and served pizza for supper instead.
CHAPTER SIX
“FROM THE mouths of babes,” Deidre said. “And what did you tell him?”
“That he was right, of course, because life isn’t always fair.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve known that Murray boy since he knocked on my door and offered to shovel my sidewalks and driveway...and you know how long and winding that is! He couldn’t have been more than twelve. Wouldn’t take a dime because my husband—do you remember him? Brooke’s grandfather?—was in the hospital at the time.”
Bianca pictured the regal-looking gentleman who’d helped Deidre raise Brooke and her sister, Beth, after their parents’ fatal car crash. The couple attended more events at the girls’ high school than most parents, so although she’d never officially met the man, Bianca remembered him well.
“Logan was a sweetheart then,” Deidre went on to say, “and he’s a sweetheart now. I’d bet the success of my theater that he’ll move heaven and earth to help you get a dog for that terrific kid of yours.” She paused but only long enough to take a breath. “So what I’m saying in a roundabout way is, don’t be an idiot, girl. Let him help you!”
Thanks to her mother’s appetite for the theater, Bianca had had numerous opportunities to interact with Deidre over the years. Almost from the start, the two had forged a strong bond—which perplexed everyone, Maddy in particular—because they had so little in common. But Deidre was everything Bianca wished she could be: energetic and glamorous with a fearless attitude toward life and love...and speaking her mind.
“Okay, lady,” she teased, “I can take a hint. Soon as I get home, I’ll try calling him.”
“‘Do or do not,’” Deidre said, quoting Yoda, “‘there is no try.’”
The back screen door slammed and heavy footfalls moved up the hall.
“Good grief,” Deidre said. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”
Bianca followed her gaze to the dark-haired man who stood in the parlor doorway.
“Remember when I said we’d make one heck of a couple,” he began, “if I were older?”
Deidre blushed. “How could I forget? You made the inane announcement in front of the entire cast of Guys and Dolls!”
“That’s right. Which is exactly why you owe me one.”
“Owe you? For what!”
“For giving the wannabe actors who follow you around a new way to butter you up in the hope of snagging a leading role.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, handsome. I’ve heard ’em all. Now, bring your ornery self in here so I can introduce you to my pretty young friend. Bianca Wright, meet Griffin Gerrard.”
He stopped several feet from Bianca’s chair and cocked his head to the side, as if trying to remember if they’d met before. “Call me Griff. I’d shake your hand, but as you can see,” he said, showing his grass-stained palms, “your old friend here is a real slave driver.”
“Careful who you’re calling old, dollface, or I might show up at your fancy-pants office and tell your fancy-pants clients that their high-priced lawyer didn’t read his lease before he signed it.”
“Didn’t think I needed to, friend.” Griff pretended to frown. “If I’d known you had added a Work for Cheap Rent clause...”
“You’re so full of stuff and nonsense, I’m amazed it doesn’t leak from your ears!” Deidre leaned closer to Bianca to add, “Only reason I tolerate this young rascal is because his father and my dear departed Percy were the best of friends.” Eyes on Griff again, she snorted. “You know as well as I do there’s no such clause in our lease. And wasn’t it just your good fortune when the Patapsco River overflowed its banks and flooded your entire first floor—and an exterminator said he’d need to tarp the house—that you could rent a room from me, instead of checking into a hotel for months?”
“A tarp?” Bianca echoed. The image of a house overrun with bugs sent a shiver down her spine. “Sounds serious.”
He sat on the arm of the sofa. “Could have been worse,” he began, “if I hadn’t caught it early. Kept hearing this tick-tick-ticking in the walls.” Griff clicked his thumbnail against the nail of his index finger. “All day. All night. One day it drove me crazy enough to tear down a sheet of paneling, and I found evidence of wood bores feasting on the studs.” He counted on his fingers. “So in the past month, I’ve hired one contractor to vacuum water out of the basement and seal the foundation, two more to replace the plumbing and wiring and another to waterproof the cellar walls. And when they’re finished, an exterminator will tarp the house and pump a truckload of insecticide inside. Unless he’s a con man, the stuff will kill the wood bores’ eggs, too.” He shrugged. “But nobody forced me to buy a hundred-year-old house.”
Deidre leaned closer to Bianca. “Do you believe in coincidence?”
“I suppose. Maybe. Sometimes.”
“Well, for your information—oh mistress of certitude—this handsome lawyer here is like this,” Deidre said, crossing her fingers, “with your Logan.”
What did she mean by her Logan?
“Ah, now I know why your name sounded so familiar,” Griff said.
His comment made even less sense than Deidre’s. Even after studying Logan’s press kit she knew very little about him, and he knew even less about her. What could he have shared with Griff?
She might have put the question to him if Deidre hadn’t chosen that moment to hop up from her chair.
“Goodness gracious sakes alive!” Bangle bracelets and the hodgepodge of beads and chains wrapped around her neck rattled and clinked as she jogged into the foyer. “I need to be at the theater in half an hour.” After pulling a tube of lipstick from her blue silk trousers pocket, she leaned into the big oval mirror and added a layer of bright red to her puckered mouth. “We’re doing Dial M for Murder,” she said, repocketing the tube. “If you two want to come on opening night, say the word and I’ll save you a couple of tickets.”
“Dee. Dahling,” Griff said, “you know as well as I do that Hitchcock plays aren’t my cup of tea.”
“The way you butcher a British accent, it’s a good thing you didn’t audition for the play!” She fluffed gleaming, chin-length white tresses. “How ’bout you, Bianca? Think Drew could sit through two hours of mystery and mayhem?”
Not without earplugs, a blindfold and a prescription for Ritalin, Bianca thought. “Maybe in a few years, when he’s a little more mature.” Someday, she hoped, the day would come when Drew could enjoy things like movies in a real theater or live performances onstage. “But thanks for the invitation.”
Deidre grabbed her cloak from the hall tree. “Tell your mom to call me, Bee-darling,” she said, whirling it around her shoulders. “Haven’t seen her in weeks. Bet she could use a night off, poor thing.”
Poor thing?
