I found Gilley in the kitchen, tearfully sniffing as he stared at his laptop screen. “Gil?” I asked, surprised to find my permanent guesthouse resident and dear friend so upset. “What’s happened?”
Gilley jumped at the sound of my voice. He obviously hadn’t heard me come downstairs. Once he recovered himself, he swiveled the laptop around so that I could see. There, on the screen was a video clip of M.J. Whitefeather, Gilley’s best friend and former business partner, sitting in a rocking chair, with two babies cuddled against her and a towel draped over her chest. She was obviously nursing the twins.
Entering the screen to the right was a toddler, stumbling a little as she walked, obviously still half asleep. Suddenly, the voice of Heath, M.J.’s husband, could be heard. “Such a good mama, feeding the babies at five a.m.,” he cooed.
M.J. glanced up at the camera, revealing dark circles and half-lidded eyes. She looked so tired, the poor love. I could sympathize. I’d had twins when I was about her age. It’s not for the weak.
“Is she getting any sleep?” I asked Gilley.
He wiped at his cheeks with a tissue. “Not a lot,” he said. “According to Heath, Skylar seems to be nocturnal, and Chase has trouble with gas or something that makes him fussy. Margot just entered her terrible twos, so the whole thing’s a disaster, if you ask me.”
I chuckled and came around the side of the island where Gilley was sitting to hug him around the shoulders. “You really miss them, don’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” he asked in a choked whisper. “But I especially miss M.J. We were inseparable for almost thirty years, and now the only time I get to see her is when she has the energy to call or Zoom with me, or when Heath sends me a clip, like this one.”
I sat down next to Gil and took up his hand. “It’s going to be really hard for her until the twins are in kindergarten,” I said. “Then things will settle down, and she’ll be in touch more.”
“They’re three months old, Cat. You’re telling me I have to wait five years to connect regularly with my best friend again?”
I squeezed his hand. I understood that, deep down, Gilley was actually happy that M.J. had found her soul mate and was building a family with him, but I also knew that the adjustment of giving her up to Heath, Skylar, Chase, and Margot was exceptionally difficult.
“You could always fly out to see her,” I suggested. The Whitefeathers lived in New Mexico.
Gilley scowled. “I don’t do babies. The dirty diapers alone would have me running for the hills.”
I cocked my head at him. He’d been living in my guesthouse for nearly two years now, and I was still learning new and interesting things about him. “You and Michel have never considered having a baby together?” I asked, referring to Gilley’s husband.
“Nope,” he said, a note of tension in his voice. Michel had spent much of the pandemic locked down in the UK, and it’d put a definite strain on their marriage. And ever since the vaccine had been widely distributed, Michel still continued to take assignments as an in-demand fashion photographer, out of the country.
“Although,” Gilley continued, “I have been contemplating adopting a puppy.”
My brow arched in surprise. “Really?”
“As long as it’s okay with my landlord, of course,” he said.
I waved my hand. “Of course, it’s all right, Gilley.”
In fact, it was more than all right. Poor Gil had been a bit lonely of late, ever since my boys went back to boarding school and I had more time to spend with my current love interest, Detective Steve Shepherd.
I realized as I stared at my dear friend that since the boys left two weeks earlier, I’d hardly spent any of my free time with Gilley. Oh, sure, we saw each other at work—he was my personal assistant—and we typically shared lunch together, but we hadn’t really spent any quality time together, and I suddenly found myself feeling guilty over that.
“Gilley,” I said, trying to pump a little enthusiasm into my voice. “Why don’t you and I go out on the town tonight?”
Gilley slid his gaze toward me, his lids weighed down by skepticism. “Don’t you have a date with Shepherd?”
“We have nothing planned,” I lied, knowing I’d have to cancel our plans for dinner the moment I was out of earshot. “Come on, Gil, it’s supposed to be a beautiful night, and we can go out to eat, do a little shopping, and . . . Ooh! I’ve got it! We could take in that hot new show at John Drew Street Theater!”
I’d wanted to catch the show everyone in town was talking about ever since I learned it was opening in late August. The show was a take on a famous classic, but with a clever twist. “You and I have both said we’d love to see Twelve Angry Men. Why not go tonight?”
Gilley frowned. “You’re kidding, right? Tickets are impossible to get, Cat. It’s totally sold out for the next three months.”
Clearly, Gilley had been doing a little research into this very subject, which made my smile all the wider. “I can get us tickets,” I said.
“You know a scalper?”
“Better. I know Yelena Galanis’s best friend.” Yelena Galanis was the star of the one-woman show, aptly titled Twelve Angry Men, in which she told the story of the twelve rich and powerful East Hamptonites she’d used and abused over the years. Word on the street suggested it was a scintillating hoot.
“You do?” Gilley said. “Who?”
“Sunny D’Angelo,” I said, with a bounce to my brow. “She and Yelena go way back. I think they were college roommates or in the same sorority. And Sunny has already mentioned that she can score us tickets anytime we want.”
Still, Gilley looked doubtful. With a sigh, he said, “I don’t know that I’m in the mood for it, Cat.”
I rubbed his arm. “Oh, come on, Gil. It’s been forever since the two of us were out on the town together. Besides, what else are you going to do? Sit home and watch VH1?”
Gilley frowned, and I knew that was exactly what he’d planned on doing. “Ru’s doing a special on the best of the drag racers,” he said.
“Record it and watch it later,” I suggested.
He made a face, but I could tell his resolve was cracking. “Where would we go to dinner?” he asked.
“Well, the Beacon is still open for another two weeks, and we haven’t been there in forever. What do you say to that?”
“Hmm, I do love to be seen at the Beacon,” Gilley said of the yacht-club bistro.
I grinned. I knew I had him. “What’ll we wear?”
Gilley couldn’t resist planning his outfits ahead of time. “You should wear that red, off-the-shoulder number,” he said, referring to the new Versace deep red dress with flared sleeves and skirt that I’d purchased only a week earlier. I’d been saving it for a special occasion out with Shepherd, but I could certainly wear it out tonight for Gilley.
“Done,” I said. “And you, sir? What will you wear?”
A smile began to form on Gilley’s lips. “I think,” he said, tapping his lips, “that I’ve been looking for an opportunity to wear my new Ted Baker suit.”
“The light gray plaid?”
Gilley nodded. “I’ve got a gorgeous black silk shirt to wear with it. The contrasts are delicious.”
“Then you must wear it,” I said, watching as Gilley began to show some enthusiasm.
“Okay,” he said after taking another moment to think on it. “It’s a date, Cat.”
“Excellent!” I said, moving in to hug him around the shoulders. “I have a few errands to run before my client today at one, but I can call Sunny from the car and see if she can’t scrounge up a pair of tickets for us.”
“Cool,” he said, hopping off the chair at the island. Pointing to the counter near the sink, he added, “There’s a quiche that I took out of the oven a bit ago. It should be cool enough to eat by now. Let me know if we’re a go for tonight so I can pull out the suit and steam out the wrinkles.”
“Did you want to come with me to run the errands?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Can’t. I’ve got a massage with Reese at ten.”
My brow arched. “Again?” I asked carefully. Reese was an absolutely breathtaking man, who reminded me very much of the late Christopher Reeve at the height of his Superman career. Reese was also someone I knew Gilley had a monstrous crush on.
“Yes, again,” Gilley said moodily.
“You’ve been seeing a lot of him lately,” I said, undaunted, because I needed to understand Gilley’s thinking here. Even though I knew he and Michel were struggling in their relationship, I felt strongly that if Gilley strayed, he’d regret it.
My dear friend sighed. “There’s nothing going on, Cat.”
“Okay, but could there be at some point, Gilley?”
Reese’s sexual exploits into the beds of many of the Hamptons elite were an open secret. He was rumored to be a very . . . shall we say, talented lover, and he had no preference as to which team he’d pitch for on any given day. He was as sought after by women as he was by men.
Gilley glared at me. I held his eyes and didn’t look away. At last, he threw up his arms and said, “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“If you don’t know, Gilley, then it might be best to resist the urge until you deal with your relationship with Michel. And I say that as a friend to both you and him, okay?”
Gilley nodded. “It’s just nice to get some attention, you know?”
I bit my lip, the guilt of a few minutes ago returning. “I do,” I said. “And I’m sorry that I haven’t been paying nearly as much attention to our friendship as I should have.”
The edges of Gilley’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “You’re forgiven.”
“Good. Now, come with me to run those errands.”
To my surprise, Gilley shook his head no again. “I’m going to keep my appointment with Reese.” When I again arched my brow, he added, “I may be married, but I’m not dead. I’m allowed to flirt.”
I held back the protest I badly wanted to make and settled for a simple nod. It was Gilley’s life and relationship to work out, not mine. “I’ll text you if I hear back from Sunny before I meet you at the office.”
“I’ll get there a little early and throw on some tea for you and your one o’clock.”
“Thank you, lovey. You’re a doll.” With that, I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, before I headed out the door.
As soon as I pulled out of the driveway, I called Sunny.
“Hi, Cat,” she said, sounding weary.
“Sunny?” I said. I hadn’t seen much of Sunny over the summer, which, I’ll admit, was odd, given that she was Shepherd’s twin sister. And I definitely hadn’t seen much of her while the pandemic was on. As the mother of a baby—and now toddler—she’d been especially careful to protect little Finley.
“Yes, I’m here,” she said, probably thinking that I hadn’t heard her the first time.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Shepherd had told me that his sister had been struggling recently, and by the sound of her voice, I wondered if she might be ill.
“Yeah,” she said on a sigh. “I’m fine. Just a bout of insomnia, and Finley started becoming a real handful just after his second birthday.”
“Ah the terrible twos,” I said. My boys had gotten up to all sorts of mischief when they were Finley’s age.
“He’ll be the death of me,” she said, but added a tired smile.
I could tell she was trying to appear like her old self. Sunny had been very aptly named.
I grinned when I heard the old playful enthusiasm back in her voice. “Do you remember when you said that you had an in with Yelena Galanis?”
Sunny chuckled. “You want tickets, don’t you?”
“Only if it won’t cause you any trouble.”
“It won’t,” she assured me. “I’ve been meaning to take Finley over to see her for ages. This’ll give me an excuse, and Yelena always has extra seats on hand for just such an occasion.”
“Have you caught her act yet?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting for Darius to come home from L.A., and then we’ll go.”
“Is he away again?” Darius worked in the music business, and he spent more time on the West Coast than he did at his home here in East Hampton.
It secretly upset me because it left Sunny to care for Finley for long stretches at a time without any help from the boy’s father.
“Yes, but he’s on his way back,” she said. “He’ll be here late tonight, in fact.”
I let out a relieved sigh. “Well, that’s good. And you promise it’s no trouble to ask Yelena for a couple of tickets?”
“I promise, Cat. I’ll call you in a bit to let you know, though, okay?”
I said my goodbyes to Sunny and called her brother.
“Hey there,” he said, his voice warm and throaty. I shimmied a little in my seat. Shepherd could light the home fires with just a greeting, and it was a delicious thing to be the object of his affections.
“Hey there,” I repeated. “Got a second?”
“For you? Always.”
This was a lie, as I knew from experience. Whenever Shepherd was knee-deep into working a case, my phone calls went straight to voice mail. But I was hardly going to remind him of that at the moment. “Listen,” I began. “About tonight . . .”
“Something’s come up,” he said, beating me to the punch.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Gilley.”
Shepherd chuckled. “Ah,” he said. “Our third wheel.”
“Hey, he’s not a third wheel, Shep, okay?” I’d adopted the nickname Shep for Shepherd after I recently discovered that was what most of the other men in blue from the East Hampton PD called him.
“Okay, okay,” Shepherd said, and I could almost see him holding up his hands in surrender. “He’s feeling neglected, though, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “So, I’ve decided to take a rain check with you and focus on Gilley for tonight.”
“That’s fine, Cat,” he said, using the nickname common to most of my friends and family, instead of the more formal Catherine, which he’d insisted on using for the first few months of our relationship.
“I’m free most of this week,” he continued. “Just let me know when your schedule clears up, okay?”
“I will,” I promised. “And if you want to come over late tonight, I won’t say no.”
Shepherd made a growling sound. “You’re a temptress, you know that?”
“I do,” I said, smiling wickedly. “I’ll tell Sebastian to let you in if you feel like spending the night. Gilley and I should be home around eleven, I think.” Sebastian was my AI butler. Much like Google Nest, but much more sophisticated.
“See you then,” he promised.
A bit later, after I had run all my errands, I was headed back to the house to drop off a few packages before driving across town to my office when Sunny called me. “Hey, where are you?” she asked the moment I picked up the call.
“Um, I’m driving back to my house. Why? Do you need something?”
“I got the tickets,” Sunny said. In the background I could hear Finley fussing, and there was that exhausted tone in Sunny’s voice again. “Can you swing by to pick them up? Finley and I both need a nap.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m rounding the corner onto your street as we speak.”
“Oh, I see your car,” Sunny said, and up ahead I saw her Range Rover pull into her driveway.
I parked and was out of the car first, and then I trotted over to hold Sunny’s car door open so that the windy day didn’t bang her door against her as she reached in to get Finley out of his car seat. The poor tyke was red faced and crying, and as Sunny backed up with him cradled in her arms, I was taken aback by the dark circles under her eyes and the sag to her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she said. “The tickets are in my purse. Come on in and I’ll fish them out for you.”
I held my arms out toward Finley, who was kicking and fussing in his mother’s embrace, and made a “gimme” motion with my hands. I’d been that overwhelmed and exhausted mother once. I knew when it was time to volunteer to take charge.
Sunny’s expression was a bit apprehensive but also relieved. “He’s super fussy, Cat,” she said.
“Yes, which is why you should give him to me so that I can help you, instead of standing around waiting for you to be supermom and super friend all at the same time.”
Sunny hesitated one more second, but then she lifted Finley away from her and pivoted him around to me. I took the tyke and held him close, relishing the feeling of holding a small toddler again. It made me miss my sons even more than usual, but it was also the right thing to do.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” I said to Finley, bouncing him gently in my arms.
He pulled his head back, probably startled to be in someone else’s arms, and that was all the opening I needed. I made a goofy face, and his expression turned from sour to unsure and then to nearly a grin.
“Who’s a boogley boo?” I asked him, still bouncing him up and down playfully, while Sunny retrieved a bag of groceries from the car.
“We can go in through the garage,” she said, clicking a switch on her key fob. The garage door creaked open a few feet then stopped. “Oh, come on,” Sunny grumbled. “Not today!”
“What’s wrong?” I asked as Sunny clicked the button on her key fob again and the door came down.
“It’s the stupid garage door. It keeps sticking. Sometimes I can’t get it to come down. Sometimes I can’t get it to go up.”
She clicked the fob a third time and the door slowly rose and this time it went all the way to the top. “Whew,” she said.
I smiled, bouncing Finley in my arms as he played with my hair.
“This way,” Sunny said, leading us into the garage. “Watch your step,” she added as she pointed down to a pile of supplies made up of a big carton of disposable water bottles, paper towels, laundry detergent, and various other household cleaning supplies. “I went to Costco yesterday,” she explained as I waited for her to unlock the door.
“I love Costco,” I said, following her through the now unlocked door into the kitchen. “Gilley and I go once a month, so if you ever need anything from there, just ask, Sunny, and we can pick it up for you.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she moved to set down her groceries. “You two are my angels,” she said. Then she pointed to a high chair at the table. “You can set Finley down in the high chair.”
I shook my head because I wasn’t about to put the child down. He was mocking my facial expressions and giggling along with me, and it was a glorious exchange that was also allowing Sunny to get herself organized.
“Oh, where did I set my purse?” she said, spinning around and looking at the counter and nearby breakfast table.
“I didn’t see you bring it in,” I told her.
Sunny sighed heavily. “It’s still out in the car,” she moaned.
“Hey,” I said to her to get her attention. “When was the last time you had a proper meal?”
Sunny pushed at a stray strand of her long blond hair that had pulled free of her ponytail. The way her hair was pulled back today showed how thin she’d become since the last time I saw her. It worried me.
“I eat when he eats,” she said.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “And I bet it’s about the same size meal too.”
Sunny ignored my concern. “I’ll eat as soon as I get him down.”
“Or you could fix yourself a little nosh right now, my friend, and let me put him down for a nap.” Not waiting for an okay from her, I edged toward the hallway leading to the stairs. “The nursery is the first door on the right past the stairs, correct?”
Again, Sunny’s shoulders sagged with relief. Finley had fallen against my shoulder, the novelty of making funny faces at me having lost out to exhaustion.
“Yes,” she said. “But, really, Cat, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I told her. “Now, get yourself a sandwich or something. I’ll be down as soon as he’s asleep.”
I took Finley up the stairs slowly and carefully so as not to joust him. I’d picked up a pacifier off the kitchen drying rack as I’d passed it on the way to the stairs, and the little tot was sucking on it with heavy-lidded eyes as I crested the landing.
“Here we go,” I said, walking down the hallway and heading into the nursery.
I’d last been here when Finley was a newborn, just as the pandemic was starting to exact its terrible toll on the world. I smiled as I entered, remembering the photos lining the wall that Sunny had been in the middle of putting up.
A series on the far left wall was the most inviting—it began with a breathtaking shot of Sunny, radiant in the early evening light, her hands placed protectively over her belly, as she leaned against the porch railing of the D’Angelos’ old home in L.A. The twinkling lights of downtown could be seen at the bottom of the image. I knew from Sunny that Darius had taken the photo in the moments after Sunny had revealed her pregnancy to him. She’d said he’d been so excited to capture the moment that he’d insisted on the photo and every one after it, taken one a month for nine in total. The last one included a tiny baby, laid against the bare chest of his mother.
What always took me by surprise was the look of unconditional love on Sunny’s face as she smiled at her husband while he chronicled her pregnancy. I didn’t really understand their marriage—Darius was gone far too often for my taste—but the adoration in Sunny’s expression was so obvious that it was unmistakable. They loved each other, and their marriage worked for them, so who was I to judge?
I laid Finley down in his bed, then gently eased off his shoes and socks to expose his little feet and button toes. I placed my hand around one of his feet and smiled at the feel of baby skin against my palm. My mind’s eye filled with images of my sons, Matthew and Michael, at Finley’s age, and I teared up a bit as I laid a blanket over the toddler, who was already asleep, his mouth still working the pacifier.
Pulling up the guard rail on his toddler bed, I moved over to the photos of Sunny through her pregnancy. Darius had quite the artist’s eye for photography. The backdrop for each photo was nearly as eye catching as the central figure.
The second photo in the series, taken when Sunny was about two months along, featured Sunny perched atop the railing, staring out at the early evening view of downtown L.A., where a few twinkles of light could already be seen. It gave the viewer the impression of Sunny as the Greek goddess Aphrodite looking down from Olympus to Athens below.
A few images to the right was one of a playful Sunny clad in a tiny bikini, which even five or six months along in her pregnancy she could still pull off beautifully. She was laughing in the spray of an outdoor shower, and there was such joy on her face. I stood in front of the image and mentally noted how different Sunny looked back then compared to today.
As if on cue, I heard the sound of something behind me and turned to see her there, a weary smile on her face, watching me standing in front of the photos. “Did he go down okay?” she whispered, glancing toward the bed.
I nodded.
Sunny came over to stand next to me as I looked back to the photos. “Where was this one taken?” I asked softly.
“Here,” she said, smiling at the memory. “That was the day that Darius closed on the house in L.A. and we played in the surf most of the afternoon to celebrate. That shower is so cold,” Sunny chuckled. “Darius loves it but I don’t think I’ve used it since.”
“You look like you’re having fun,” I said, grinning too.
“Oh, he probably said something hilarious. I just remember I was so relieved to have Darius back here, and be rid of the fake, money-fame-success-focused crowd. I’d already moved back to this house, which we bought, oh, about ten years ago. It was our vacation pad, if you can believe it, but as soon as I found out I was pregnant, I packed up and moved. No way was I about to raise my kid in La-La Land.”
“What’s wrong with L.A.?” I asked. I’d been there only a few times, but I’d found it okay.
Sunny made a face. “It’s full of fake people with far too much money and privilege. I didn’t want our son to grow up a spoiled brat, surrounded by other spoiled brats, so I told Darius that I was headed home to New York, and I expected him to split his tim. . .
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