there was the most fabulous handbag I’d ever seen. My heart started to beat faster. It was a gorgeous clutch in rich dark leather with a ruby Swarovski crystal clasp.
“I love this bag.” I might have said that kind of loud.
Liam leaned back a little.
“I absolutely must have it.” Yeah, I really said that too loud. I offered him a quick smile. “I’m kind of a nut about designer handbags.”
“To designer handbags,” he said, and lifted his wine glass. We toasted and drank, then he said. “I can ask my sister to hold one for you.”
“I need two,” I said. “One for my best friend Marcie.”
“No problem,” he said.
Oh my God, this was my best Thanksgiving ever.
Then something hit me.
“Hey, wait,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to spend Thanksgiving with your family?”
“Mom had us going to dinner at the house of a friend of hers,” Liam said. “Some place out in La Cañada Flintridge.”
Wow, that was a coincidence. My mom and dad lived in La Cañada Flintridge.
“Mom had been friends with this woman for years,” Liam said. “Don’t laugh, but my mom used to be in beauty pageants.”
Okay, that was weird. My mom used to be in beauty pageants.
“There was some talk about a daughter who was a model,” he said.
Huh. My sister did some modeling.
“I think it was a set up,” he said
I got a weird feeling.
Liam shook his head. “It didn’t sound like a great idea to me—the setup or the dinner.”
My weird feeling got totally weird.
“She was serving Cuban food,” he said. “Crazy, huh?”
Oh my God—oh my God.
Liam was the guy. The one Mom had picked out for my sister.
Oh, crap.
THE END