

A MONTH IN THE COLONIES

By

Pringle McCloy

Smashwords Edition
Copyright: A Month in the Colonies

Category: Literary

Innovation, Science and Economic Development Canada

June 6, 2018

11519223

# Prologue

In retrospect, it hardly matters whether it was providence, karma or pure bad luck that led me on a fateful journey. As I recall, it was only after my husband decided to run off with my money that I dared to contemplate a house exchange abroad. Escapism is my forte, although it was a blog that caught my attention. The blog read: _unlike the bone-chilling winters in London, winters in Toronto are dry. People here wholeheartedly support the seal hunt and own three furs each to prove it_. Really? What had I to lose?

Everything, actually. While Google Earth had taken me to a posh place in Forest Hill, a mansion surrounded by trees, what it neglected to say was that the nice Nigerian man who'd promised it up didn't actually live there. No, he was now living in my house in Kensington, cleaning out the silver. And the nasty little bloke who met me at the door of his Toronto residence was not Jack Black.

"If you're not the new cook go away," he barked. "And take your twenty-seven hundred ratty suitcases with you."

The little troll stood squarely planted before me, two hostile hands poised in my direction. A shock of yellow hair sprouted from the top of his head and beneath a furrowed forehead two piercing blue eyes sliced through me like a chainsaw. He looked hilarious, really, squeezed into a purple spandex jumpsuit and with fuzzy pink slippers anchoring him to the floor.

"They're not ratty," I said defensively. "A bit dusty, perhaps. It was a dusty trip."

His narrow upper lip curled into a snarl. "Are you the new cook or are you not the new cook?"

I drew myself to my full 1.63 metres. "Not the cook. I am the house sitter. From the blog."

He shot me a quizzical look. "The Blog? Where exactly is The Blog? Poland?"

After a rousing discussion on the likelihood of my gaining access to his Forest Hill home I was forced to face a horrible truth. I'd been duped. And so much for dry winters in Toronto. Rain poured from the marble canopy and went gushing down the driveway to the gutters in the street. Being a fast thinker I weighed my options. I could either stand there shaking like an electric chair victim or order a taxi to _The Four Seasons Hotel_. As a third option, I could cry and beg – if not for Yellow Head's tightly-clenched teeth. Plan B. I'd come for adventure, had I not? Although I could return to my creaky old mansion at any time and try to oust the poacher, I chose otherwise.

"In the UK I'm known as a marvelous cook. A Nigella Lawson of sorts."

He shrugged.

"A Julia Child?"

He nodded. Julia he'd heard of.

"I just might be the person you've been looking for."

"I doubt it." He was openly analyzing me. "You have a lot of hair for a cook. You look like a white Diana Ross. With freckles. Do you happen to sing?"

I wanted to clunk him on the head. "I don't actually wear my hair like this. It's the rain that's done it to me."

"How old are you? Twelve?"

"I'm thirty. Although it's none of your business."

He opened the door wide. "Well, you have nice brown eyes so bring in your bags while I put you through the test."

Oh, oh. A test. Now he'd know that I only burned water and that I had a cook of my own who was likely serving up the Nigerian on the silver tray I inherited from my mum, perhaps even propositioning him. In the days to come I would learn many lessons in Canada. I'd learn from a yellow-haired man named Rocco (Joseph at birth), a Mafia princess named Victoria, a conniving orange cat called Suki, and from a grocery chain called _Loblaw's,_ with its magical _President's Choice_. Surviving in outer space as a cook may well be worth starting a blog over, I was thinking. _A Month in the Colonies,_ I'd call it _._ If I lasted that long.

**** Mental Note for Blog.

Spaceship Millennium Sparrow safely docked at colony. Met by rude officious alien. Brochure misleading. Canadians not friendly. Are wiry little creatures with yellow hair and sharp teeth. Pale complexion thus the nickname 'Pinky.' Will not stay a light year as originally planned. Already powering up. Spacewarp? Fark.

# Chapter One

Red Flag. The man who called himself Rocco backed into the house, toppling over himself with audacity, while I collected my twenty-seven hundred ratty suitcases and traipsed along behind. Such chivalry! I followed the bootie-shaking Rocco through a grand foyer, up a flight of winding stairs, across a hallway as long as Yonge Street, then down the same dramatic staircase on the opposite side of the house. Loaded down like a donkey I didn't see the fun.

"Road trip!" he announced with a degree of sarcasm. "Your room is on the main floor at the back of the house."

"How very kind of you!"

"No problem. You're a little chunky so any form of exercise will likely do you good."

He was testing me all right. If only I'd hired that personal trainer I'd vaguely thought about. I huffed and puffed. "Chunky? Chunky? Why, because water to me is for quenching a thirst and not a complete diet? Because I am a real woman?" I ranted on.

"Sorry, hon. Women are of no interest to me at all. Chunky or otherwise. So hitting on me will get you absolutely nowhere."

Right. I had every intention of hitting on the arrogant little twerp. Big deep breath. "I can't imagine why I'd hit on you, sir. You're about as charming as a rattlesnake and you look like a canary." Eek. Where did that come from? Where was the polite British girl my mother had begrudgingly raised? Was I going to get myself sacked before even getting started in my very first job?

Rocco laughed his head off. "You're funny, hon! But you'll have to try harder if you want to offend me." Again he turned and prissily pranced away. "Come on, sunshine, it's time for you to meet the princess. Oh, and by the way, there's no smoking in this house. Or on the grounds. Suki is allergic."

Great then. So much for the Pullman case of Silk Cuts. I followed Rocco into the kitchen where he proceeded to launch a crackling speech on renovations and of how top-flight Toronto designer, Brian Einstein, had transformed a dungeon. It was impressive, I had to admit: glossy mahogany cabinets with glass doors for exposing someone's penchant for neat and tidy; glittery chandeliers dangling over a massive, granite-topped island upon which a great fat, orange cat loomed with authority.

"This is Suki," Rocco said proudly, like he'd given birth to the monstrous thing. "You can call her Suk or Suki but never Cat. She hates that. She doesn't know she is one."

She wasn't one actually. She was more like a hissing buffalo. "How do you know that? Did she tell you verbatim that she's not a cat?"

"Aren't you the mouthy one! Just know this. Suki rules. She's a rescued barn cat who can be quite fierce when challenged."

"I see. So, I'm not to challenge the C-a-t."

"You got it."

Suki took to hissing a warm welcome at me.

"This is her domain," Rocco continued to drone. "She lives on this island and she's territorial. You'll have to ease your way in gently."

"You mean with a cleaver?"

Rocco was essentially disinterested in further discussing conflict and resolution – that of woman and cat. Instead he twirled around tornado style and strutted to the open hallway. "I'll leave the two of you to bond then, Sophie, since you seem to enjoy trouble."

"I'm allergic to cats," I yelled behind him. "Every time I eat one I get sick!" And to the cat, which was now on her feet hissing and arching her back in a horseshoe of defiance, I said, "CAT. C-a-t. And you _are_ one by the way. I'll even show you in the mirror."

She violently hissed.

"And in the simplest of terms it's either you or me, Cat. C-a-t!" With that I frantically rummaged through the drawers for a weapon.

**** Log Book, Night, November 30

Space-cat-et? Walking carpet of a beast. Chewbacca, minus the loyalty factor. Suspect dandruff, even mynock's nest, in coat. Attitude. High numbers for Star Wars between Madclaw and me. Will try to bring her back from the darkside but not holding breath. Need serious help from the force. Snark!

# Chapter Two

In a panic I called the cook I'd inherited from my mom.

"You realize it's three a.m. here, Sophie?" Potsy barked. "Quarter past, actually. What could be so important as to wake me in the middle of the night?"

"It's not the middle of the night for you, Pots. You're up at 5 a.m. It's almost morning for you in London."

"Haven't you done enough?"

Eek! I was in trouble.

"Your Nigerian is a bully. He orders me around like a servant."

What? Potsy Higgins a servant? She'd be all over him like London fog. "How's that?" I asked in a small voice.

"Well, barely had he moved his things in before he started ordering me around. Do this. Do that."

I smiled. "And what did you say to that?"

"You know what I said, Sophie. I told him to put it in his pipe and smoke it. Just not in the house. No smoking in the house. And no bloody orders thrown at me either. Naturally I told him that I'd cook as I usually do and if he didn't like it, well... Edward had manure in the garden. He could eat that."

"Manure, you said? Very polite."

"Yes, well. I actually said shit."

I giggled. "Shit? You say that so perfectly, Pots. The beginning of a sonnet, really."

She cleared her throat. "I'm on my way to the kitchen to make tea. I assume, you see, that you're wanting something from me, Sophie. You always do. There is an annoying prodding in the back of my head that's saying 'Sophie wants something. She always does. She has the word _favour_ in her voice."

I could picture her traipsing down the hallway, her face fresh above the floral flannel nightgown she'd be tripping over. Her soft grey curls would be held secure, since she put them to bed beneath a net.

"Well?" she demanded. She was clanking around the kitchen running water into a teakettle and shouting overtop the noise. "Well?"

"Well..." I said, stalling.

"Spit it out."

Tread softly, Sophie. "Well, it seems the house exchange here has gone badly."

Silence.

"Yes, well. It appears that our house sitter in London is not exactly legal. He's conned me, actually."

There wasn't a breath.

"It isn't exactly his house, you see. He offered up somebody else's home in Toronto, I'm afraid. I'm afraid I didn't properly check it out."

Smack! Kilometres across the Atlantic I could feel the force of the blow. My arse stung. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"No. I've just walked to my desk in the kitchen to read the contract you've signed. I'll take it to your solicitor tomorrow but your squatter just may have rights, you see. He just may have rights to stay here for the entire month as you signed for."

"But he tricked me!"

"Shame on you. The law doesn't actually support fools."

The good old Potsy zing. "I'm in a bit of a pickle."

"Lovely. Lovely. Come home then and share your lovely historic home with Napoleon. You know, the Berkshire pig. George Orwell and all. It's what I call him behind his back."

"Are you frightened to be alone with him?"

"I said pig, not psychopath. He's not smart enough to be diabolical. Although he outsmarted you."

"Thanks. I needed that. And I don't want to come home just yet. I left there depressed and came on an adventure, as you well know. I'd like to finish off my month as I originally planned. But there's just one small catch."

"Yes. There always is. Dare I ask?"

"Yes, you dare." Heavy pause. "I've signed on here as cook. It's the only way they'd let me stay."

That did it. Her laughter likely caused a tidal wave. "You did what? You did what?"

The cat was eyeing me up like dinner now and growling.

"I'm cook here."

Suki shook her huge horrid head. 'Not going to happen,' she implied.

Potsy couldn't stop laughing. "Bully! Bloody bully for you! You can't even make tea."

"Can too."

"When?"

"When you went on holiday."

"When I go on holiday my replacement from the agency makes the tea. Good try, though. Any more sad attempts?"

Stalemate. "I guess my goose is cooked, then."

"That's hilarious, Sophie! Do you not see the irony? You can't even cook your own goose!"

Exactly what I needed. A comedian. "I need your help."

"And there would be something new in that?"

"Could you just email me some of your recipes, please? Not the complicated ones, naturally. Simple ones. Good basic food."

"I could. But as I recall, you never took Greek in school. And absolutely any recipe in my repertoire would be Greek to you."

"Ta. I really appreciate it."

"You'll owe me. Since I'll have to explain absolutely everything. Hmm... Let me see. Take a pot from the cupboard. Turn the tap on. Run the water into the pot. Take the potatoes from the pantry, then take them out of the bag. How many are you cooking for, Sophie?"

"Only two for now. The homeowner is away at present so there's just the two of us, Chauffeur and myself. Rocco dines out when Victoria is away."

"Well! Rocco! An Italian. I hope he's handsome."

"Very. And very gay. Homosexual, really. Not merrily skipping around as the word means to you. Oh, and there's a rather large cat sitting here on the kitchen island. Fierce, too. Her name is Suki and she's territorial. Any advice on that?"

"A cat, you say? In the kitchen? Cat hair! Get rid of her, Sophie."

Suki growled.

"It's not that simple. This is her domain. I'm the intruder, you see. And she doesn't like me one bit."

She thought about it. "Cat treats. Catnip. Arsenic."

"Thanks a lot. And thanks for the recipes, Pots."

Even as I said the words my heart sank. I was floundering, certainly, but not without resources. Before climbing into bed in my cozy quarters at the back of the house I sent out the Facebook alarm. 'Save poor Sophie who is buggered in the colonies and totally screwed'. As luck would have it, then, just before I was dozing off my iPhone rang.

"Sophie!" said a voice from the past. "It's Sarah. Sarah Richards. Surely you remember me?"

Surely I did. Sarah had been the biggest bully in boarding school and not exactly a beauty, as hedgehogs go. "Sarah," I said hesitantly. "I do remember you, yes."

"I understand through mutual friends that you're learning to cook. A little late, don't you think?"

Somewhere in the back of my head the _Cordon Bleu Culinary School_ and Sarah Richards clanged thunderously together. Might this be the woman to save me? If you believed in karma and debt repayment, yes, since she'd beaten me up at boarding school and tried to drown me in the showers. "I suppose it is a bit late. That is, if I actually wanted to learn cooking."

"And you don't?"

"It's a bit misleading, that. I was hoping more to learn how to fake cooking if there's a chance. I actually fancy the idea of becoming an imposter."

She laughed. "It's been done before. Although I have my own catering business in Toronto I still fake it from time to time. Especially the appetizers." She paused for a minute. "Remember when we were in school and I cheated on exams?"

I did. She was a wizard at it. "So?"

"Well, I'm still a bit of a cheater. I cater to huge parties but I don't always make the canapés. I just discard the evidential packaging and take all the credit. There's this lovely line of products called _President's Choice._ They make absolutely everything from start to finish. __ Fantastic desserts, really. You can read directions can't you, Sophie?"

Sophie could. Grateful Sophie could even send Chauffeur to _Loblaw's_ to shop for the necessary magic to save her arse.

Enter Victoria's portraits. They were everywhere, even in the loo. Victoria was a stunning beauty, a woman of long blond hair, deep blue eyes, and perfectly-whitened teeth. She wore red. Rocco said that while Victoria claimed to be pushing forty – she was actually dragging it -and the fact that she'd inherited this mansion from her Mafiosi dad didn't make it any less his. Rocco had been secretary to the Don and therefore came with the house as part of the deal. So what if old deceased Vinny's ghost still rattled through the hallways at night? He did so only to remind Victoria that she mustn't toss Rocco out with the bath water, or anything equally dastardly.

By mid-week Rocco and I were beginning to tolerate each other. Luckily, it was his custom to dine out when Victoria was abroad so my secret was safe for a while. But regarding Rocco, I had uncovered a secret and was not above blackmailing someone who wasn't above doing the exact same thing to me. Rocco was in love with Eric McCormack. He owned all eight seasons of _Will and Grace_ on DVD and spent the better part of each evening lounging in the library drooling.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked one evening after calling home, waking up Potsy, and listening to her complain.

"Yuk." It was a word Rocco abused as often as Victoria's booze. "Is Eric McCormack hot or what?"

I poured myself a gin on ice and plunked down in the opposite leather chair. "I'll fight you for him. I like Eric McCormack too."

"You'd lose."

"Only with the character. I'd win with the man."

"You bitch!"

"Correct. How about Jack? Do you like him too?"

"P l e a s e! There is only room for one queen bee."

With the first sip of Beefeater I found myself slipping into thoughts of the Nigerian and the lovely parties he'd be hosting at my house where grateful illegal immigrants would be guzzling my gin.

"This is torture for me, sunshine. And I don't know why I even watch him. Eric reminds me of Jason. The man who broke my heart."

I promptly straightened up. "Heart? What heart? Where?"

"You're not funny."

"Jason then, is it? Bleeding are we?"

Tears welled in his eyes. "Bleeding is a good way to put it. I'm almost dead."

"You probably wish you were."

He raised a groomed eyebrow at me. "How do you know so much?"

"I asked you first."

"Ok. What do you want to know?

"I want to know about Jason. They say it's therapeutic to talk. Whoever they are. Not that I believe them but we could always give it a go."

He poured himself a generous tumbler of Grey Goose, neat, and leaned back in his chair. "He's beautiful. Jay is beautiful. Both men and women say that about him. Victoria says that if Jay were straight she'd have him for herself. But he's not. And he was mine. All mine!" A tear trickled down his cheek and he wiped it with his bathrobe sleeve.

"So you owned him, then."

"I didn't say that, did I? Jeez! You asked me about him and I'm trying to tell you."

"I'm sorry. Proceed."

"I don't know that I want to now."

"I said sorry."

"You didn't say it nicely."

"All right, then. I'm absolutely, positively and dreadfully sorry. I was just trying to be funny."

"You failed."

"I accept defeat." I quaffed my gin like a thirsty pirate. This bloke was tough going.

"Well, Jay is a hero. He pulled two children from a burning building. He received some kind of award."

"Impressive. I'm starting to like him now."

"You would like him. He's very handsome."

"You already said that."

"Just so you know."

"I do."

"He's Asian. Did I tell you that?"

"No, you didn't. An Asian Eric McCormick. Scrummy. I'm starting to salivate."

"Don't waste your energy, hon. Jay is only interested in men."

"My loss. Tell me more."

"Well, he went to New Orleans and helped build houses. A lot of houses after Katrina. He was there for over a year."

"He sounds quite wonderful to me now. How old is this man?"

"Thirty-four. Six years younger than me."

"And is he independently wealthy, then? To be able to volunteer his time?"

"He has means. Older men. He's never really worked. And I know what you're going to say. Yes, there were other men when he was with me. His benefactors. It was an understanding we had. They came and went so it's not like he had the same one all along. I never felt threatened by his being in love with anyone else."

"Until?"

He sighed. "Until he decided to go on that same-sex cruise. Five of them altogether."

"And you didn't want to go?"

"Oh. I wanted to go, alright. It's just that he said I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Well, the other guys were in their twenties. Jay said I was too old."

Sometime around one o'clock in the morning I awoke to the annoying prodding of a finger. "Sunshine. You shouldn't drink. You passed out in your chair. And hon, to be honest? You snore like Rip Van Wrinkle. You ruined my show."

The following morning Rocco came rushing into the kitchen in a tizzy. "She's coming! She'll be here in two days. We have to tidy up!"

I cocked a crooked eyebrow. "You mean we have to get rid of the cat?"

He hurried to the island to pet his hissing pussy. "Don't listen to her, Suki! She's a jealous bitch." And then to me, "The cleaning people are coming tomorrow. They'll be here all day so you need to find something to do. Shop. Go to a movie. Hide in your room."

Hum... the prospect of hiding in my room seemed most appealing to me. It had become a haven of sorts, a covert operation room that allowed secret smoking. Yes, I'd finally sunk to the bottom of the larder and had become a closet smoker. Literally. How convenient is a walk-in closet with a window that opens wide above a comfortable chair where a person might sit and blow smoke rings from a gorgeous Silk Cut slim? Absolutely guilt free.

Back in the kitchen Rocco opened a blue Tiffany box. "Sorry, Suki. You have to wear this now. Victoria will throw a shit-fit if it isn't on your lovely neck." He extracted a wide diamond collar with a dangling ruby heart and fastened it below her head. She howled with displeasure. "Get used to it princess. She never stays for long." He turned back to me. "Victoria is into geographical cures. She bores easily and travels almost non-stop. But just so you know she's self-obsessed. She'll hardly notice you but if she does she can be nasty. Just so you know."

"Ta. I'll keep that in mind."

"What's that in your hand, Sophie?"

Oh, oh. I was busted. "A mirror."

"What? A hand mirror in the kitchen? There's a full-length mirror in the pantry, you ninny."

"Yes there is. I'd forgotten."

"You're up to something, sunshine. I can tell."

"You're thinking too hard. It's just a mirror."

"Well put it away. You could scare Suki."

After Rocco sped away I again held the mirror to Suki's hissing face. "See?" I said. "You are a cat. A c-a-t. Cat."

Log Book, December 3

Confronted two hundred-year old Wookie named Madclaw with mirror. Madclaw, who had woken up on wrong side of starship, was not amused. Hissed, growled, barked and spat. Hard merchandise, she is. Alien Rocco excited about arrival of princess. Can't wait for landing bay doors to open. Hope it's not Darth. 

# Chapter Three

Enter vivacious Victoria, her entourage, and a great heap of Gucci luggage. She swished through the doorway like a fresh Gulf breeze, Rocco in tow. Arms locked they headed off to the library for a _tête-à-tête_ and a cocktail while her 'people' jumped right to the chore of dispersing her baggage by lugging it up the stairs. Soon gales of laughter spilled from the library and echoed through the welcoming halls. Their girl was home.

As for Victoria, well... Victoria was an original, a walking Rembrandt absolutely terrifying in person. The woman defined outrageous, with her long blond hair swooshing down her back to her butt and her tight-fitting red two-piece accenting her voluptuous curves. She was scary, all right, a woman capable of levitating through any room smiting men dead in their socks. A person of great presence, Victoria was fully aware of the powers bestowed her and modesty was a word I presumed she reserved for the meek. The woman was a tiger.

As for Sophie, well, Sophia-the-fake-cook headed for the pantry cooler to rescue two racks of New Zealand lamb, fully oven ready. (Not Potsy's leg of lamb with the Greek instructions.) Jarred mint jelly was to accompany the lamb racks as well as greens from a bag. Done. Scrumptious! How could Sophie possibly fail? Well... She could. If Sophie knew one thing with authority it was how to miserably fail. While she could fake an orgasm on a dime, cooking had yet to be conquered.

The problem, it seemed, was that I didn't identify with ovens, nor did ovens identify with me, particularly Canadian made. It was part of some anti-monarchy movement, I suspected, due to the biography on Prince Charles showing his disdain for absolutely everyone including Canadian taxpayers, who apparently weren't coughing up their share; not doling out enough to keep the old prince in palace Beefeaters. Therefore, my lamb decided to turn out medium raw. Luckily, a second oven managed to cook the frozen canapés to a crisp golden brown, allowing me to begin the evening exuding British pride.

"Canapés!" I announced in the library while presenting with flourish my finest fake creations on an heirloom silver tray. I was a flipping genius.

Victoria turned up her nose. "In pastry? God! Who eats pastry? Fat people?"

Not a genius, then. More like moron.

"I'll have a few," said Rocco-to-the-rescue. "Just put them here, hon." He pointed to the ebony table beside him where I gratefully laid down the tray. I wanted to kiss his arse.

"I'll have some raw veggie sticks," said Victoria, seemingly bored. "And perhaps some melon slices."

Eek! I wondered how fast Chauffeur could screech to the store. "I'll do my absolute best."

But before I could make my humble escape Victoria muttered behind my back, "Rocco! She's so _dowdy_! What have you got against glamorous girls? Are you afraid you might cross over?"

"Like that's ever going to happen!"

They both howled.

I felt like Agnes Gooch. It was all Rocco's fault for insisting that I wear a grey uniform when Victoria was in the house. As well, I was to tie my hair back, apply no make-up at all, and to keep my big fat mouth shut – no talking back. Very well, then. Done. After the bloody raw lamb scared the squeamish diners away from the table I headed for my closet to chain-smoke a pack of cigs, plus a joint bestowed by Chauffeur who offered to supply me for sex. Hard to resist that. Hard to resist bonking a bloke who moonlighted as Santa Claus for the Salvation Army downtown. The best I could do was to pray for early dementia to strike me. Or him. Either way I won.

I have a strong aversion to morning people so when Rocco pranced into the kitchen the following day whistling a happy tune I imagined a gun in my hand and blasting off a face.

"What you up to, sunshine?" he trilled as if he cared.

"About 6.43 metres," I said crankily. "Or 1.63 metres to those who actually understand the metric system."

"Coffee on?"

"Not really. I was too busy shagging Chauffeur. He's supplying me with weed."

He waved his loose left wrist at me. "Right. Like you do weed, you little prude."

"Do you want eggs?"

"Yes. And I'll cook them myself, thank you. That lamb last night was scary."

"She doesn't like me," I blurted out.

"Who? Victoria? Don't take it personally, hon. Victoria doesn't like anybody."

"She likes you."

"No. Victoria _adores_ me. There's a big difference."

"You adore her too. You have a mutual admiration society. Just the two of you."

Suki raised up her horrid head and barked, causing Rocco to rush to her side. "That's ok, Suki," he said in a baby voice. "We love you too. You're part of our society. It's just Sophie that isn't."

"Ta, Rocco. Whatever would I do without your incessant flattery? Without your vile mean spirit?"

"I was just kidding! Take a pill, will you? Lighten up. I mean, you're screwing the chauffeur. How much fun is that?"

I smiled. "It's wanton."

"I'll bet it is." He proceeded to crack four eggs with only a few shells into a large blue bowl. "Calcium. Shells are good for you. My mother always put them in my eggs."

I finally laughed.

"That's better. I'll crack one more and we'll have breakfast together." He turned to Suki. "And you make the toast girl because Sophie here will burn it black.

Log Book, December 5, Noon

Big Green Fish! Great kafuffle. Expected Princess Leia but instead got Queen Latifah with attitude. A bit of a Bishwag. Has formed alliance with Bughugger Alien Rocco, Spacegay, for terrorist attack on Black Nerf/Sophie. Madclaw has joined the cause and may well lead the charge. Sophie's chances of surviving at colony barely hovering above zero percent. Drok it! 

# Chapter Four

Still in a brood over the lamb gone south/terribly wrong I was further accosted by Cat moving circuitously and anti-clockwise on the countertop mid-afternoon, bullying me. "Sophie is a disaster in the kitchen," she hissed. "A complete disgrace!" To compound matters, Victoria staggered in late out of bed and all askew to passively aggressively complain.

"Got any more of that lamb left, Sophie?" she chirped. "It was awesome last night. Like a transfusion. You've saved me my annual check-up now as my hemoglobin will be sky high."

I bit my tongue. "Lamb jokes are my favorite."

At the island stroking a purring cat, Victoria cocked her straggly hair. "Cooks are to be seen and not heard. Didn't they tell you that at the agency?"

"As a matter of fact, they didn't." I looked her dead straight in the eye. "And I can't imagine why."

She ordered up a carafe of black coffee and one piece of dry wheat toast to be delivered to her suite by her maid before swinging her Rapunzel locks away. Her round hind cheeks bounced along behind her. "And I'll also have that plate of melon you couldn't produce last night."

I was thinking a lot about crime, actually. Crime A. Home. Home to the house-sitter, Napoleon, with his unregistered gun. Bang! Sophie dead. Crime B. Stay. Stay until the RCMP rounded me up in their good suits, the red ones, performing their musical ride. Apparently, fraudulent cooks in Canada got strung up in the public square for stoning. But what were boarding school enemies for, if you couldn't call upon one for a favor straightaway? Done. I was still patting myself on the arse when Victoria came sweeping down the stairs in a cloud of red organza, a train the length of a football field trailing behind. "Rhett!" I imagined her saying. "I deplore it every time you say, 'Quite frankly, my dear. I don't give a damn.' Because you know you do."

Rocco leapt from the library to usher Victoria into his lair. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! These hollow halls have been missing your presence, princess."

Very well, Rocco. What they were really missing was a good scrubbing with Pine Sol after a cobweb sweep.

I didn't hurry in with the puff pastry canapés. Instead I munched a few in the kitchen to see if they might be poison. Hmm... I munched a few more just to make sure. Yum... Fat people. Gorgeous. It was only after stern self-talk that I managed to save a few bits for Rocco and waddle my way to the library, just as Victoria was saying,

"I'm trying this gown out on you tonight. It's the one I'll be wearing for the launch."

Rocco perked up his Doberman ears. "Launch? What launch, princess?"

" _My Ten Men_. I haven't told you about it yet because I've tried to cancel. It's just that there is this contract.... binding and all. TV rights. I hate the idea but I'm stuck. They're going to film the full twelve episodes right here. In this house. Over twelve days to be aired over twelve-weeks. During the first episode the field will narrow to two, following which the two finalists will move into the house to compete for my affection. You'll be here for support, of course, Rocco. You and the new cook who will be replacing Sophie." She shot me a triumphant glare.

Thanks a lot. Who else will shag your fat chauffeur for weed? Kidding.

Rocco leapt to his feet and started to bounce around. " _My Ten Men_! Reality show? I can't believe you, princess!"

"Believe me," she said flatly. "They approached me. I didn't approach them. They talked me into it in a weak moment. After I drank a lot of champagne on somebody's yacht. Whose I can't exactly remember."

"What's the premise?"

I only pretended to leave the room. Instead, I lurked behind the fat white pillar to wait with some anxiety. I was about to be sacked. Made redundant. Punted from my very first real job.

"It's a dating show of mutual money," Victoria explained. "There are ten men and only one woman. Me. All the men have been screened and are some of the wealthiest hunks in the world."

"It's perfect for you!" Rocco said excitedly. "You could find your mate. Finally, after all the ugly toads you've kissed you could find your prince."

"Thanks, Rocco. I already found my prince, as you well know."

"And he dumped you."

"Thanks again. What about Jason?"

"Jason dumped me too. But he's not an ugly toad."

"You're absolutely right. Jason is a beautiful whore."

"Victoria!"

"Rocco!"

They fell into a mutual ball of conniptions.

I could hear her munching on a carrot stick. "Don't be too sure about my finding a husband, Rocco. From my own experience I can tell you that most wealthy men are total asses. Firstly, there are those who inherited their money. They're self-indulgent and lazy, especially in bed."

He laughed.

"Extremely lazy in bed. Then there are the ones that got rich by backstabbing their way to the top. They're brutal creatures. No, Rocco. Unless there's a diamond in the ruff I sincerely doubt I'll find another prince."

"When will the filming begin?"

"Tuesday. The crew will arrive tomorrow to start setting things up. Are you in?"

"Yes. Of course!"

"We'll keep the chauffeur who might prove interesting. He's a larger than life character and could add to the show. But Sophie has got to go. Not only is she an awful cook she's mouthy and disrespectful. We don't need that."

"She doesn't mean to be, princess. She's British you know. They have no manners."

I choked back the giggles.

"But if you insist I'll let her go in the morning."

"I insist."

So... Imagine the degree of confusion after Sarah's beef bourguignon landed spectacularly on the table to an ecstatic reception. Was mouthy, disrespectful Sophie worth another go? Dead easy, I have to say.

Log Book, December 8, Midnight

Am not exactly burning sky at colony. What the Brix am I doing here anyway? I am considered backrocket and quaint with a mouth the size of Jaba the Hun. No better than a Borg licker. Even Madclaw has turned against me. More so, that is. Am seriously considering zarking garage-pilot for kudos. Am farkled. 

# Chapter Five

The idea to hide in the kitchen and torment the cat while the camera crew went bushing about came somewhere out of purgatory, I now think. Only the red guy with a pitchfork and horns could cause a woman to stoop to such behavior. Or, had it been amnesia then that had me standing at the kitchen island with a copy of _Cat Fancy_ and shoving pages against the howling face of a feline? "See, Suki? These are your relatives. Your cousins. They are called cats. C- A- T- S."

"Sophie!" Rocco screamed at my back. "How could you do that to her! How could you insult her like that! Look how hurt she is." He sped to the cat's home on the counter and swooped her into his arms. Suki gave a loud offended growl before leaping from Rocco's grasp to the floor.

"See? You've ruined her now! She doesn't want a thing to do with anyone."

All right, then. "I hate to tell you this Rocco but Suki has never wanted a thing to do with anyone. She's much too busy disproving the 'no man is an island' theory. She actually is an island. In the middle of the kitchen. And if she gets any fatter we'll have to call that American show – you know, _The Biggest Loser_ , for rehabilitation."

"Victoria is right!" Rocco spat. "You are mouthy and disrespectful. And if you couldn't cook like an angel you'd be out of here today." He shook his indignant bootie all the way out of the room.

Suki, on the other hand, immediately returned to the kitchen where she shot her fat body through the air like a missile and continued on being an island just as she pleased.

"I'm reading about your relatives." I flipped through the pages. "Some of them actually get up and walk around even when they aren't on their way to the litter. Do you know that, Cat?"

She closed her eyes and began to rudely snore.

Enter Tuesday with Victoria in a tizzy of earthquake proportion. She was in a mad panic regarding her debut on global television and the horrible prospect of failure, a frightfully new and daunting word to her. Failure. Eek!

"Why did this have to happen to me?" she whined at the kitchen island where I'd suddenly assumed the imposed role of listener. "I'm a good person, Sophie. You think that, don't you?"

Long pause/trick question. I was dead either way. "Yes," I said just before biting down on my tongue like a bull shark and drawing blood.

She looked at me thoughtfully. "I'm very nervous. I know I should eat but I can't. I couldn't sleep either. I'm a mess."

A complete understatement. Mess was a huge compliment to a woman with her hair blown down a dusty road like tumbleweed and fixed into a great wiry ball. I remembered three things from the American westerns I'd been forced to watch with my dad: John Wayne, tumbleweed, and sarsaparilla, and Victoria, at her shakiest, looked sadly like all three.

"Do you think you could make me a Bloody Caesar, Sophie?"

I checked the digital clock on the cooker. 8:12 a.m. "Why not? It must be nine a.m. somewhere."

She laughed. "You're funny, Sophie. Make it strong, please. I've got a long day ahead. And my people upstairs are completely incompetent."

A Bloody Caesar? Rocco, bless his fickle heart, had given me lessons and had taped the recipe to a pantry cupboard door, calling it Victoria's 'breakfast' and not to get it wrong. I therefore proudly returned from the pantry with a cocktail on a silver tray. "Sip it slowly. It's loaded."

Victoria perked up. "I asked Rocco but he refused. He said no booze until after the show tonight. You're a lot more fun." She cocked her head at me. "But I don't drink alone so you'll have to join me. Go on. Make yourself a big one. It's going to be a long dreadful day."

Drinking on the job? Brilliant! I sped to the pantry to concoct a drink of equal proportion and joined Victoria at the island, where she 'd guzzled her booze like a thirsty pirate and promptly ordered another.

"And don't be so stingy with the vodka. I'm blasting my sinus cavities."

When I returned with the second drink Victoria was in better spirits. "So, Sophie. How are you enjoying it back there bordering the ravine?"

"Good. No complaints."

"That's the original part of the house, you realize. Your suite and Vinny's study are the only areas left. I renovated after Vinny died but I didn't have the heart to tear down the study. Too much history there. Family portraits. Heirlooms. Ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

She nodded. "Ghosts. Tell me, Sophie; are you able to sleep at night? No weird noises or anything? Voices?" A strange smile crept across her face.

"Honestly? Sometimes there are voices. In the garden. I naturally assumed it was your people checking the property out."

"I don't have people checking the property out. I'm hardly ever here. Rocco arranges the property maintenance but I doubt anyone works in the dark. It's well protected back there, though. You can only access the gardens and pool from the house or garage. There's a back gate that leads to the ravine but it's unlikely someone would enter the property from there. There's only a short, wooded area before the ravine drops sharply away."

Comforting. Only the big black, steep ravine and me. And voices. "Whose voices are they then?"

"I already told you. They're ghosts. Anyone popping popcorn in your galley kitchen, Sophie? Or turning lights off and on? Does your TV come back on after you've turned it off at night?"

I nodded. "I assumed it was an electrical problem. The telly, that is. But no popcorn as yet."

"There will be." She attacked her drink like a little pig. "One of Vinny's thugs has a penchant for it. You'll hear it popping but you won't see anything because no one is there. Oh, and your cell will ring and the call display will show your own number. They'll throw pillows from chairs while you're sleeping and sometimes you'll feel someone crawling into bed with you."

"Well, as long as he's a scrumptious beast. And virile."

She narrowed her eyes. "I can see that you don't believe me but just know this. You've already broken the record for the number of days any cook has stayed in that room. Some of them have even left here screaming and didn't even bother to return for their things. That's why Suki never makes up with the new cook. It's not worth her time and effort because they don't stick around."

Suki lifted her enormous head and howled like a banshee.

"See?" said Victoria. "She has feelings. She's just afraid to show them."

My turn to laugh. "She's quite the girl. I'm actually learning from her. I'm toughening up."

Victoria sputtered. "From where I stand you're plenty tough. You have no trouble speaking your mind. You're a servant, basically, and yet you speak like you own this place. I've yet to decide whether I really like you or want you out of my face."

I recognized a quick dead end. "About the ghosts. Have they ever harmed anybody do you happen to know?"

"No. They're not bad ghosts. They only want attention. They're lonely. According to The Long Island Medium they simply haven't crossed over. And why would they when they're having so much fun here?" She squinted at me. "You're actually quite pretty, Sophie. But you need to wear make-up and stop wearing grey. Grey is the color of death, for gods sake. It's the color of prisoners and old people. You're much too young to be so old."

I studied my grey uniform with the frilly white apron. "Rocco said I should wear this when you were here. I usually don't."

She snickered. "What does Rocco know? He's not a woman. Well, not completely. If he was one though he wouldn't be caught dead in something like that. Wear your own clothes, Sophie. And if you have something pretty in your wardrobe wear it today. If Rocco so much as opens his mouth I'll be ordering uniforms for him. He pretty much marches to my drum." With that she ordered coffee for room service and headed for the stairs. "I'm feeling much better," she called over her shoulder. "And I'm going to have fun today."

Log Book, December 12, Noon

In an odd way I've punched up a jump. While I've alienated Bughugger, due to Madclaw being a knob/koochoo in the Galactic Centre, I'm actually making inroads with Her Imperial Travesty. Storm troopers are everywhere. Silly Plastic boys. May keep one for myself. Peachy.

# Chapter Six

As a child I wanted desperately to be poor. I longed to be poor, even dreamed of being poor, and of landing the part of Eliza Doolittle in _Pygmalion_. To me, poor people were happy when warming their hands over an outdoor fire and enjoying the occasional chocolate. So, imagine my delight in finally realizing my dream. Although according to the BSE I wasn't technically poor, I was situation-poor, and thrived, even reveled, in my sudden social descent. Here I was anonymous. Here people hadn't watched me run down my husband in our driveway, nor did they care about the dints in my Bentley. No, in dignified Forest Hill I was simply odd little Sophie, the fraudulent cook. Tick tock. Tick tock. My great luck was about to run out.

Be careful what you wish for, they warn. Shortly after Victoria vacated my mobile rang with not such good news, actually. It was David-the-defector, former cheating husband.

"Sophie, darling."

"Yes, well."

"However are you?"

"Ever fine. As always. What is it that you want?"

"Still the cold one, are you?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"No pleasantries, then?"

Silence. David didn't call out of the blue. I wasn't that important to him anymore.

"We're not happy with the settlement, Kasha and I. I'm afraid we need to renegotiate, luv."

Had anybody got an axe? "I see. But you've signed off, David. The divorce is final. There is no more."

"That's where you're wrong, Soph. My solicitor says otherwise. I apparently signed under duress so have the right to renegotiate."

"Did I hold a knife to your throat, then?"

"It's immaterial, Soph. The courts agree with me. As of ten o'clock this morning your assets are frozen. All of them, I'm afraid. Credit cards, investments, bank accounts, lines of credit etc. Everything."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're broke, darling. Well, we both are, essentially. Until such time as you make me a satisfactory offer. I signed off without considering the great fortune left to you by your dad, to which I'm also entitled. I'm entitled to half of Henry's estate as well."

"But you're not!"

"The courts say otherwise. They've frozen your finances. It's done. My advice to you is to contact your solicitor and begin the process. I've foolishly settled for far too little."

"You can't even spend what you have, David. Not in your lifetime. Why do you want more?"

"It's for the baby. Kasha is pregnant."

A gasp escaped from someone, possibly me. Kasha? I could see her great bloody greed all over this now and her greedy little baby was about to come after my inheritance too. "So, Kasha's back from Africa then?"

"Yes, well. She was pregnant when she left me. With my baby. We didn't know it at the time but naturally we reconciled as soon as we knew. Sorry that you're broke, luv. You left me no choice."

"Broke, you say? Broke in Canada. That's terrific, David." Oops.

"Canada? You say Canada, Soph?"

I shut off my phone before I could further injure myself.

I chose a smashing black frock for the gala event, expecting to be stuck in the kitchen with Cat hissing her horrid head off. The dress had long slender sleeves, a neckline plunging to the waist, and a little flared, flirty skirt ending mid-thigh. With Jimmy Choo pumps and diamond waterfall earrings completing the look I nodded to myself in the full-length mirror. "Sophie, you minx. You've possibly done it again."

The suitors began to arrive in limos on schedule, one at a time, beginning at two p.m. In the foyer they were greeted by Peter Fansbridge, who gave a dead boring introduction, such as where they hid their offshore money (Switzerland, Monaco, The Caymans...) and why they wanted to win over Victoria, an international prize. They were then shuffled off to the library to mingle and await an individual meeting with the prize, who'd been guzzling Dom Perignon like Jack Sparrow in the sitting room. At a quarter past two Rocco came storming into the kitchen, panic flashing like neon signs in his eyes.

"She's been into the booze! She's plastered. Some idiot made the mistake of opening all the champagne in advance. And you know Victoria. She's nervous so she gulped it down like water. Make some strong coffee, sunshine, and bring it in, please. We've got to sober her up."

Too little, too late. Even coffee couldn't save a woman sloshed to the gills, head bobbing. And while I stood there looking very important clutching a silver tray, Scarlett O'Hara sat slumped on a Chippendale sofa interrogating her first guest.

"Why are you here?" She waved her empty champagne flute in the air like a lasso. "But does it really matter? My guess is that you wanted to be on TV. They rejected you for _The Bachelor_ because you're not that good looking." She hiccupped. "You have nice eyes but your nose is too big. For your small face, that is. The solution, as I see it, is that you need either a bigger face or a smaller nose." She laughed hysterically. "But I get it. Money will buy your way into _Forbes_. But money cannot buy Chris Harrison. Chris Harrison has eyes."

"Cut."

Victoria rambled on. "I know Chris. I met him on somebody's yacht." She cocked her head sideways. "My god! Was that who signed me up for this stupidity? I'm going to kill him!"

Packed into the room like sausages, film people started to scurry about. Boy! Something had gone horribly wrong. So much for dating games, dating shows, and dating in general. Dating was in the loo. Slowly the room cleared, all but for a nervous little be-speckled director pacing the floor. Rocco and I hurried to Victoria's side.

"Coffee, princess!" he announced.

"Right," she slurred. "Like I'm gonna drink that shit. Champagne!" She twirled her glass in the air. "Rarely do I get to drink champagne that someone else is paying for. At least not in this house." She hiccupped. "Sophie!" she screeched. "You look beautiful! Like Cinderella. From rags to riches. Going to the ball." Her head bobbed.

Rocco opened a bottle of water. "If you won't drink coffee at least drink some water. You have to straighten up, princess. You have the whole night ahead of you!"

She couldn't manage it. "Eureka! Got an idea. More champagne, Rocco."

"No. You'll have water."

I doubt you'd be surprised to learn that Victoria doesn't do anything Victoria doesn't want to do. With her head bobbing like a plush dog in the rear window of a Studebaker she said, "Why don't two of you interview men? And decide. Narrow to a few. I'll sleep couple hours and choose."

The anxious director, who was busy burning tracks in the Persian rug, suddenly screeched to a stop. "It's our only chance! And not a bad alternative. Given her condition."

"Gorgeous," Victoria mumbled. "But I'll need help getting up." With that she passed out cold.

Log Book, December 8, Five p.m.

Taking break from lunacy for cig. Orbital Space Colony gone mad. Her Imperial Travesty dead as Honoghr. (Who is he anyway?) Giant furball, Madclaw, has left Galactic Centre to hide in litter. Anomaly. Bughugger/Rocco and Black Nerf/Sophie now to be flyboys. Into the Nexu's den?

# Chapter Seven

So much for anonymity. The TV program was scheduled to globally air in February and, with any luck at all, by that time I'd be dead. In the meantime I felt privileged to sit dangerously close to ten of the biggest bank accounts ever. Or, should I say nine? Victoria's first victim had left screaming obscenities and threatening to sue the show. In the end it came down to three candidates: Franco-Arabic Michel, the classy Omar Sharif type; Antonio, a dazzling Brazilian, the Zorro of his time; and finally Kip, the hilarious kid, who had age and audacity in his favor. All three were fine specimens and all three had Rocco salivating.

"I can't believe we get to interview them twice!" He tossed off his jacket, loosened his tie, and was madly shaking his shirt. "It's hot in here."

I smiled. "Very hot. Muggy even. It's the camera lights."

"Right."

"Michel is coming in now," the nervous director, Roman, announced. "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" Rocco squeaked. "Of course, we're ready! Why have you kept us waiting so long?" He winked at me.

Michel moved into the room like a comfortable shoe, easily and with the confidence of a man adored by Venus, his mum. He slipped into the opposing chair and smiled. "What have the two of you been up to in my absence? No good?"

To be truthful, I'd been up to quite a lot as Dr. Zhivago knew. Earlier in the evening he'd caught me on my hands and knees on the kitchen floor looking for Cat who was in hiding from the strangers milling about.

"How's the weather down there?" he drawled.

"You're funny," I managed to rise above my five inch heals without toppling over. "Are you lost?"

He shook his splendid dark head. I mean, has anybody seen _Lawrence of Arabia?_ "I was told I might find you here. I was told this is your domain."

"Not really. It actually belongs to the cat."

His glossy black eyes glistened. "Lucky cat if it gets to share it with you. I understand you're the cook."

"I am indeed." I could feel my face turning read. "And I'm not a very good liar, actually."

He was standing only inches from me now, close enough to dispatch his extravagant cologne. Eek! "Tell me more. I want to know all about you, lovely Sophie."

All right, then. He was a player. The transparent wanker of a man wanted to be narrowed to the final three. "I'm a bit of a fraud, you see. I'm a total fraud, actually. I can't even cook. I pay a caterer to prepare the meals and Chauffeur picks them up."

"Ah ha! I knew it. I knew you weren't a cook. Your beautiful hands give you away. The manicure."

Oh, please. "You'd better not say that too loudly or the cook's union will run you out of town. In my opinion, cooks have some of the loveliest hands."

He shot me a mocking grin. "In your opinion? Tell me more about your opinion, Sophie dear."

He was pushing it. Sophie dear's temper was about to explode. "Please don't call me Sophie dear. It's condescending."

He grinned. "I stand corrected. And I promise not to call you Sophie dear again, Sophie dear."

Arse. "I'll thank you to leave my kitchen."

"Your kitchen? I thought you said it belonged to the cat. But I'd still like to hear your opinion."

I was making a fist. "My opinion? My cynical opinion?"

"I'd be surprised by anything else."

"Why? Because I'm a cynic?"

He nodded. "I believe you are, yes. Let me have it then."

I cleared my throat. "Alright, then. The world is a dismal, frightfully unhappy place, I'm afraid. Children, who have not had a chance at life, die. Old people, who are eager to die, cannot. And those of us stuck in between are wretched because we've miserably failed at life. We're not crusaders, merely stagnant. We're not brilliant, simply mediocre. And we're an unhappy pathetic lot because we, sir, are the living dead."

He couldn't stop smiling at me. "My dear little mediocre Sophie! You're very funny. You know that, don't you?"

"You think that's funny? You have a very warped sense of humor, sir."

But back in the living room Rocco and I were exchanging glances. Did Dr. Zhivago know that we'd been fighting over his continuing on and that Rocco had won out in the end? Of course, he did. I said coldly, "As you well know we've been up to good things because you're back. We've narrowed the playing field to three."

"How reassuring. I've actually never been third place. Not even second. Surely you can appreciate that."

We could. Even the man's hair was gorgeous and if his face had been nothing more than a blank canvass I could have fallen in love with his hair – his thick black, lustrous hair that literally screamed for a plowing through by a woman's lustful hand. Not to forget the coal black eyes mocking my every move.

Rocco was madly checking off his list. "We only have one more question. Why do you want to be with the beautiful Victoria? What is it that you find so irresistible?"

Michel shrugged. "Quite frankly, I can't answer that question. I can't answer it because I've never met her. I've never talked to her or held her in my arms. That's why I came here today. To do both." He shrugged his Versace shoulders. "I know it's not the answer you're looking for but it's the best I can do."

"It's honest," I snapped. "But there's still one more step in the process. Victoria is going to meet the final two. Would you like to be included?"

He shook his head. "Not really. You see, I came here today with the idea that I would win the heart of a beautiful woman. That she would naturally choose me because I couldn't lose. Now you're telling me that I can and I'm afraid that's not an option. I'm sorry but it's just not in the cards." With that he rose to his lovely loafers and sauntered away.

"Ouch!" Rocco screwed up his face. "He's bitchy."

I sat there with my mouth agape. The most gorgeous man on the planet had approached me with evil intentions and I'd spurned his advances. "She would have liked him, Rocco."

He nodded his head off. "He's a beauty, all right." He sprawled back on the tall stiff sofa. "So, how do we tell Victoria that we let the best one get away? Hmm... No, I take that back. You're the new one so we'll just blame it on you. She doesn't like you anyway so you're the logical choice. You won't be around much longer so we'll just blame you."

"Thanks awfully."

His eyes twinkled. "I can't risk the blame. I have to live with her. You, on the other hand, can find a cooking job anywhere. Back in jolly old England if need be. Your accent would fit right in."

"Not funny. This job is important to me."

Just then Michel sauntered back into the room. "I've changed my mind." He nodded his magnificent head. "I came here to win the heart of a beautiful woman. And there is a small voice urging me to stay and fight. Odds are in my favour, I have to say." He was ogling me. "Yes, I've decided. I will fight for the woman Victoria. I accept your challenge."

With that he sauntered from the room.

"Cut!" Roman ushered the film crew away.

Rocco made a face. "I don't think it's Victoria he wants. I think Michel wants you."

"He's old enough to be my dad."

"He's forty-four. You're thirty. I can't see the obstacle in that. He's handsome, well-educated and filthy rich. I'd say he's almost perfect for you."

"I'm a woman scorned. Bitter. No one is perfect for me now. So, don't tell me to bite the wax tadpole. And don't forget Victoria. This is her show, remember."

"Right. Victoria. The princess. How could I possibly forget?"

"I guess you'll have to go and wake the sleeping giant, then."

"Wrong, sunshine. _We'll_ go. I'm not taking that one on alone."

Back in the living room, and propped like a rag doll on the sofa, Victoria was in a brood. "I needed more sleep," she growled. "You should have asked more questions. Kept them longer."

"Not more sleep," quipped Rocco. "Less booze. You drank the fountain dry, princess."

"Hardly."

"Assuredly."

She yawned. "Let's get this over with so I can go back to bed."

"We've already chosen one of the finalists. And, trust me, you won't be disappointed. That odd little director over there wants you to interview the final two and eliminate one of them.

"Very well, then. But make it snappy. I'm tired." She yawned, loudly and rudely.

Enter the kid who'd wrangled his way through to the final cut with his keen sense of humor and gung-ho, sporting good looks. The fact that he'd also cornered me in the kitchen earlier to make a spectacularly unsuccessful lunge at my body didn't hurt him either. After extricating myself from his baby grip I'd asked,

"You don't happen to be hiding a father anywhere, do you? Someone more my age?"

Baby Kip was a mere twenty-two. The show's producers were anxious to play up the May/December angle, if only for shock value. "Yes. I have a dad. He's older."

"Yes. I should think so."

"He's in his forties."

"Is he single?"

"He is, as a matter of fact. He's just discarded his fourth wife."

"Discarded? That's a bit cruel don't you think?"

"I suppose. But she died and he had to do something with her."

Back to livid Victoria in the living room. "I don't plan on changing diapers, you idiots! What do you think you're doing?"

Rocco laughed. "He'll grow on you,"

"I've been known to grow on women," said Kip with an evil grin.

Victoria was not amused. "I'll bet you have. And when you grow into long pants give me a call."

Kip liked that. "Long pants are my specialty. I've already mastered the art of long pants and moaning. I think you'd be impressed."

Victoria shook her head. "Next!" she waved with authority and under her breath hissed, "You two idiots! How could you do this to me!"

Rocco was cracking up. "Easier than you think. We screwed you royally. That's what you get for being a drunk. Wait 'til you see the next guy."

"I'll get you for this," she spat. "If it takes the rest of my life."

Enter the dazzling Brazilian, all teeth. I mean, Rodrigo Santoro eat your pecks out. Hair black as coal framed an intelligent face and intense brown eyes stared you back. Sexy. Sexy. Sexy. He wasted no time in strolling to Victoria, taking her hand in his own, and kissing it. "It is such an honor," he said in a heavy accent. "An honor and a privilege. I have admired you from afar, darling Victoria."

Victoria widened her deep blue eyes. "I'm flattered. Certainly flattered. And you would be?"

"Antonio. Your future husband." He eased into the guest chair and casually crossed his legs. "Dear sweet Victoria. What exactly is it that you would like to know?"

After Antonio had gone Victoria heaved a sigh. "You people really scared me! I was imagining the last guy to be a werewolf. But he's fabulous. He's perfect for me! He has to be the best of the bunch."

Rocco shrugged. "Maybe. Except for Michel. He might be the best. They both move into the house for eleven days, after which time you get to choose. And I get the leftover."

"Don't be so sure," I said, standing up. "It's been a long day. I'm off to bed." A bit of a fib, that. I was actually off to smoke wacky backy with Chauffeur but who was telling? Not me. Why would I squeal on myself for endless wild partying with the entire film crew from New York? Chauffeur and I were showing those damn Yankees what Toronto was all about.

Log Book, December 9, somewhere between midnight and five a.m. Not Sure.

_Not sure but think beast-boy approached Black Nerf with stonking huge stiffie. Was delighted to wake up on workbench in garage to see only R2D2 practicing his drill. Doesn't need me for sex as he can reproduce on his own. Not so for C3PO who can get quite cranky when horny. Must get him a Droid. Am becoming a tarhead._ _Buggered last chance to leave colony without curse of Haja today. Might have formed alliance with Lando Calrissian/Michel but missed the starship entirely. Left behind. Alone again. Naturally._

# Chapter Eight

Back at the mausoleum next day, Victoria was nursing a hangover and bragging. The man of her dreams had apparently arrived in a stretch limo, red roses in hand. An-toenails – so christened by Rocco due to his perfectly pedicured feet – had also done his homework. Bushels of burgundy roses began to arrive in succession, cluttering the house and causing the cat to sneeze.

"Don't bring them in here!" I growled at Rocco, who was pirouetting into the kitchen like an aging ballerina, basket in hand.

"I know. You're allergic. Every time you eat one you get sick, you British whore."

"That's cheeky! Why would you say that?"

"Because I can," he trilled. He proceeded to plunk the flowers under Suki's sneezing nose. "You girls are not exempt. If I have to suffer you do too. So suck it up." He pranced away, leaving 'the girls' to fight amongst themselves. Or, perhaps to band together. Might this be the time for female bonding, the coming together of woman and cat?

"If you stop hissing at me I'll set them outside, Suki. On the porch. The rabbits can have them. Or the squirrels. What say you?" (Notice I called her Suki, not Cat. I came to the bargaining table in good faith.)

She hissed.

"Very well, then. They're all yours. I'm not the one bound to the kitchen island by invisible chains. Nor do I closet eat in the pantry before shitting in the cellar in a box. I can escape the roses for more than a minute or two. But can the agoraphobic cat? Highly doubtful."

Suki reared her ugly head and howled. I swear she understood every word I said.

Victoria told Rocco who, due to his fickle nature, told me that she planned to take things slowly with Antonio. She wanted to be courted. She needed to be wined and dined and seen around town and to pick herself up from being made redundant by an authentic Arabian prince. Since Michel would not immediately arrive – due some sort of oil spoil, Rocco joked – Antonio was to begin the show by escorting Victoria to _Auberge du Pommier_ the first night, _Mistura_ the following night, etc. She had every intention to be coy. So, imagine my confusion when after their first night on the town the couple ordered breakfast from the master bedroom suite upstairs.

"Slut," Rocco spat on his way into the kitchen. "She's nothing more than an alley cat." He stomped to Suki and began to stroke her hard. "You're at least a barn cat. You have rural roots. Your ancestors came over on the Mayflower. Princess, on the other hand, came from the mob and she'll always be a tramp."

I smiled. "Got your nose cut off, do you Rocco? Because your princess is otherwise engaged?"

"Huh? Like that would bother me."

"It's bothering you. You're angry with a woman you don't even want. And even if you did you couldn't do much about it."

He shook his head sideways at me. "Like I need a lecture from the cook. Not a very good cook at that. That oatmeal this morning was disgusting. It had more lumps than Suki's litter box."

"You need to get over Victoria. She's not your possession."

"Oh, yes. She is. When she's in this house she is."

"I see. So you own this house then."

"Not exactly."

"Who owns this house?"

"She does."

"But she has to do what you say."

"It's an unwritten law."

"Because?"

"God, you're a nosey bitch!"

"Yes, I am. I'm now a part of this equation and I think Victoria deserves the right to be happy. And let me tell you, Rocco, that if I were up there with that man in my bed they wouldn't see either of us for eons. Not until they carried out our bones."

"He's arrogant."

"With good reason. He has everything to be arrogant about. And you're going to stand there, look me dead straight in the eye, and try to tell me that you've never been with an arrogant guy?"

His eyes frosted over. "Well, maybe one."

"Jason?"

He nodded. "Yes, Jason. The arrogant bastard broke my heart."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you that my husband left me for another man?"

"Only if you give me their phone numbers," he said and we both giggled.

"He didn't though, Rocco. He actually left me for my best friend."

His round blue eyes flooded with pity. "Well, that sucks, sunshine. That really, really sucks."

Log Book, December 14, Noon

At this cosmic moment in time Her Imperial Travesty is zarking her brains out. Has scored top-flight Dirt Flyer, an Outworlder. Black Nerf is jealous. Bughugger also jealous. Madclaw, a waste of good genes, knows something is amiss and is Wookieing out on food. Black Nerf shared nice spice with Squid Head in garage. SH wants to kark and BN said, 'when Geonosis freezes over'. He can go crink himself.

# Chapter Nine

By late afternoon Rocco had returned to his old belligerent self. "I've been thinking about what you said. You know. About your husband leaving you for your best friend." He was standing at the island petting his favorite buffalo.

"Really?"

"And do you know what, hon? If you really think about it, it makes perfect sense. You obviously liked her so why wouldn't he?"

"Thanks, Rocco."

"You're entirely welcome. Well, we better go and get dolled up, then, sunshine. Onassis has arrived and he hasn't gotten any uglier. Victoria's going to get whiplash at the dinner table tonight. Onassis or An-toenails? An-toenails or Onassis? I've been invited for the cocktail hour to bartend. Victoria made that demand of the producers but they wouldn't budge on dinner. I'm totally shut out."

"I'm sorry Rocco. You must be chuffed."

He shrugged. "Whatever that bloody well means." He looked very pleased with himself. "See Suki? I'm talking Sophie now."

I could feel a hot pair of eyes on me as I laid the trays on the Cassina table in the library and through perfect peripheral vision I could clearly see Michel. He was leaning back in his chair, legs crossed and cocktail in hand, mocking my every move. If I put my hand on my face, he put his hand to his face. If I turned my head to the side, he turned his head to the side. He was ogling me, filthy bugger. _You're no cook,_ his heavily-lidded eyes implied. _You're the biggest fraud on the planet, bar none, Sophie dear._ After a hasty exit I lingered to eavesdrop behind the fat white pillar where I heard Rocco say,

"So, you have oil wells _and_ tankers, Michel?"

"Correct."

"Any spills?"

"Actually not."

"There will be." Rocco was adamant. "There always are. Environmental disasters ahead, that's what I say."

"I sincerely hope not."

Rocco switched gears. "And I suppose you have children. Lots and lots of children. And many wives."

"Rocco!" screeched Victoria. "How rude!"

"He's Arabic! That's what they do. You know that better than anyone."

"Actually," said Michel patiently. "I haven't quite gotten around to marriage. Or children."

Rocco couldn't quit. "Well, I don't know how to tell you this, fella, but your time is running out."

"Rocco!"

"Victoria!"

Rocco was being an embarrassingly jealous dog in the manger. While he couldn't sexually conquer Victoria, he didn't want any man who could do so near her. He turned on Antonio.

"About your ranch, Antonio. I hope you realize that you Brazilians are killing off the rainforests. Destroying the ozone layer. It's murder, actually. Genocide. Soon we'll all be dead."

"Cut!" said Roman sharply. "I'm afraid this isn't going to work. Sorry Rocco but you'll have to leave. We can't use any of this footage Victoria. Surely you understand."

"I surely do. And I'll deal with Rocco later. Get out!" she screamed just before Rocco came crashing into the hallway with his tail between his legs. I could barely get out of his way.

"Bitch!" he screamed, back to the library. "She's such a bitch!" he muttered to himself before suddenly noticing me. "And so are you, Sophie. You're just an eavesdropping little bitch!" With that he scaled the stairs two at a time, heading off to his bedroom to sulk.

But he didn't stay there long. Fifteen minutes later he resurfaced in the kitchen. "Do you think there's room for two of us behind that frigging pillar, Sophie?"

I bit my lip. "You'll have to say sorry."

His eyes filled with hurt and he looked like a little boy. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted."

"How long before dinner?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Perfect. Let's have a drink in the pantry. We're entitled to have fun too."

At the dinner table, after the cameras had gone, Victoria was saying. "I grew up in this house. I don't remember my mother at all because she skipped when I was two. I just remember a lot of servants like you see buzzing around today. We don't call them servants anymore though. Today we call them _our people_. "

Polite laughter from the blokes.

Rocco elbowed me in the ribs _. "She's going to bore them to death,"_ he whispered. _"She'll put them to sleep with her stories."_

"You grew up with your father then?" Michel asked.

"Yes I did. He adored me and I adored him back. I miss him terribly."

"How did he make his fortune?"

"Well, it was my grandfather's fortune, actually. Made through many things. Gambling. Smuggling. Money laundering. Prostitution. Extortion. You know, the usual."

Laughter. The girl was bringing it home.

"I suppose he was a character," Antonio said.

"He certainly was. And he had a lot of friends coming and going. While I've renovated to make it modern, our old house looked like _Guys and Dolls_."

"Oh, I get it! Men and women."

"It's actually a movie."

"With Frank Sinatra," added Michel.

Rocco tittered _. "He's old enough to know that."_

__ " _He's forty-four. Four years older than you_."

"You're the one who said he was old enough to be your father."

"I'm changing my mind now."

"So you should, hon. The guy's after you. Big time. He can't take his eyes off you."

"He's here for Victoria."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

__ Someone in the dining room yawned. "You must have stories to tell."

"Oh, yes. I do. Plenty of stories. And since you gentlemen are apparently into dessert and I'm not, perhaps you'd like to hear one now."

"Please!" Antonio begged. "I want to know all about you, Victoria dear."

"Ditto!" Michel was not to be outdone. "I want to know all about you too."

"Very well, then. This is my father's story, actually, Vinny Bordello Junior. This was the world he knew as a little boy. To begin, then, Vinny Bordello Senior, my Nonno, was a very well dressed man. Always wore pinstriped suits, expensive silk ties, and imported Italian loafers, custom made. He was a handsome man, dark skinned and brown eyed, with thick bushy hair. While you have yet to be privy to my father's – and formerly my grandfather's – study down the hall there's a portrait of Vinny Sr. above the mantel. And no matter where you go in that room, even if you hide under a chair – and trust me, I've been there – he'll find you with those sharp hawk-like eyes. He's relentless."

"Anyway, this is what I've been told. Back in the thirties there were several thugs around Vinny Bordello Senior, the godfather, a man of huge influence and charisma. But there was no underboss. Only cling-ons, his advisers. While it was their job to protect the Bordello Family interests, each had a personal stake in things – their desire to be heir to the throne should something happen to Vinny along the way, like maybe he'd be suddenly and fatally gunned down. Most notable of these thugs was a weasel-faced punk named Sammy the Sheep who had beady little eyes and the tendency to baaah when he laughed. If Sheep knew anything it was gambling and he knew it inside out. If _cracking the nut, card washing, coat-tailing, doubling down and fifth street_ means anything to anyone, well, that was Sammy the Sheep. And secondly, there was a slick dude, Greased Down Eddie, so called because he looked as though he'd been swimming in crude oil."

Polite laughter.

Rocco giggled. _"Onassis understands oil, the greasy bastard_. _Here comes the thug talk now._ "

Victoria slipped into gangster slang. "Anyway, Eddie comes here from Sicily, by way of Vinny's brother. And he goes after this very hot dame named Sally McGinty, Vinny's upstairs maid, who double-dips as a casino cashier at night. According to Vinny, Sally is the kind of trash a guy would like to skip past his mother's approval for and marry just to spite the church. She is leggy and has shiny short dark hair, round blue eyes, and apparently a body that doesn't quit. Greased Down Eddie goes after her in a bad way."

"And does he win her?" asked Antonio lasciviously.

"That's another story. For another evening."

"Ahh..."

"Getting back to this story, then, at one time there is a big house at the back of this property. My grandfather builds it for his mother, to bring her over from Sicily. However, by the time she arrives here she is too frail to live on her own so he moves her into his house, this house, where she lives until the day she dies. In the meantime, Vinny Sr. has to do something with the new building so... was it his fault that he turns it into a joint? Not the kind of joint you smoke, or a clip joint, but the kind of joint where plugs go to shoot craps and to dance and maybe certain guys get lucky in one of the bedrooms upstairs. But there is class clientele as well. High-class dames with their glad rags on and literally dripping with ice. Both guys and dolls hang at the gin mill, into the hooch, then onto the casino where they smoke butts like ninety and drop plenty of jack as the night wears on. Get the picture? And in the basement is a very nice, yet highly illegal, gambling den where the Mafiosi heavies tend to gather and the big bucks roll. But to enter there you have to pass by Big Balls Malone, a human brick wall. Balls weighs about three fifty and has a face so battered you can only improve it by pasting it here and there. He is big but not that smart."

_"Punching,"_ Rocco whispered _. "Pasting is punching."_

"I gathered."

"Balls has this muscled forehead used specifically for knocking punks out cold before relieving them of their bean shooters. He doesn't bump off, though. Just frisks plugs in an unusual manner. A former crooked cop, Balls is not a hood to trust. Everyone thinks he is just a big Palooka but Vinny knows better.

When my father is seven, things change within the organization. Vinny Sr. appoints an underboss, to everyone's chagrin. Joe Toronto is a hood from Montreal and about the best- looking guy around. This I know for certain because of various portraits still hanging in the family gallery. He has skin the color of coffee ice cream and eyes with those huge black pupils, the type to draw you in. He is all Versace before Versace's day. You know, expensive white Italian cotton shirts – the type worn by underlings to weddings – always with cuff links, and he smells of Italian cologne. Short, dark and handsome, he could be Pacino's brother, if you know what I mean. Drop dead gorgeous."

_"I like Pacino,"_ said Rocco.

"Who doesn't?"

"So, he meets Vinny in a very strange way, ironic actually. Vinny sends for Joe Toronto, a known member of the Vadalia Family of Montreal which Vinny does business with from time to time – market sharing we would call it today. Anyway, Vinny summons Joe T after learning he's been passing orphan paper all over town."

_"Bad cheques,"_ Rocco said, elbowing me hard.

"I'm not the one with the language barrier. The two gentlemen in the dining room barely speak English."

Victoria continued, "So, I hear you passed a few orphan papers'," says Vinny. 'Apparently using my name.' At this point, Joe T is supposed to be scared. He is supposed to cringe and fall to his knees begging forgiveness, especially with Greased Down Eddie and Sammy the Sheep standing behind him packing wires. Instead Joe T says, 'It was the fastest way to get to you, I figured. To finally meet you at last. You can have the money back, Godfather. I don't need it. I'm top peterman in the country. Bar none. And you know it."

_"Safe cracker,"_ Rocco added _._

"Thanks. She lost me there."

"Vinny is speechless," Victoria continued. "He falls back in his chair. 'Wattayou want from me, Joe Toronto? You know you're not supposed to steal. It's against what we stand for. Am I supposed to respect you for that?' And what do you think Joe T said?"

"What?" came quickly from both spellbound blokes.

"He said, 'Quite frankly, yes. From what I've heard of you, Godfather, you respect a man who is at the top of his profession, no matter what it happens to be. And it's not always about the money, if you look at it the right way. Sometimes it's about information.' Well that gets Vinny thinking. Joe T is growing on him fast. He says, 'What's your deal, Joe Toronto? You want a little piece of the action? Everybody wants something. What's your deal?' Joe T shakes his head. 'Not what you might think, Godfather. It's your sister that I'm asking for. I want your permission to marry Belladonna.'" Victoria started to laugh then, a rich throaty laugh. "Again I know that neither of you have been privy to the study down the hall but there's a portrait of my great Aunt Belladonna hanging among the rest. She was a rather large, homely woman with masculine charms. Huge honker."

The gentlemen respectfully laughed.

"So, he wasn't marrying her for her looks," Michel said. "More for the status. A position with the Don."

"Exactly!"

"And?" asked Antonio, with renewed interest. "What did your grandfather say to this proposal?"

"Well, after almost dying of shock he says to Joe T, 'You would do all of that for me? Marry my ugly sister and father her children? You would do all of that for me?' to which Joe replied, 'But, of course. You have only to say the word.'

"And they married," Michel said matter-of-factly. "Since Joe T became underboss they had to have. And had children, I presume?"

Victoria giggled. "Seven. Apparently homely women put out."

More polite giggling.

Michel said, "Tell us more, Victoria. You do it so very well!"

"Alright, then. We'll adjourn to the library for brandy." Then in a loud voice, "And Sophie and Rocco will have to switch pillars if they want to hear the rest."

Busted. We grinned at each other.

_"I'm not missing this one,"_ Rocco whispered.

"Me either."

__ After the three partiers had settled into the stuffed leather sofas, Rocco and I sneaked to the opposite pillar like two little kids.

Rocco elbowed me. _"We have no shame."_

I just shook my head.

"Well," Victoria began, "first of all, there were a lot of pissed off guys. An outsider has out-smarted them all and nicks the top spot for himself. As easy as marrying Belladonna. Furthermore, Joe T is smart, decisive and protective of Vinny, admirable qualities. It is like Vinny has lucked into a son. He has a soft spot for Joe Toronto until the day he dies."

_"I like Joe Toronto,"_ I said. _"I'm getting the hots for him now."_

"I'll set you up. He's ninety-six. But you'll have to go to Sicily. He and Belladonna took their family back there after Vinny Sr. died."

"And Belladonna?"

"Gone. Only last year though. She lived a long and fruitful life."

"So, here's the deal," Victoria chimed. "With Joe Toronto on board, Vinny Sr. is talking expansion, possibly into the States. But I'm going to leave it there now. There has to be something for the nights to come."

Groans from the guys. "You can't leave us hanging!"

"Oh, yes. I can. I'm off to bed leaving the two of you to get to know each other. Sweet dreams." With that she floated up the stairs and down the hall.

When I returned to the kitchen the maids had again done their superb job of cleaning and polishing and that alone might have cheered me, if not for the daily emails I, at last, had time to read. There were several excuses from my solicitors who'd made little progress in freeing up my assets, plus a note from Potsy saying that Napoleon was now playing host to two new squatters: my husband and his pregnant girl. I started to cry. Before howling, that was. Before sliding my butt down a cupboard door to the floor and disintegrating.

"Oh, my," a sexy male voice cooed from the hallway. "I usually have the opposite effect on women. They usually like me a lot." Michel stood leaning against the pillar dividing the kitchen and open hallway.

"I'll thank you to leave my kitchen, sir."

"You're confusing me again. Does it belong to the cat or does it belong to you?"

"Go away!" God, the man was annoying.

"I shall. I'm absolutely obedient when it comes to beautiful women. They rule me."

"No doubt."

He smiled. "You don't seem to like me at all, do you?"

"Not particularly."

"Why not? I'm a nice guy. Is it my looks you don't particularly care for?"

"That's likely it. I don't find you attractive at all."

"You're hurting my feelings now, you realize. I'm devastated. You've stabbed me in the heart."

"You're here for Victoria. So why don't you apply all that charm and charisma to the task at hand. The producers will be expecting it. It's how they make their money"

"Oh, yes. The producers. They really frighten me."

Damn him. "Michel. You realize, of course, that you'll soon be kicked off the show anyway. That Victoria will choose Antonio in the end because she fancies him. A lot."

"I hope so. If she fancied me I really would be scared."

I must have looked silly, sitting there on the floor with a wet face. "Then why don't you leave?"

"What? And leave the cat in harm's way? Look how frightened she is."

Suki was snoring her head off.

"So it seems you're stuck with me for the entire filming. I can conduct business from anywhere in the world, given the digital age and electronics. So why not here? My bedroom suite is as posh as the best hotel. Would you like to try it out, Sophie dear?"

"Not particularly. As I said before I find you condescending and unattractive. What's more, you're just playing here, Michel. You're playing your own game. You see us as guppies through your piranha eyes. And you're having a lot of fun at our expense. While putting in time until your next oil spill."

He walked forward, extended his hand, and before I could protest he hauled me to my feet. "One day I'll have you in my bed. You need to be prepared for that." With that he sauntered away.

Shortly after I turned out the lights and settled into bed for the night, a flurry of excited male voices come floating through my open window.

"Bangtails," I heard someone say. "Seventeen to one. Saturday. It's been rigged."

"I'm in."

"Me too. Put me down for a grand."

"So, what's to do about Shorty?"

"Shorty is bad news. Sheep says he's a peeper. Sent here to infiltrate. To spy and tell."

"Harlem sunset?"

"Too bad. He seems like a swell guy."

And just as the voices trailed off into the distance the lights came back on in my room.

# Chapter Ten

The following morning Victoria swished into the kitchen wearing a vintage back and red peignoir-set that trailed along behind her. Her face bore the dewy glow of a woman in lust.

"Antonio's wonderful!" she said to the cat. "More than wonderful! He's divine." She turned to me. "He sneaked into my bedroom last night. He's divine, Sophie, in every way. And he's all mine!"

"So, I guess you owe two people something." Well, she did.

"I do. What is it that you want?"

"I want Antonio."

She laughed. "You can't have Antonio. You'll have to settle for something else."

"Michel?"

"I doubt Michel would be interested in a domestic."

Ouch! "Well, you don't seem to want him."

"I don't know that yet. I won't know until our dinner out tonight, just the two of us, when we'll have some time alone. And then there's after dinner, of course. When the cameras go away. That's the part I'm really looking forward to."

"But..."

"Yes? But?"

"But I thought you liked Antonio."

She threw back her butt-length hair. "You are naïve, Sophie! I have the opportunity to sleep with two of the most gorgeous men on the planet and you think I'm going to give that up? Not in this lifetime. It's a reality show, remember. It's expected of me. _The Bachlorette?_ Hello!"

"And they're alright with that, are they? Antonio and Michel?"

"It's not about them. It's about me. This is my show."

Of course. How foolish of me! It was all about Victoria.

"Oh, and don't give me that 'I'm so appalled' look. I deserve some fun after Prince Majeed ripped my heart out."

Broken hearts I understood. "How long were you with the prince?"

She cocked her head at me. "Three years. Off and on."

"And the problem?"

"Other women. And a few wives. He had trouble committing."

I had to smile. "My husband couldn't either. I guess we have something in common then, Victoria."

She tossed me a quizzical look before turning to go. The message read, ' _You and I have absolutely nothing in common, cookie.'_ "I'll want something wonderful for brunch. I'm absolutely starving."

All right, then. Brunch. Call Sarah. Barely was I off the phone before Antonio strolled into the kitchen, his gorgeous head rising above a powder-blue pullover.

"So this is where you live, Sophie."

"Actually not. Suki lives here. I actually have quarters at the back of the house."

He approached Suki with caution. "She's rather large, isn't she?"

"Take that up with Rocco. He's the one that feeds her."

Slowly he extended his hand in Suki's direction. "I have two cats of my own in Rio. They usually like me a lot."

What was not to like? Jet-black hair worn a bit long but not overly so? Alluring brown eyes that could presumably coax the knickers off a nun? Beautiful body made for wrapping around a woman and taking her to extraordinary heights?

"What's her name?"

"Suki."

"Suki." He patted her on the head. "Suki girl. Will you be mine?"

Suki didn't have to think about it. In one split second she hissed, barked, bit hard, leapt to the floor, and headed for the cellar.

I couldn't stop laughing. "They usually like you, do they? Sorry. A lot?"

"They usually do," he whined, feelings hurt. "Cats usually like me without question."

Sophie to the rescue. "Cheer up, Antonio. Suki doesn't like anyone, really. Victoria, yes. And Rocco when she's in a good mood. But she doesn't like me at all. Me she uses for hissing practice."

"Is she always in the kitchen?"

"Ninety-nine percent of the time. She's agoraphobic."

"And you don't mind her?"

"Yes, I mind her. But she comes with the territory and I can't do much about it. Let's just say we have our moments. Sometimes I retaliate."

Antonio was now licking his wound by sticking his finger in his luscious mouth. "I like you, Sophie. Are you married?"

"Not at the moment, no. I'm divorced."

"You have a British accent. Was he also British?

"Yes. He lives in London. In my house."

"I see. So, you don't live here then."

"No. I'm only here temporarily. But that's a bitter story. Why don't we talk about you?"

Antonio had no problem turning the conversation to his gorgeous self. As he'd told Victoria and Michel the previous evening, he'd grown up on the streets of Rio de Janeiro and while a wealthy family had taken him in at age eight, those first years had taught him to be tough, maybe even ruthless.

"What you British value as scruples are not necessarily values of my own," he added in the end. "But I'm street smart. Not easy to take advantage of. Impossible, in fact."

The following morning the holiday decorators arrived with their glitter and ladders and the intention of decking the halls and I wanted to deck someone too. Possibly the nice Nigerian man, Napoleon, who'd wasted no time in replying to my 'get out of my house' text by saying _Bite me._ He obviously didn't know about my bonded teeth. I couldn't even bite into a cob of corn let alone gnaw through the thick skin of a con artist. To compound matters I was in the kitchen, mid-afternoon, preparing Victoria's precious carrot sticks, and only poking Suki with one or two, when I felt a hot gust of air on the back of my neck. Rocco had gone out with Victoria so I knew it wasn't him. Besides, Rocco didn't like girls.

"Beautiful Sophie," he whispered lustfully. "How could any man resist you?"

"You could speak to my ex-husband about that," I said slowly. "He had no trouble achieving it." I didn't dare turn around. The breathing was molten now as two firm hands clutched my shoulders and thumbs began to massage. Eek! "You need to stop that. You need to go away."

"Turn around and tell me that."

"No." I _so_ wanted to turn around. I wanted to leap right into his arms and fall to the floor with him in one glorious heap. "Go away, Antonio. You know this isn't right. You're with Victoria."

"Maybe I am. And maybe I'd rather be with you."

"For how long? Fifteen minutes?"

"It doesn't have to be like that. We could meet discretely from time to time. Perhaps in your room."

All right, then. I turned around to squarely confront the second most beautiful man on the planet. "Oh, I get it now. You want to saw off a piece with the cook. You're used to doing that. That's what servants are for. Shagging."

He looked hurt. "It's not like that."

"Oh yes, it is. And I'll thank you to bloody well leave my kitchen before I scream for help."

Antonio backed away. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Oh really! Well, maybe I'll just tattle. I'm actually known as quite a tattletale."

Oh, oh. It seemed I'd crossed that wee fine line between servants and money. Antonio lowered his voice. "Telling would be a mistake. It would not bode well for you, I'm afraid."

"I see."

"I hope you do."

Thankfully, the tension was broken by Suki who sprang like a crouching tiger from her perch, hissing and biting and chasing Antonio's ankles out of the room. He was no match for the ferocious feline. No, his only hope was to escape up the stairs with Suki hissing and biting. It was hilarious, really, with Suki attacking and Antonio swatting. Hiss, bite, swat... hiss, bite, swat....

"Sic him, Suki," I called but she didn't need the boost. She chased the letch all the way to the top of the stairs.

With Antonio safely behind closed doors, the cat slinked back to the kitchen where she barely managed to mount the countertop, exhausted.

"That was very brave!" I praised. "I'm so very proud of you! You conquered your fears, Suki. You actually left the kitchen. Do you realize that? You left your self-imposed prison."

Suki half-heartedly hissed at me before closing her eyes.

Log Book, December 16, Nine p.m.

Clone wars. Madclaw attacked Dirt Flyer/Outworlder with devastating Separatist weapon – teeth. Are heroes made by the times? Or, did Madclaw merely find someone she disliked more than Black Nerf/Sophie? Anyway, with Captain Madclaw in command we do not need massive Droid army. By the Force! DFO now on Bantha Dung list.

One blissful surf and I was riding the wave in my baggies, carving and cross-stepping, catching the face of a bomb. Except that I was surfing the web. Hmm. _Private Eye Brazil_ , a website in picturesque Rio, run by former police officers and lawyers. _Investigations are handled following legal and ethical procedures. Privacy guaranteed. Background Checks_ and links to articles, such as _Infidelity dissected: new research on why people cheat_. I emailed the link to David.

I needed answers to several questions, actually. Who was Antonio exactly? While he'd given the show's researchers a lively video of friends and bars and an address in Rio that checked out, he mostly lived on his yacht now, he said, and had provided proof of ownership. Could we find this lovely family who'd adopted Antonio, age eight? I was determined to try.

# Chapter Eleven

So much for my new friendship with Madclaw, who woke up from her morning nap in a foul mood. Cats cannot change their spots, so it seemed, or in Suki's case, stripes.

"You're not a very nice cat," I responded to her hissing. "I've given you _Temptations_ treats and catnip and everything and still you treat me like an intruder. I can't quite figure you out."

She hissed and spat.

"I have to tell you that I'm tired of your attitude, Cat. There are ways to make you behave and none of them pretty, rest assured."

She hissed, spat and barked. She was afraid of me, all right.

It was at that very moment we were joined by a third presence, a bloke in riding gear. Crop in hand, Antonio walked to the island where he lowered his voice. "Just to jog your memory, Sophie. There'll be nothing said about what happened here yesterday. Nothing." With that he smacked Suki on the nose with his riding crop before striding from the room.

That evening there was a ruckus outside the library where two blokes appeared to be embroiled in an argument, testosterone raging. I slinked like a mink to the pillar between the kitchen and hallway.

"Exactly what will it take for you to back off?" growled Antonio.

Michel chuckled. "Not being financially distressed, or otherwise distressed, I can't answer that question, Antonio. Why would you even ask such a thing?"

"Because I want Victoria. And I'll do anything to get her."

"I see. Anything, you say. Such as?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know. It's better that you don't"

"Am I to take that as a threat? If so, it's an odd one. I prefer pistols myself. I could meet you in the garden at dawn."

"Are you trying to be funny? If so, you've miserably failed. Victoria is mine. She pledged herself to me last night."

"You are an odd sort, aren't you? If Victoria pledged herself to you, why is she now upstairs preparing to pledge herself to me? Elaborately preparing, I might add. It seems to be taking her forever."

That did it. Antonio drew his perfectly manicured fist and socked Michel on the chin.

Michel laughed. "Surely you can do better than that, Antonio."

He could. Soon Victoria's suitors were on the floor, with only Michel landing blows. From out of nowhere the film crew appeared and the grand foyer lit up like _The_ _Eiffel Tower_ on New Year's Eve. Hmm, Antonio... _Raised on the streets of Rio and unscrupulously tough_? Had it not been for the extras diving in to separate the pair, the Arab may have pulverized the street-smart Brazilian.

Suddenly Victoria appeared at the top of the stairs. "What do you think you're doing you idiots! You barbarians!" she screeched.

The cameras rolled as Victoria, in a see-through red nightgown with only a skimpy thong beneath, ranted on. "You heathens! You bloody big apes! Goons! That's what you are. Goons. You should both be given a needle. To be put down."

Michael looked up. "I'm sorry, darling. It's won't happen again." He doubled over with laughter. "You're such a wimp, Antonio!"

Antonio punched him again. And again Michel punched back. Hard. Again the crew was dispatched to break things up and to confine the two to respective corners.

I stepped into the open, my cell phone on video. "What? That's it? No blood? What about the ratings?"

From her perch in the upstairs hallway Victoria turned on me. "This isn't funny, Sophie! It's animalistic. Those two apes need to go back to the trees." With that she twirled around and sped to her bedroom door. Bang!

While Antonio dashed up the stairs to bang on a locked door I said to Michel, who was dusting himself off, "I know someone who isn't getting shagged tonight."

He grinned. "Don't be so sure. I have a back-up plan. You."

"You should be so lucky."

"Don't count me out yet."

"I never counted you in."

I hadn't planned to bring Churchill, my plush toy cat, along on my journey although I clearly owed her a trip, since I'd cut off her ear in a fit of rage at age seven. She was old and ragged and had somehow found her way into my suitcase, possibly for an adventure. I owed her that much. But, alas, Churchill didn't deserve to go down that way.

It all began when I dared to dangle Churchill in front of Suki's nose. "This is your house guest, Suki. Her name is Churchill and as you can well see she's been through the wars."

Hiss. Growl. Spat. Suki was in fine spirits at midnight.

"Well, that's not very nice. Churchill is here from London and she'd like to be your friend."

Great hissing. Great growling. Great spitting.

"What's that you say, Churchill?" I held her mouth to my ear. "I see. I see." I turned back to Suki. "I'm sorry to say this but Churchill finds you a bit rude. She also thinks you may be bias because she's missing an ear. Her feelings are deeply hurt and she'd like an apology. She wants you to say sorry."

Suki looked confused. She cocked her head sideways at Churchill before deciding that no one-eared, rat of a cat, was going to intimidate her. Whap! With one great swipe of the paw she dislodged Churchill from my hand and sent her flying through the air. And that was just the beginning. Suki leapt from the island to the floor where she was on Churchill like flies on pie, tearing her to bits with her razor-sharp teeth and tossing her remains in the air.

"Bad cat!" I hollered, to no avail.

Up, down, rip. Up, down, rip. Up down... sawdust. Poor Churchill was dead.

"Bad cat!" I screamed but Suki just sauntered to the pantry where she proceeded to eat herself sick, as Roman victors do. I, on the other hand, took to a stool at the kitchen island to contemplate the horror.

"Shall I sweep that up for you?" asked a familiar voice.

I shook my head.

Michel smiled. "You shouldn't wave a red flag in front of a cat. They're worse than bulls in that regard."

"Thanks. I suppose you watched the whole thing."

"Do you want me to lie?"

"No."

"Yes, then. I watched the whole thing. You were hilarious, actually. As I've said before, you're very funny."

"Thanks. That was my friend that got ripped."

He perched on a stool beside me. "I don't know how to tell you this, Sophie, but you have odd taste in friends. Peculiar, in fact."

Odd? Peculiar? I'd heard the words before. "You wouldn't get it, Michel. She was my childhood protector and we had this bloodletting ceremony where I cut off all my hair and her left ear. We bonded. We're blood sisters."

"You're a very interesting girl, Sophie. Extremely complicated. I suppose you know that?"

"Yes, actually, I do."

"You wouldn't like to run away with me, would you?"

I looked away. "Is that a proposal?"

"Of sorts."

"Is it because of the dead cat or because you can't sleep with Victoria tonight?"

"Neither. Just so you know I had no intention of sleeping with Victoria. I'm scared of her actually. But when that pompous ass Antonio thought he could intimidate me, well, I had to show off. You know. For the show. Ratings."

"For your big fat ego, you mean. You had to prove you could beat him up."

He nodded. "And I did. And I'll do it again if he challenges me which I sincerely doubt."

"Well, I hope you're happy now. You can leave the show with your precious pride intact."

Michel stood up. "Well, I'll leave you to burry your dead, then. But I'm not giving up on you." With that he sauntered from the room.

Finally, a day off. Thank you some obscure god! Another day of insanity might have polished me off. As it was, I had plans, secret plans with only Chauffeur as accomplice. I left the mansion early and returned just before midnight feeling smug. FaceTime rang at four a.m. the following morning.

"Thanks, Pots," I said sleepily. "I need this rude awakening."

"You do, Sophie. You certainly do, given the nonsense going on here and you sticking your head in the Toronto sand."

"Before I forget, thanks for the credit card, Pots. You saved me. And you know I'll pay you back plus interest."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Sophie. Your parents left me wealthy and it's all going to you in the end anyway. To you and Toddy. It will be my treat."

I didn't want to think about Todd at that particular time so I didn't. "About the nonsense. Guess things have gone from bad to worse there?"

"Only if you count three officious houseguests, all of whom think it's my duty to cook for them."

"Kasha's pregnant?"

"Right. I'm cooking for four then. If we can believe Kasha since she's been known to stretch the truth. There's no physical evidence as yet."

"You called the authorities?"

"Oh, yes. I did. And they wanted to remove me. Apparently, you didn't think to have David's name removed from the title. This house is half his still."

"It's not though. His name was never on the title. Henry made certain of that. It was in both Henry's name and mine and when Henry died it automatically went to me. It wasn't part of the settlement."

"Well, he's going to challenge everything in court now and bragging that he shall have this mansion for Kasha and the baby. You need to come home, Sophie. Now. It's a disaster here."

"I shan't be long, Pots. I'll be there soon but as it now stands I'd just be stuck at _The Dorchester_. I'll not live in that house with David and Kasha again. Hang in as though the troops are on their way. And they are. Stiff upper lip."

"Stiff upper lip, be damned! I can already tell you haven't any plan."

"Oh, really? So, you won't be glad to see my old chauffeur back then?"

Pause. "Sophie! Do you mean Pinto? You mean Pinto is on the way?"

"Could be. Who better to con a con than a con?"

"I could hug you."

"I think that's called jumping the gun. But let's just wait and see what happens."

Minutes later, Victoria stumbled into the kitchen, all crumpled and cranky. Obviously, she hadn't been to bed. "Where were you yesterday? I needed you. I needed to talk to someone. Someone I could trust."

"Day off, Victoria. We cooks get those once in a while. Did the agency not send a replacement?"

She was at the island petting her purring pussy. "They did. She was old. Old enough for Suki to like her so I guess that says it all." She flashed me a great broad grin.

"You needed to talk to me?"

"Yes. Desperately. I tried to kick Michel out of the show yesterday but he wouldn't go."

"Really?"

"And the producers won't make him leave. They want the whole eleven episodes. Well, twelve, counting the first one, the elimination show. And if Michel leaves, it's over. Isn't that ludicrous? It's all so bloody scripted. It's my show and I should get to call the shots. And quite frankly, I'm thinking of calling them with a gun."

I smiled. "What, Victoria? Michel hasn't fallen under your spell?"

"Oh, Michel thinks this is just some big game. That he can toy with me and hurt my feelings. The viewers are not to know that he doesn't actually want to marry me. They are to believe he's still in the race."

I handed over a steaming cup of coffee. "It doesn't make sense to me either that Michel wants to stay if he doesn't want to marry you."

"Do you know what he said, Sophie? He said that he's staying for the rest of the story. I don't think he even likes me but he wants to know what happened in Nonno's house. With the Chicago gangsters. And he wants to know if Greased Down Eddy gets the girl, Sally. Or if he gets shot. Isn't that pathetic?"

I shrugged. "Not at all. You tell a good story, Victoria. I'm anxious for the next installment myself."

She widened her deep blue eyes. "Really? I've told it so often you'd think it would be boring to me. But it's not. It's my legacy, you see. Besides a lot of money it's all I have."

"Well, you have this wonderful mansion. And Suki. Not to forget Rocco."

"And a mouthy cook."

She smiled at me again and for the first time in the haunted house I felt a strange bond with a strange friend, which ought to have been an omen.

After Sarah's scrumptious seafood dinner, the three reality show personalities retired to the library, for cognac and the rest of the story, while Rocco and I lurked behind the fat white pillar. Rocco, the genius, had set up a little bar.

_"Drink up, sunshine."_ He handed me a snifter. _"It's going to be a long night. When she gets going she really gets going."_

"So," Victoria began in thug speak. "Vinny's brother Jimmy is a big deal in New York and points out to him that Illinois is there for the taking, duck soup. Duck soup, except for Chicago Skinny who is Don to a very big organization. Chicago Skinny gets wind of the takeover and heads to Toronto to try and strike a deal. A partnership, he conveys through the moccasin telegraph."

Rocco shrugged.

_"Smoke signals,"_ I said.

"Well, that's confusing! She needs to stay in her own story and quit with the First Nations stuff."

"A mutually-known third party arranges the meeting," said Victoria. "Because that's how it's done. Mafioso must not introduce himself to another Mafioso."

"I understand," said Michel. "It's not unlike business today. Referrals. People introduce other people with similar interests. It saves a lot of footwork."

"Shells, you mean. In Vinny's case it was shells."

"Bullets?" Antonio said in a raised voice. "There was shooting?"

"I'm afraid so. And my father sees it all. He's playing in a back part of the basement used as a storage area for his grandmother's furniture and someone accidentally locks the door. So, he's trapped there and doesn't call out because the meeting has already begun. He's ok though, because he has hidden there to watch poker games before. He simply sits on a box and peers through the key hole."

"And?" chimed Michel and Antonio in unison.

"A lot of blood, I'm afraid. Bumping off. You see, Vinny is suspicious right from the start. My Nonno is no rube. Turf wars, is what he's thinking. And while Big Balls has frisked Skinny and his three thugs who come to the table, he hasn't counted on two carloads of goons. Big Balls Malone is the first one to go."

"No! Not Big Balls!"

"I heard that, Sophie!" Victoria hollered. "You need to get a life."

_"Told ya, hon,"_ Rocco whispered _._ _"If you're going to eavesdrop you'd better learn to do it smart."_

"I also heard that, Rocco." Victoria was on a roll. "But the plot thickens. There is a subplot here as well."

That got us all hyperventilating.

"Subplot? There's more?" Antonio rasped.

"Absolutely. Remember I told you that Big Balls is a former crooked cop and not to be trusted? He is a mole, actually. He has tipped off the johns and they're coming to raid the joint. At midnight."

"And what time are we talking about now?"

"Shortly before nine p.m."

Michel jumped in. "Nine p.m. and two carloads of guns have just pulled up. Your grandfather and his associates are at the meeting table with Chicago Skinny and company. In the basement. Equal numbers, I should think."

"You would think correctly. There is Vinny Sr., Joe Toronto, Sammy the Sheep and Greased Down Eddie."

"All without guns."

"Correct. Skinny's men are allowed to frisk as well, before the meeting. In good faith."

Michel laughed. "I've been to a lot of board room meetings and have never once been frisked."

"It will be my pleasure," said Victoria and they both laughed. Nothing from Antonio. "Back to the story then. Zero bean shooters in the basement, or so we think. Just four pigeons anxious to make a deal. However, when the Chicago goons start burning powder outside and begin to storm down the stairs, there is a very huge surprise. From under the table come automatic firearms, as if taped there for a reason, and the Bordello Family begins to fire back. My father said it was like watching an old western movie, with bad guys coming through the pass and getting blown away. Narrow stairway, four machine guns. You figure it out."

_"Easy pickings,"_ I said. __

"Like you've ever watched a western movie."

"You'd be surprised."

__ "And when the smoke cleared?" asked Michel, who had obviously watched a few westerns himself.

"A lot dead. Including Chicago Skinny who is blown away by one of his own men. And tragically, Sammy the Sheep, who has taken to hiding under the table and stands up only after he thinks the coast is clear. He gets the Harlem sunset by a Chicago mobster who is in the process of breathing his final breath."

"But Joe Toronto?" asked Michel.

"Joe Toronto actually saves the day."

"How so?" asked Antonio, obviously sucked in.

"Well, we now have ten p.m. and a lot of dead bodies. And Joe knows the johns are about to raid because his sister is married to a cop. This is a tightly kept secret, naturally, because Mafioso is not allowed relatives on the force. But his secret brother-in-law has warned Joe T of this raid by telephoning him just before the Chicago crew arrives so he thinks fast. The bodies have to go. And so does everything else. The whole caboodle. 'Carpets!' Joe T hollers. 'Roll them in carpets. There's plenty in the storeroom and more in the bedrooms upstairs. Roll 'em and let's get 'em out.!'

"Thugs come out of the woodwork then to get the job done. Vinny has plenty of help. Upstairs guys are dismantling the casino and on the second floor, girls are making their beds."

"And Vinny?" asked Michel. "Is he alright?"

"Vinny is wounded. Shot in the arm and bleeding in a very bad way. He is taken to the hospital emergency by a couple of the boys."

I turned to Rocco _. "My ancestors all seem so boring now. Fought in wars, that's all they did."_

_"Mine ate road kill,"_ said Rocco _. "Try topping that."_

__ "And? And?" squawked the listeners

"I'm not sure you'll like the ending." Victoria was being coy.

"Why not?" Antonio screeched.

"I'm just not sure you'll like it."

"And if we don't?" said Michel impatiently. "Will it be life altering? Will I slit my own throat?"

Victoria laughed her seductive, throaty laugh. "Probably not. But here goes. Midnight is fast approaching. Bodies have been rolled into carpets and lugged up the stairs. Bloodstains have been cleaned and basement walls whitewashed, still drying. Not that the basement is important in the end because it isn't."

Silence. It had been a long night.

"So, the buttons arrive, sirens blaring. Several cars, I'm told. And they burst through the front doors only to find... Well, what do you think they find?"

"An empty house?" Antonio guessed.

"No. Any more ideas?"

Nothing.

"They find a little old lady dressed in black and rocking in her chair like Whistler's Mother, listening to Rossini on the radio and crying. 'So beautiful,' she tells her baffled intruders. And she repeats the only two English words she knows. 'So beautiful.'"

"Your great grandmother!" Michel guessed.

"Of course! It was her house, after all. And she got to live in it for approximately half an hour."

_"I like this story,"_ I whispered to Rocco _._

"It gets better."

"Do you mean you've heard it before?"

"About a thousand times."

"And still you stayed to listen."

__ He laughed _. "It's my favorite bedtime story."_

__ "What did they do with the bodies?" Antonio asked. "They had to have hidden them somewhere."

"You think?" Victoria laughed.

"Yes. Definitely. There had to be quite a few. They couldn't possibly have buried them in the ravine out back. Too many bodies and too little time." Well, Antonio knew quite a lot about buried bodies, as I was about to learn.

"You are absolutely right, Antonio. So..."

"So?" he hollered.

"So, they loaded them into their own cars and drove them home."

"Home?" asked Michel. "Only one little problem there, as I see it. They had to cross the border."

"You're absolutely right, Michel. But Joe Toronto thought of that, too. He sent them home by way of _Niagara Falls_."

Early the following morning Pinto's handsome face came onto my iPhone screen.

"Lovely Sophie! I am so happy to reacquaint! It's been far too long."

Trouble never looked so good I have to say: dark glossy skin; classic cheekbones; the straight magnificent nose and round brown eyes that sparkled with trouble.

"Two days I believe, Pinto." Our meet-up in Las Vegas to plot and scheme on my day off had gone well. And while Pinto had started off in his soft British accent, (long story, different movie) he switched over to Pinto, the immigrant. "More. It is two days, eleven hours, and thirty-three minutes according to the Rolex watch I stole from David."

"You didn't!"

"I did too. There wasn't much to do at your house last time so I rummaged through things. Chauffeurs do that you know. They steal when unsupervised."

"But you don't need to steal! You have diamond mines."

He chuckled. "Diamond magnates are the worst kind. They bore easily and break the law for thrill. It was another notch on my passport. Ha, ha! I stole David's watch!"

"They likely taught you that growing up in Nigeria, stealing. That and shooting diamond thieves."

"I shot a couple this morning in fact. I don't kill them, you know, Sophie. I just scare them away. I shoot at their feet and you should see how fast they run."

"Pinto!"

"Sophie!"

"It's good to have you back."

"I'm delighted. It's boring here in Abuja. Madam Potsy will be like a breath of fresh air."

I giggled. "She hasn't changed in a few weeks you know. She still rules with an iron fist. She still makes Margaret Thatcher look lame."

"Look dead, you mean. Because she is. I can't wait."

"You have the documents."

"I do. This is going to be so much fun! I wish you were coming home though."

"I am. In the very near future. But I'm not interested in sharing with David and Kasha just now. I don't need any more punishment. And why should I suffer when you can run interference?"

That deep rich laugh started from the bowel and gradually worked its way up. "It's what I love about you, Sophie. You play me like a drum."

# Chapter Twelve

Rocco slinked into the kitchen dragging his belly on the floor. He was wearing an outfit straight out of _Cats_ so I sang,

Midnight

Not a sound from the pavement

Has the moon lost her memory?

She is smiling alone

"Yuk!"

"Well, aren't you the cheery one? Victoria neglecting you again?"

"Snooty bitch." He pranced to the island to stroke the only female is his good journal. "I didn't mean you, Suki girl. You're the best girl ever."

Suki meowed loudly. She was Rocco's girl, alright.

"We have to get that fucking Zorro out of this house, Suki. How are we going to do that?"

Suki meowed three times.

"I see. With a gun."

They were an odd couple, wiry little Rocco and huge hairy Suki. I guessed they would weigh about the same. "I don't think it's going to be that easy, Rocco. Dynamite, maybe."

"Who asked you?" he barked and then quickly, "I didn't mean that, sunshine. I'm just bitchy."

"You're suffering Victoria withdrawal, that's all."

"Maybe. But there's something about the guy I don't trust. When he's around my radar goes off like a stun gun."

"Victoria likes him. She likes him a lot."

"Victoria does," she reiterated from the hallway. "Victoria is in love. And that's not all. Victoria is engaged!" She twirled her red silk skirt into the room, brandishing a rock the size of a doorknob.

"You'll need a sling for that," I said jealously.

She nodded. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I bought it myself since Antonio's funds are a bit tied up just now. I have good taste, don't I?" She hooked her arm through Rocco's and led him away. "It's time we had a drink together, don't you think? Just the two of us? Antonio has gone out for a while so we finally have time to talk. You'll help me plan the wedding, of course. The show's producers are very excited."

After dinner Rocco came somberly into the kitchen. "Get a joint from Chauffeur, will you hon? In fact, go get yourself laid and get us a couple."

"What's the matter?"

"What do you think? Make it snappy. I'll come to your room in ten minutes flat. Get the goods, hon. I've got to talk to someone and it might as well be you. Servants are bound to secrecy, aren't they?"

"Yes, of course." Well, my own cook was. I told her everything and now she was writing a book.

After Rocco had settled into the big stuffed chair in my quarters I poured two brandies.

"You didn't even warm the snifter," he whined.

"How very rude of me! If you like I'll drink that for you."

He clammed up.

"So?"

His face read like a telephone directory. "She's thinking of changing her will. He'll inherit it all. Even this house. I'll have nothing but a small trust that she's setting aside. She says it's enough for me to live well."

"You were her heir then, I assume."

"I was the sole heir."

"That's brutal." Not much to laugh about there. "But you must have known things would change one day. When she got married."

He nodded. "I just didn't think they'd change so much. I thought she'd at least leave me half. And the house. I'm like a brother to her." Tears welled in his turquoise eyes.

"For what it's worth, Rocco, I'm not a big fan of Antonio's either. Victoria can do better."

He eyed me suspiciously. "Why do I sometimes feel like you're an imposter?"

"Possibly because I am. But right now we're going to focus on you. We're going to conspire. We're going to plot. And together we'll come up with a foolproof plan".

Rocco perked up. "Conspiring with the cook? What a concept! I've never done that before."

Log Book, December 17, Eleven p.m.

Bughugger deposed. Dirt Flyer/Outworlder soon in control of Her Imperial Travesty and all resources. BH and Black Nerf must burn sky to thwart Invasion of the Clanker. Is he Dianoga, hiding in the garbage compactor of Death Star? Or, is he yet another of Darth Vader's sons? Darth, you horny bastard! 

# Chapter Twelve

The email zipped in at 11:09 p.m.

'Antonio Pereira Silva is known to Brazilian police. Gigolo to a sequence of wealthy older women he finally married Maria Isabell Sanchez on May 12, 2015. Shortly thereafter Maria vanished, never to be seen or heard from again. (It is important to note that her will was changed after the marriage and that Antonio was the sole heir. Her three children received nothing.) Three times Sr. Silva was brought in for questioning by police and passed a lie detector test on the forth. While police believe him to be the prime suspect there is no concrete evidence to that effect. Still today Maria Isabell's disappearance remains a mystery. Sr. Silva has no criminal record.'

About those boarding school fencing lessons. ' _En garde, Zorro_! _Attaque!'_ Oh, well. So what if I was thrown out of fencing classes for failing to slice through a banana?

Rocco grumbled through our afternoon meeting in the kitchen. "Good try, Sophie. But Victoria doesn't care. She just wants to jump An-toenail's bones. Over and over again."

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her what you told me to say. About the PI report. I took credit for it, of course, or your ass would have been booted to kingdom come. Unfortunately, An-toenails had already told her about it and she believes his side of the story."

"Which is?"

"He's innocent. There's no evidence against him, no charges. Bogus allegations, he says, but no proof. He thinks his wife ran off with her own cousin since they were very close."

"I see. No hope of her changing her mind then?"

"None. Although they're already engaged, the producers want to play that angle up now. They want Antonio to formally propose in front of the cameras. Make a big deal out of it. Get down on one knee etcetera. It's going to look phony."

"What about Michel? Is he to stand there with a gaping mouth? They must have plans for him."

"She didn't say."

"What did she say to the pre-nuptial?"

"Nix. She thinks it might scare him away. She thinks he has more money than she has. He's going to make a new will too, naming her sole heir. No go. Nix. Notta. Notta fucking chance."

"Four days to go and we have nothing."

"And what exactly have you done, dearie? Knitted?"

"Exactly! I've done your job, Rocco. I've emailed the invitations. I've booked caterers that only whacking great bags of money can buy at this time of year. I netted a JP. The entertainment. And ordered the flowers. And fortunately it's Christmastime so the décor has all been done." I turned on him with some authority. "And what exactly is it that you've done, _dearie_?"

"Cried. I've cried my eyes out. Now I'm suicidal."

So much for Sherlock Homes and Watson then, with Watson a quivering mess. "Slit your throat then just don't do it here. Blood makes me sick."

"Have you no pity?"

About that first day on the doorstep... "I'm sorry, Rocco. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that I could use some help with the plans. I asked Suki but she said no."

He finally managed a smile. "I guess I need to lighten up."

"That would be nice. Got any ideas for plan B?"

"Not yet. I'm trying to think of what An-toenails likes. What we could use for bait."

"I was thinking the exact same thing. He likes women, we know that for certain. He attacked me. Right here in this open kitchen, in broad daylight, bloody brazen letch."

"Attacked?"

"Yes. He put his hands on my shoulders and breathed down my neck."

Rocco chortled. "You call that attacked?"

"In some countries it's called that, yes. Where people are civilized."

"Knock it off, Sophie! I was just kidding. We were talking about weaknesses and we came up with women. And don't forget money. Since he's already talking to Victoria about her will."

"Hold on. I'm having a light bulb moment. You're Victoria's social secretary, Rocco. Do you happen to know a woman with our criteria? Beautiful. Wealthy. A woman who just might jump in to save her girlfriend from making a big mistake?"

"I do. Quite a few of them come to mind but one in particular. You won't get her here at this time of year though. Not in the holiday season."

"She doesn't have to be here physically. All I need is communication. I assume you have her email address and mobile."

"Of course. That's my job!"

"You have a job?"

"Do you know what, Sophie? Sometimes you are a pain in the ass."

"Arse. In the UK we say arse, Rocco. Has a nicer ring to it, don't you think?"

"Fuck off!"

Log Book, December 18, Midnight

Is the Republic about to crumble? Not if Black Nerf can help it. Bughugger to busy being a chobbles to assist. The drawfnut! Consulted Madclaw in Galactic Centre today. MC said Dirt Flyer/Outworlder as slippery as a greased Dug. Ditto. Is not 'the Chosen One', for certain. BN is 'the Chosen One'. She just doesn't know it yet.

# Chapter Thirteen

Potsy and Pinto had been into the library cognac when I Skyped late afternoon, ten p.m. in London.

"They don't know Pinto's here yet," Potsy whispered. "They've all gone off to the theatre."

"Then why are you whispering?"

"In case they come home. They're very sneaky, you know, so we may not hear them at all." She tucked a clump of soft grey curls behind her ear.

Pinto was leaning over the back of her chair. "Bonsoir, Sophie. I should imagine you're completely bilingual by now." Oxford-educated James spoke in a soft British accent.

"I learned French in school, Pinto-James. Plus a year in Paris. What about the cameras?"

He shot me his Eddy Murphy smile, all teeth. "Planted. All over your lovely home. The technician will be there tomorrow to set up the computer in your Toronto quarters. You'll be able to see it all. Satellite has its advantages."

"Perfect. Perfect timing since the place will be filled with people bushing about, setting up for the wedding. I can hardly wait. And the time difference will work in my favor for a change. Cocktail time at seven in London is just two here. Afternoons are quiet so I'll be able to watch the show. Eek! I can hardly wait."

I had a bit of time to kill before my employer expected her carrot sticks so I weaved a trail of __ cat treats __ from the island to the front foyer and out through the open doors. "Go for it, Suki! (Notice I said Suki, buttering her up.) This is your chance to escape. Escape! Go for it now!"

"I can't believe you, Sophie!" Rocco screeched behind my back. "Trying to trick a cat! She's smarter than that you know."

"Is she now? Then why is she already in the hallway?"

Suki was packing treats into her chipmunk cheeks at Guinness record speed when Rocco shot like a rocket to slam the front door shut.

"I can't believe you!" He was almost crying. "You left the door open! You'd send our poor Suki to her certain death. To that damn ravine! She'd perish out there!"

"Really? Do you think this is the first time I've experimented? She never leaves the front steps. Guaranteed. She stores those treats in her great wide cheeks and when she gets through the door she drops them on the step. She then sits down and eats them for almost an hour. Outdoors. In the fresh air. Under the canopy. Can you imagine that?"

Rocco looked confused. "Why?"

"Because she can. It's called desensitization. I'm curing her agoraphobia."

"You think too much, Sophie. Can you also cure her gluttony?"

"I doubt it. She's obsessed."

He laughed then, just before remembering the reason for his sudden trip to the kitchen. "I have something to tell you, Sophie, but I don't want you to be mean. It's about these diamond cufflinks." He turned his wrist sideways. "Given to me by Vinny. Victoria's dad. For my first hit."

"Hit?"

"Yes. I was a hired killer. An assassin. I thought you knew."

"No I didn't."

"I thought everyone knew."

"Not me."

"Want to hear about it?"

"Not particularly."

He slipped onto a kitchen stool. "Make us a couple of drinks, will you Sophie? I'm in a mood to talk."

When I returned from the pantry with the vodka tonics Rocco eyes iced over. "I was just nineteen. I'd been running with some hoods and thought I was cool. The big deal. So, when they told me about Vinny and how I could get ahead, well I said great. Lead me to him. At the time I wasn't openly gay, by the way. Just a little effeminate with big teeth."

"I thought you were going to say with a big something else."

"Are you going to constantly interrupt me?"

"Yes."

"Sophie!"

"Rocco!"

"This is important to me."

"Shoot, then. And I don't mean me."

"Well, my first hit was a woman. You remind me of her, in a way. Very beautiful. Slender, like you, and with huge sad brown eyes."

"I don't have huge sad brown eyes."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't"

"Do so."

"Do not."

"Do.

"Don't"

"She was standing at the window. Lace curtains on it I remember. And she was brushing her hair. Long dark hair like yours."

"Curly?"

"I can't remember. My job was just to blow her away."

"What had she done? I thought the Mafia respected women."

"They usually do. But this woman had crossed Vinny. She embarrassed him at a party. Didn't laugh at his joke. Everyone else was smart enough to fall to the floor laughing but she just stood there. Aloof. Disinterested. Shrugging. Didn't get it, she said."

"And?"

"Well, you didn't ever do that to Vinny. You laughed at his jokes until you cried because cry was what you'd be doing next when one of his big goons held a magnum to your head. Splat. From here to Alaska. Brains."

Very well. He had me. Girl brushing hair. Rocco with gun. "So?"

"Well, I had no choice. I was being tested for obedience, loyalty and ruthlessness. Two big guys were waiting for me in the car so I had no choice. Surely you understand that, Sophie!"

"Actually not."

"But you could try."

"No, actually. I couldn't. Murder is murder and one is dead a very long time. I don't understand it at all."

"I see. And what if I tell you that I let her go?"

"You'd be lying."

"Yes I would. But it would make you feel better, wouldn't it?"

"This isn't about me. I'm not the one with blood on my hands."

He started to laugh then and to smash his hand on the bar. "I can't believe you fell for that one, hon! I can't believe you bit!"

"Arse! You are a complete arse."

"Murdering arse. Don't forget that!"

"I don't like you much right now."

"Good! Then the news I have for you won't change things much. Jason just called me on my cell. He wants me back! Isn't that the best news ever? Evvvv er?"

I wasn't jumping up and down. "Let me see. Hmm... Is this the Jason that left you to go on a same-sex cruise with four men? Or was it five? If this _is_ the Jason who's coming back to you with his wanker between his legs, well yes, then, that's bloody terrific news, Rocco."

"You're heartless, Sophie."

"Exactly. Was there anything else?"

"Yes. Jason is coming to dinner. Victoria said it's ok so you'll need to plan for him."

"That makes six then."

"Six?"

"Yes. Victoria's friend's sister is also coming. So, there'll be Victoria, Antonio, Michel, you, Jason and Christie."

"That was fast. How did you manage that?"

"Rather ruthlessly I'm afraid."

"Does Victoria know?"

"Yes. I texted her upstairs. She's quite excited, really. She's heard of Christie but has never met her."

His bright blue eyes twinkled like the twenty-foot Christmas tree in the foyer. "Christie? Bianca's sister?"

"Yes. Christie Burlington."

"Has a familiar ring to it. How old?"

"Twenty-five."

"Ouch! Does Victoria know her age?"

"No, she doesn't. And we're not going to tell her either. She just knows that Christie arrived this afternoon. She'll be here for dinner and will stay to attend the wedding since she just happens to be in this part of the world."

Rocco twitched his suspicious nose. "I smell a conspiracy."

Suki emitted the fowl howl of a lone buffalo cat. She didn't like it one bit.

"You see? Suki smells it too."

I smiled. "The good news is that Suki can't talk. She couldn't tattle on us even if she wanted to."

Suki rose up on her great huge paws and roared like a lion.

"Forget it, sister. It's for Victoria's own good."

Rocco screwed up his face. "I doubt Victoria will see it that way."

"Not right away, perhaps. But down the road she will."

"What? After she's bludgeoned us both?"

"Speak for yourself. I'll be long gone. And I doubt Victoria will want to chase after a cook."

"That's where you're wrong, hon. Victoria is starting to like you. To depend on you. A lot."

Shortly before seven Victoria swept into the kitchen in a red Valentino gown.

"Sophie, darling! How do I look?"

"Lovely."

"And?" She twirled around for my approval.

"Elegant. Classy. Regal."

"What! All of that from you? That's so generous of you, Sophie!"

"I understand your guest has arrived."

"She has. She's in her room beautifying herself. I haven't seen her yet but I'm expecting her in the library for cocktails soon."

Antonio strolled into the kitchen and snatched up an appetizer from a tray.

Suki barked.

"She doesn't like me," he whined to Victoria.

"Perhaps she's confused," I snipped. "Perhaps she's confusing you with someone who slapped her in the face with a riding crop. You know how cats are."

Victoria ignored me. "She doesn't know you. She'll come to love you just as I do. Just give her time. Look at the inroads Sophie has made. Suki adores her now."

Suki turned her massive head my way and I swear, I swear on my poor dead gardener's grave, that she raised a thick eyebrow at me. 'Who's she trying to kid?' it implied. So, now Suki-the-Terrible was suddenly a comedian.

"You're a marvel, Sophie!" Antonio drawled in his lazy Latin way. "These tapas are exquisite."

Grrr... Sophie was a marvel, all right.

"Sophie's brilliant!" Victoria said. "I don't know what we'd do without her."

Exactly! I hoped she'd feel that exact same way after the wedding bust. "Jason has arrived." I quickly changed the subject. "He's in the library with Rocco."

Victoria linked arms with Antonio and pulled him away. "Let's go and greet the little slut. He broke Rocco's heart, you know."

Jason, for all the pre-hype, was exactly as Rocco had described; an Asian Eric McCormick. He had dark olive skin, brown eyes with red flecks, and a perfectly straight nose. He was also charming enough to convince numerous young males of similar persuasion to treat him to a Mediterranean cruise. To compete, it now seemed Rocco needed Victoria's money more than ever. The plot thickened.

Enter Christie Burlington, a glamorous dark-haired stunner. She breezed into the kitchen wearing a soft flowing gown of midnight blue, the color of her large round eyes. The dew of youth lay fresh on her full pink cheeks.

"You must be Sophie!"

"And you Christie. Well, for the next few days, at least."

"Yes."

"I trust you received the champagne I sent to your room?"

"I did. I sipped it while getting ready, thanks."

"And are you ready then?"

"Ready."

"No slips?"

"No. I've been emailing all day with Bianca. And I'm a quick study so there shouldn't be a problem. While I'm a stage actress I'm also studying medicine. If the conversation starts to lag I can always turn to anatomy. That usually causes people to jump in and change the subject. Especially at the dinner table."

I smiled. "I feel like a worried mother."

"Don't. I've been hired for more bizarre roles."

"Such as? I'm bored so entertain me, if you will. Everyone here is having fun but me. What was your most bizarre role?"

She thought for a minute. "Well, I was once hired to play a lesbian in a real-life situation. This woman, Laura, wanted a divorce. She was madly in love with her husband's partner who'd been salting money away in Monaco. His money and her husband's money too. The lovebirds planned to escape to Monaco after the divorce and live happily ever after."

"And?" I asked excitedly.

"Her plan was simply to tell her husband that she preferred the opposite sex and would be asking for a divorce."

"Sounds simple enough."

"It does."

"Did they get away with it?"

She shook her lovely head. "They did not. But as for my part, well, I was to be lying naked with Laura in bed, and madly making out, when the husband arrived home at his usual time. And he did. Exactly on time."

"And? And?"

"Well, he caught us, as planned. But he hardly noticed. He had bigger problems it seemed. He said, 'Laura. When you're finished playing with your little friend I have something to tell you.' So, naturally we covered ourselves and sat up. He said, 'I just shot my partner.' His face turned ashen white. 'The bastard was stealing from me. He took everything I had. And do you want to know the worst part, Laura? His wife will inherit it all. There's nothing left for you.'

I almost collapsed. "It's Alfred Hitchcock."

"Exactly."

"Did you ever hear from Laura again?"

She flashed her gorgeous grin. "Absolutely. Laura was a very attractive woman and with her husband in jail she was granted a quick divorce. It didn't take her long to find another sucker. I had an email from her saying that she had married a wealthy older man and was getting a good settlement in the end, including a yacht. She wouldn't be needing my services."

Well, had I any doubts before about Jeanne playing Christie they were quickly erased. This was exactly the girl I'd ordered. Beauty, brains, and guts.

She said, "If the picture I saw of this man is anything close to his real self, well, this could be the best job ever."

"He is beautiful, Jeanne. And dangerous. Keep that in mind, luv. I'm not sure what he's up to but I can assure you it isn't good. Stay focused."

She nodded.

"Keep the dinner conversation on money. Big money. Yachts. Texas Oil. Family villas. Etc."

"I've got it."

"Good. You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

"Go get 'em, tiger."

Log Book, December 19. Seven p.m.

Dark greetings. Orbital space colony invaded by alien presence. Rimmer alien, Shiny boy – as smooth as the surface of a neutron star – wants to reclaim Bughugger, who is Nova-happy and a total sitting Mynock. Pure alien, Princess Yum Yum, a youngling, has also appeared, but is not real. Image stored in mechanical and appears only when he is rubbed. Holy beek-monkeys!

# Chapter Fourteen

Cameras rolled. And while engaged in the process of eavesdropping from behind my favorite pillar I heard Antonio say,

"Beautiful Victoria. You are the woman of my dreams and I love you with all my heart."

Michel jumped in. "I love you with all my heart too, Victoria."

Dead silence. Where did that come from? The producer, Roman, with a furrowed brow of corrugated cardboard, stepped out into the hallway to pace. I moved into the open just in time to see Antonio pluck a blue Tiffany box from his pocket. Springing it open he dropped to one knee. "Victoria? Will you do me the great honor of marrying me?"

On the other side of Victoria, Michel also produced a blue velvet box. "Not so fast, Antonio. That's rather a pathetic ring if you ask me. I can do better." In Michel's box sat a diamond the size of a ping pong ball. A familiar diamond, I had to admit. Mine. From Pinto, but that's another story. In this story the diamond would play to a new audience.

Victoria gasped at the sight of the boulder. "My god! It's huge! Is it even real?"

"Very real," Michel bragged. "From the diamond mines of Nigeria."

Victoria was speechless as she lovingly fingered the gem.

Antonio's upper lip curled into a snarl. "How tacky! Victoria wouldn't be caught dead wearing that monstrosity."

"Dead?" Michel nodded his gorgeous head. "Dead? I understand you know quite a lot about dead women, Antonio."

Oops! Where did that come from? My big mouth? The rehearsal in the kitchen the night before had gone something like this:

Michel: What if she wants my rock badly enough to choose me? Then what?

Sophie: You're pretty much screwed. But the show will have great ratings.

But back in the dining room, Roman was storming. "What are you doing, Michel? Trying to ruin the show? These two are supposed to get engaged tonight."

The cameras were rolling.

Michel snickered. "They're already engaged. I'm just trying to break it up."

"You need to read your contract, sir. You're in violation of several clauses."

"Really! You're scaring me now, Roman. What are you going to do? Kick me off the show? Or sue. That would be fun. Give me something to think about besides oil wells and tankers." Then to Victoria. "What do you think, Victoria? Would you like to accept this ring?"

She nodded. "I love the ring. And I'd really like to keep it. Except that I'm in love with Antonio. It wouldn't be fair."

Antonio smacked his chops. "Guess you've been demoted to best man, Michel."

Michel snickered. "You said it, I didn't. I clearly am the best man."

With the cameras finally gone, and ratings about to break all reality show ratings, Jason said, "I think we should go away together, Rocco. To celebrate our getting back together. A villa on the Rivera, maybe. Somewhere warm. Even a Greek island. What do you think?"

I liked the word 'we'. It implied that Jason had a quid to his name which naturally he didn't.

But Captain Oblivious was too caught up in the moment to care. "It would be my treat! My Christmas present to you Jay!"

Jay nodded his splendid dark head in approval. Life was _so_ easy for him.

Victoria, having just given up a gazillion dollar diamond, had fallen into a sulk. "If you can afford to take that harlot on a trip I'm obviously paying you too much, Rocco."

Nervous shifting in chairs caused creaking like an old rusty door. An awkward silence loomed before Christie seized the moment.

"I have an idea! Rocco, why don't you and Jason join me on my yacht for New Year's? There'll be dozens of us partying all the way. We're going to do the Islands. You know, Barbados, St. Lucia, St. Kitts, Nevis..." She sounded bored, as though it had all been done before.

Rocco, knowing full well that no such yacht existed, at least not one belonging to fake Christie, looked stunned. "I'll give it a thought. On my way to Timbuktu."

Jason thought otherwise. "That's a wonderful idea, Christie! We'd be delighted to accept!"

Rocco tossed Christie a filthy look. 'Stick to the plan,' it said. 'What are you trying to do to me here?'

Antonio sat forward on his beautiful arse. "Tell me about this yacht, Christie."

She did. For the next boring ten minutes she dazzled Antonio with Yacht facts. She'd done her homework and while she didn't actually call it _The Royal Yacht Britannia_ she'd studied up on the grand old boat: the length overall, maximum breadth, gross tonnage, shaft horsepower, etc.

I slipped back to moor behind the fat white pillar. What a night! Shakespeare eat your heart out.

"Sleeping for forty, you say?" Antonio said excitedly.

"Yes. Minimum."

"I've been on her family's yacht with her sister," Victoria added. "It's huge."

"And you've yet to fill your roster for this cruise?"

"Right." I pictured her shaking her long dark hair. "But there'll likely be more takers before we shove off."

In a shrill voice Victoria said, "Shove off? I've always liked that expression. In fact, certain people at this table could shove right off and would not be missed."

Michel coughed into his napkin. "Sorry. It's rude of me I know but I can't remember when I've had such an entertaining evening. Am I invited too? Since I'm going to be the best man and all."

Victoria was not amused. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I apologize profusely. I should have said _never_. They would _never_ be missed."

Chairs creaked. Or was that Antonio's brain? "What would you say to Victoria and I joining you on this cruise, Christie? Might you possibly have room for us too?"

"Make that three," Michel chimed in. "You can't leave the best man out." He couldn't stop giggling.

Victoria barked, "You don't think I've got enough on my plate here, Michel? I don't need your ridicule. What about our trip to your ranch in Brazil, Antonio? Where did that go? Or am I being maturely curious?"

"Victoria, darling! That will always be available to us. We can go there anytime. I just thought a cruise might be refreshing. Terrific fun."

"Well, you thought wrong. A New Year's cruise with a bunch of teenagers isn't exactly thrilling to me, you understand. We've planned to go to Brazil on our honeymoon and that's where we'll be going. End of story."

It wasn't though. I poked my head around the pillar just in time to see Antonio toss Christie a 'poor pathetic me' shrug and she tossed flirtingly back.

Victoria pushed back her chair. "I don't know what game you're playing here, little Christie. But I think it's time you grew up." With that she hopped to her feet and thumped across the floor. "And Sophie? You can come out now. The show is over."

Michel sauntered into the kitchen for a midnight farewell. "That was great fun, Sophie. We had them going for a while."

I giggled. "She thought about it. I could see the dollar signs flashing in her eyes. She wanted that diamond. She wanted to flash it in front of her snobby friends."

He tossed the blue box on the countertop. "It's a beauty. I can't believe you turned it down."

"It's still on the table. Although I gave it back I'm starting to like it again. Maybe as a doorstop."

"I'm going to miss you, Sophie. In a strange way it was like home here. I operated my businesses from my posh upstairs suite and didn't miss a beat. The plus, of course, is that I got to spend time with you. With Sophie the fraudulent cook." He ogled me.

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm improving. You think so don't you, Suki? You even lick the porridge pot now."

Suki reared her ugly head and roared.

Michel giggled. "I'll even miss that strange huge cat. As will you, I presume. Are you off soon?"

I nodded. "Very soon. Right after the wedding. I promised Victoria to stay until then but I don't know why. If I had my way I'd walk out that door right now."

"Then why don't you?"

"It's complicated."

"As complicated as being a British heiress?"

I sighed. "I figured. I figured you'd look me up."

"You're all over the Internet. The tabloids etc. It should be as simple as doing exactly what you want to do. Walk out that door."

"There was a time when I might have done just that. Before I grew up."

"I see. You're in a bind then."

"Of sorts. Things are about to unravel at my house and with technology I can handle things from here. At the same time I can be of service to my new friends. You likely won't understand this but I lost my friends back home. They sided with my husband and his girl and were thrilled when the tabloids made mincemeat out of me. Poor little rich girl. Unceremoniously chucked."

"They weren't your friends then."

"Perhaps not. But now I have friends just as weird as I am. Imagine that!"

Michel laughed all the way to the front doors where he turned back to me. "I suppose this is goodbye then. For now. But rest assured I'll be in touch. I'm not giving up on you just yet." With that he sauntered out the door.

# Chapter Fourteen

A huge, flat-screened computer was now hogging my suite. And while getting dressed the following morning I could clearly see Potsy milling about my kitchen, polishing things. Napoleon came into view. He was a large puffy man with Aladdin's genie qualities.

"I'd like a special coffee madam. Organic Ethiopian, naturally. I love those robust flavors of orange and nectars."

Miles across the Atlantic I saw the glint in Potsy's eye. "Of course. Why don't you read your paper and I'll prepare lunch?" As Napoleon disappeared she pulled the garbage bin from the pantry and loaded the coffee pot up with coffee grounds, orange peels and a dirty dishrag. As for Napoleon's lunch, well, you don't really want to know unless you happen to be a biologist with an interest in fungus.

I smiled my way to the kitchen where Rocco met me in a panic. "Suki's gone! She's nowhere to be seen! I've looked everywhere. Have you seen her, Sophie? Please tell me that you've seen her!"

I couldn't. "She was here last night, Rocco. When Michel came to say goodbye to us. She was right here on the counter and was still there when I went to bed."

"You're sure? No tricking her to the door with cat treats?"

"No. Certainly not. That was just a game. You know I'd never put her in harm's way."

He nodded. "I know, sunshine. You love her just as we do. But where do you think she went?"

I didn't have to think about it. "She wouldn't have gone anywhere by herself. She's agoraphobic. Afraid of open spaces. Someone would have to capture her to get her out of here. And she would have put up a fight."

Oh. Oh. Tuffs of cat hair here and there. Rocco fell to pieces. "It's just not the right time for this! Victoria's wedding. Jay coming back to me. I don't know why this had to happen now." He choked back a sob.

Round up the usual suspects. Not being a detective I could only think of one. "You've combed the premises I presume?"

"Every bloody person in the place has been looking. She's nowhere to be seen."

"And the grounds?"

"Chauffeur's out there now. He's combing the gardens but like you said she wouldn't be out there alone. She's a housecat. A squirrel could eat her."

Good luck on that one. "We need to have someone pound the phones. I would but unfortunately Victoria has me knee deep in wedding prep. We need to call every shelter in the GTA nonstop. I think I know who took her but hopefully even he couldn't kill a cat. Can you get on that, cry baby?"

He wiped his tears with his sleeve. "Alright boss. There are about thirty extras in this house right now so I'll corner some. We'll call those SPCA people."

Three days to wedding day and so much left to chance. On the upside, Victoria was ecstatically and blindly in lust. "I can't keep my hands off him!" she confided, after summonsing me to her bedroom suite to help pick out her gown. "He's absolutely gorgeous! I mean, I get weak knees just thinking about him."

I bit my tongue. Locating Cat before Victoria realized she was missing was my preoccupation for the moment.

She held a third red ball gown against her naked body and twirled in front of the mirror. "What do you think, Sophie?"

"I don't suppose you'd consider white? Some women wear it you know."

She shot me a lethal look. "Some women do. But I'm not just some woman. I am Victoria!" Throwing on a bathrobe she twirled her way to the Dom Perignon cooling on ice. "It's ready, Sophie! Let's get started. It's almost nine a.m. and we have to be finished by noon. All three bottles. And maybe a few from the cellar." The woman, I swear, had a hollow arse.

To say that I was plastered by early afternoon is an understatement. I had to lie down on my bed to watch the cocktail hour in London where Pinto was about to make his grand entrance. This ought to be good. As usual, David was leaning against the mantle, warming his backside, while the lovely green-eyed Kasha sat tossing her auburn hair. Both had drinks in hand. My sitting room! My beautiful sitting room with my antique furniture and Renaissance art went spinning around and around. Damn champagne! My Roaring Lion armchairs went spinning by.

Enter puffy Napoleon who headed straight for the bar. No pleasantries. Just a lot of ice and single malt scotch. Soon he'd captured my Queen Anne sofa and raised his feet to a stool. Comfy. Enter Potsy with canapés on a silver tray and a sour look on her face. After laying the tray on a table she exited in a flash. Enter Pinto to a reception of open mouths. Egad!

"Pinto!" David and Kasha screeched in unison.

Pinto looked handsome in his powder-blue pullover and casual tan trousers. "Himself." He walked to the bar where he contemplated the Waterford decanters before choosing to make a martini. He shook the shaker hard.

Napoleon was screwing up his face. What? Two Africans now?

Pinto chose the armchair beside Kasha. "How are you, girl? It's been a while."

She was awestruck. As was David.

"Oh, sorry," he said to Napoleon. "I didn't see you there. I'm Pinto."

Napoleon grunted. "I thought as much. Since that's what they called you."

Pinto smiled. "And you, sir? Do you have a name?"

Napoleon didn't think so.

"Well, Pinto is just a nickname. I'm James, actually. James Wonno. Of the Wonno diamond mines. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

Napoleon gulped.

David finally found his voice. "His name is Bartholomew. It's biblical."

Pinto tried not to laugh. "I'll watch my step then. No swearing."

David was not amused. "What are you doing here, Pinto? I don't recall inviting you." He was shuffling his Bruno Magli loafers and didn't look at all like Jude Law, as everybody said. No, he looked more like Jude Law after a sailing match and windburn.

"You didn't invite me, actually. Sophie did. I'm here as her guest."

David started to pace. "I see. In case you hadn't noticed Sophie isn't here. And until she is you're not welcome in my house. Oh, I know. You have diamond mines. Kasha's told me all about her visit there. But you can't buy your way in here. This is my house and I'll thank you to leave." He pointed to the door.

Pinto crossed his legs. "You really frighten me, David. I'm trembling."

David slammed his drink down on the mantle. "You will be when I remove you from this house. My house."

"You and whose army?"

David plucked his mobile from his pocket. "I'm calling the authorities right now."

"Why don't you do that, David? And why don't you show them the deed to this house with your name on it."

Sputtering. A lot of sputtering. David was fighting for air. "I shall have this house! It shall be mine."

Pinto rose to his feet. "Good luck on that one, old boy. But until such time this house belongs to Sophie from whom you are divorced. I'll be seeing you around." With that he strode from the room twirling the gin in his glass.

After recovering from a nap/hibernation I emerged in the kitchen bruised. Damn Victoria. It was almost cocktail time and I had nothing prepared. The foil containers from Sarah were stacked on the countertop needing to be warmed. Ouch! I rescued the vegetables and melon from the cooler and popped the frozen canapés in the oven. Done. Robotically. I wanted to cry.

Rocco came rushing in screaming and waving his phone. "They found her Sophie! They found her safe and sound. See? Here's her beautiful face." He pressed his cell to my nose.

"Where did they find her?"

"Pickering! Can you believe it? They found her miles from home."

"How did she get there?"

"In a cab. Can you believe it? Suki called a cab."

"Right. Funny."

"Alright, then. She was sent in a cab in her cage. It was missing from the storage room this morning."

"I see. So why don't you have chauffeur take you to collect her?"

He shook his head. "Cannot do. No way am I leaving Jay to that Christie of yours who's been all over him since she arrived. I swear she's trying to turn him. And when she's not batting her eyes at him she's shamelessly flirting with An-toenails. She wants them both. No, hon. You'll have to collect Suki. You're dispensable. I'm not."

"And who will serve dinner?"

He scratched his chin. "Hmm... Let me think. About seventeen maids as I see it. Most who do nothing here at all. You'll be replaced faster than a roll of toilet paper."

"Ta Rocco. And what will you tell Victoria about her precious cat?"

"Already taken care of, hon. I told her earlier that Suki is at the vet for her annual check-up. Enjoy your trip to Pickering!" He wiggled his way out of the room.

Pickering. Fantastic! I transferred the caterer's meal into Victoria's dishes and placed dinner in the warming oven before heading for the garage.

I retired early with a smile on my face caused by Suki, who, at the animal shelter, took one great leap from the countertop and landed in my arms. She snored all the way home on my lap. Cats. Who needed them? I was about to turn the monitor off when something caught my eye. Suitcases. In the front entry. At 4 a.m. London-time. Soon Napoleon appeared, gathered his luggage together, and slipped through the open doors. Score! One down.

The following morning I was greeted in the kitchen by Suki, showing off. I grabbed a pen and notebook from a drawer. _Aware of cat sitting back on hind legs, front paws in air, fanning. Aware of cat rising on her huge back haunches to full height and twisting clumsily around. (Not ballerina but trying.) Aware of cat hopping like jackrabbit. Hop. Hop. Hop. Plop. Aware of cat hitting floor with a thud and slinking to pantry to soothe hurt feelings. Humiliation_. I knew it well.

Just then Asian Eric McCormack nonchalantly strolled in. He was looking very Armani in a navy pinstriped suit.

"Off to church, are we?"

He shook his handsome head. "Lawyers. Apparently I've inherited something from somebody and I want to look deserving."

"That you do, Jason. Is it a lot, do you think? Or just a little."

"Don't know. They didn't say. Has something to do with those kids I rescued from the fire. Their grandfather's will. Apparently he's included me." He walked to the island to talk to Suki who'd shot her fat body back to her customary perch. "How are you girl?" He patted her on the head.

"I'm not sure I'd do that, Jason. She's not the most sociable of cats."

Suki meowed like a kitten.

"Have you been missing me, Suki? Because I've been missing you."

She threw her great thick head back and howled with pleasure. She'd been missing him, all right.

Jay turned to me. "We're old friends, Suki and I. I've known her since she was a kitten."

"I can see that. But it's hard to imagine. Suki as a kitten, I mean. What was she like?"

"The exact same. Only slightly smaller. She was big for her age."

I smiled. "I can picture her, actually. Suki only slightly smaller. Coffee?"

"Please." He sat his handsome self down at the island. "I'm not all bad, you know. Victoria will never forgive me for dumping Rocco but I'm not all bad."

"I can see that, really. If Suki likes you, you're either a great actor or not all bad."

He looked boyish sitting there all dressed up in his father's suit. "It's just that I had had it with Rocco. After eight years of his controlling ways I couldn't stand another minute."

"What? Rocco controlling? I don't believe it! Not for a minute."

Jay's turn to laugh. "He has lots of good points though. Too bad they're all on the top of his head."

"That's not fair. Rocco's not here to defend himself."

"Defend? Rocco couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag."

"Enough!"

"Alright, already."

"He must have something special though because you've come back."

His round brown eyes were openly flirting with me. "Back? What am I, the bad penny?"

"I sincerely hope not."

Shortly after Jason departed Antonio came striding in, riding crop in hand. He turned pale.

"Seen a ghost, Antonio?"

Apparently, the cat had got his tongue.

"Yes. Suki is back. She took a cab ride home."

Still nothing.

"And she'd like to thank you for the nice trip. She doesn't get out that much."

Finally, a squeaky voice. "You think you're funny don't you, Sophie? So very funny. But just know this. That was just a warning. The next time your horrid cat will not be coming home."

"I see. Threats then."

"More. Promises."

"Yes, well. It's Victoria you'll have to deal with. That horrid cat belongs to her. You'd actually be doing me a favor by removing the cat hair from my kitchen."

Stalemate.

"You'd be wise not to push me, Sophie. I don't respond kindly to being pushed."

I drew myself to my full 1.63 metres. "You don't frighten me, Antonio. I know who you are. You may have Victoria fooled but you don't fool me one bit. You are a coward who would harm a defenseless cat."

Oh, oh. Whap! went the riding crop on the granite countertop. "We'll see about that, you insolent little nobody. We'll see about that." Sparks flew from his heels as he screeched from the room.

Revolving door for Sophie's kitchen it seemed, although it didn't have doors. Soon Victoria was moored at the island sipping her mid-morning Caesar and riffling through papers. She looked regal in her red silk pajamas and with her blond hair twisted into a knot. In front of her, Suki was purring like a cat, which she wasn't at all.

"So many details," Victoria droned. "They're coming today to turn the living room into a chapel. It sounds confusing to me."

"It's just a wedding. You'll be doing this again in a year."

"I'd better not be!" She returned to the task of shuffling papers. "It's that little Christie I don't trust. She's after Antonio. And she isn't hiding the fact either. If it weren't for Bianca I'd throw her out on the street. But Bianca's a big deal on the social circuit and I can't afford to offend her." Her eyes iced over and she tossed her pen in the air. "It's tempting though. The next time little Christie looks at Antonio with those big cow eyes, well, I just might smash her face."

Oh, oh. "I can't believe you, Victoria! Someone with your class and charisma worrying about a little thing like Christie. While she's beautiful so are you. And you have all those other attributes that Christie has yet to grow into. Class. Sophistication. Breeding. Antonio is never going to abandon you for her."

Victoria lifted her chin. "Do you know what, Sophie? I think you're right."

"Dead right." I lied through my eyeteeth. "And I think that's worth another Caesar. For us both."

"I second the motion. But please put some vodka in it this time. That virgin stuff is for wimps."

Not long after Victoria vacated the kitchen, fake Christie sneaked in. "Coast clear?" she whispered. She looked amazing in a deep blue lounging suit and high-heeled silver sandals.

"Clear. It's great to see you. I've been waiting for a progress report."

She smiled like a crescent moon. "He sneaked down to the library last night after Victoria was asleep. We had quite a little chat."

"What did he say?"

"Well, not that much at first because Rocco and Jay were there. But he was drooling. He has the hots for me, for sure."

"And?"

"Well, after Rocco and Jay went upstairs he moved to the sofa beside me."

"And? And?"

"He kissed me. He took me in his arms and kissed me like I've never been kissed before."

"I warned you. I told you he was dangerous."

She nodded. "He is dangerous. I had to pinch myself to remember who I was."

"Jeanne!"

"Alright! Alright. I'm ok. Nose to the grindstone today."

"How did you leave things?"

"Tenderly. He's wanting to come on my yacht now. He just doesn't know how to tell Victoria."

"What did you say to that?

"I told him not to say anything at all. That she'd know soon enough after he'd gone."

"Perfect! You're back on script."

"Not willingly."

Rocco had the best news of the day, according to him. He came cartwheeling into the kitchen like an exuberant cheerleader, crashing into himself. Suki made a mad leap for the pantry.

"You've scared my cat!"

"Right. Your cat. I wouldn't say that too loudly if I were you. Victoria is still connected to the mob."

"I see. Your mob. The one where you worked as a hired killer of women. That mob, is it?"

"Don't push it, Sophie. There are things you don't know."

"Nor do I care to, actually. Is there anything new?"

"Yes!" he squealed, jumping up and down. "Yes! Jay has inherited money and he wants to look after me. It doesn't matter about Victoria's money anymore. Jay will take care of me now."

I wanted to say that Jay was about as authentic as orphan paper. "That's bloody terrific news, Rocco."

"It gets better! We're getting married. In Las Vegas. On New Year's Eve."

"So... Let me see. Jason doesn't want to go on the cruise now?"

"No! He wants to marry me instead!"

"You didn't tell him the truth about Christie, did you?"

"I'm in love. Not crazy. I still want An-toenails gone."

"Congratulations, then."

"It's drink time, Sophie. Vodka. Neat. And make one for yourself."

This was the absolute best job ever, celebrating anything and everything, night and day. And the cook got to drink to help ease the residents' guilt.

"Oh, and Sophie?"

"Yes, Rocco. You have the word favour in your voice."

"There'll be one more guest for dinner tonight. Greased Down Eddie is coming. He always comes one night for dinner when Victoria is here."

"Greased Down Eddie?" I said astonished. "He must be a hundred!"

"One hundred and two. But he still does yoga in the morning and drinks whiskey every night. Quite a lot of it, actually, as you Brits say. A lot of whiskey, actually," he mimicked in a pathetic English accent.

"Is he not coming to the wedding?"

"No. Eddie keeps a low profile. He still has enemies."

"Of course, he does! Centenarians. Shaky gun is what I say. What is it that he likes to eat, do you happen to know?"

"Still has his own teeth. He can eat anything anyone else can. Just don't insult him by giving him puree. Or fish. He hates fish."

"What about chicken?"

"No chicken. He says it tastes like feathers."

"How would he know that? Has he ever eaten feathers?"

Rocco shook his head. "You're such a mouth, Sophie! Just cook him a steak. A great big fat juicy steak and no fancy stuff in wine. It'll give him diarrhea."

"Make sure to ask him about Sally McGinty, then. I'm dying to hear the story."

"Is that a caveat?"

"Absolutely. No story no steak."

"You realize I've heard it a hundred times."

"I realize. But humour me, please. The accidental tourist needs a little entertainment before going home."

Rocco's eyes grew wide. "Home? You can't be serious! We need you here, Sophie! You're our brick!"

"I see. Victoria will be off with Antonio to Brazil and you'll be away with Jason to god knows where. Exactly whose brick am I going to be? Suki's?"

"I'll speak to Victoria about a raise in pay."

I shook my head. "Don't. It's over for me here."

Cocktail time in London in the library where Pinto had beaten the others to the punch. No pun intended. He was standing by the bar cart when the prospective parents arrived. "Your pleasure, Kasha?"

"The doctor said I could have wine," she said in her think Slavic accent.

David shrugged. "I don't recall him telling you that, Kash."

"That's because you never listen." She shook her long cinnamon-colored hair. "Unless it's about you."

"She'll have a white wine, Pinto. But I'll pour it."

"Not at all, David. You are my guests and will be properly looked after. Scotch, if I remember correctly. Neat."

David looked confused.

Kasha took his arm. "Let's just enjoy being looked after. That damn Bartholomew thought he was a king. He treated us like servants." She led him to the stuffed floral sofa near the fire. "Let's just enjoy the evening."

David chewed his downturned mouth. "This is not Pinto's house. This house is mine."

"Why don't we let him play host for a while and do all the work? Let's make him wait on us hand and foot."

I thought David might cry. "It's not his house."

Pinto served the drinks on a silver tray. "I'm so glad the two of you could join me. It's lonely dining by myself. I've asked Madam Potsy to prepare her specialty. Chicken a l'orange."

David cheered up a bit, I think. "I asked her to make it for us but she flatly refused."

Pinto plunked down in the matching stuffed chair. "I have a way with cooks. I have several of my own."

David's scotch came up through his nose."

After rifling through my closet I finally decided on an indecent short black skirt and the sparkly strapless top I'd purchased for a costume ball. Done. Slutty. I freed my hair from its diamond clip and shook my head. "Eddie," I said on my way to the kitchen. "You are one gorgeous hunk of a man. Even at one-hundred-two. Soon I'll be Anna Nicole Smith and seducing an old bloke with diarrhea.

Rocco stopped, dropped and rolled on the travertine floor. "Daisy Mae? Or is it Daisy Duke?" He couldn't stop grinning. "Running out of clothes, are we? You must be freezing to death."

"I thought he'd like the outfit. Greased Down Eddie would."

"Oh, he'll like it, alright! You'll give him a heart attack. The guy has got one foot in the grave, remember. No need to give him a boner he can't do anything about."

"I suppose I should change then. Maybe into a uniform."

He shook his head. "To be honest, hon? You're hot. Dynamite. The greatest thing to happen to this house in a long time. Stay as sexy as you are, is what I say. And blow the man out of his chair."

All right, then. How to broil a steak. I headed for the garage to con Chauffeur into the deal. "I'll bonk your flipping' brains out. I'll do things you've never even fanaticized about."

With soft cloth in hand, Chauffeur was polishing the Rolls. "Now let me see," he mumbled above his three chins. "You've practically raided me of weed. Saying you'd pay me later with sex. But later never comes. I'd say that's robbery."

"What? Robbery? I thought you enjoyed my company."

He snorted. "Company? Since when have you spent more than five friggin' minutes with me, Sophie? Not since the film crew left. 'Have to ring up home', is what you always say. So, this is what I say. Go ring up friggin' home."

Gosh. That wasn't very nice. "I guess I haven't been that friendly," I said to the indignant chauffeur's back. "I'm sorry. I haven't been my old self."

He turned to me, his chubby tummy peaking though his shirt. "And your new self would be?"

I batted my eyelashes. "Friendlier. Nicer. I can be really nice, actually. Everybody says so."

He nodded. "Ok, Sophie. You need me to grill steaks for you. And then you promise to fuck my brains out? Is this the deal?"

"Absolutely!"

Pressing a button to open the garage doors he turned the barbecue on. "I'll miss your lies when you leave."

It was to be yet another day of surprises. Shortly after six p.m. Victoria drifted into the kitchen looking fabulous in a red shift dress, mid-thigh length. "Auditioning for Wonder Woman, are you, Sophie?"

I smiled. "I'm competing for Eddie's attention. Do you think he'll notice me?"

"He'll notice, alright. We'll be calling an ambulance for him. Eddie is a letch."

"At a hundred and two?"

"He's Italian. What can I say?"

She put her arm around me. "I need Annie to set an extra place at the table, Sophie. There'll be Antonio, Jay, Rocco, Christie, Eddie and, of course, me. There'll be seven altogether."

"That's only six."

"And one for yourself. Annie can serve tonight. I'm just tired of you lurking behind that damn pillar to eavesdrop. It doesn't seem fair to me. Your being left out when you seem so very interested in all of us."

"Rocco told you that I'll be leaving soon, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. But that's a little unfair. My invitation is sincere. It has nothing to do with your dumping us."

At the table I was seated between Rocco and Christie and directly across the table from the honoured guest, a handsome man with a fantastic head of white hair. He was dressed to the nines – expensive suit, shirt and tie, and liquored up from the cocktail hour he was keenly interested in the one woman he had yet to accost.

"Bella," he said in his raspy godfather voice. "You are so beautiful! Beautiful brown eyes and such thick hair. You must be Italiano."

Rocco elbowed me. "Say yes."

I nodded politely. "Well yes. I think a distant grandmother."

Eddie laughed. "You're passing the test. Non si parla italiano, bella?"

"Un poco."

"Volete dormire con me?"

Rocco leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Say Va' a farti fottere! Eddie."

So I said it and poor old Eddie almost fell off his chair.

Victoria giggled. "You know what you just said, Sophie?"

"Not entirely."

"I thought not. You just told Greased Down Eddie to fuck off."

I turned to Rocco. "Thanks a lot."

"I did you a favor. Eddie loves foul mouthed girls."

And he did, actually. After that he hardly left me alone. He absolutely loved my British-Italian accent. And had he been younger we might have made beautiful children together, some war-minded like the British and others, like the Italians, wanting just to make love.

Over dessert I said, "Victoria tells us there's a story about Sally McGinty."

"That's a library story," said Victoria. "And yes, Sophie, of course you're invited."

With that, we all headed for the brandy, Eddie leading the way. "I want to sit beside beautiful Sophie," he said.

Victoria pulled a skinny chair next to Eddy. "And you shall. She's mad about you too, Eddie. I can tell." She winked at me. It was only then I realized how very much Victoria adored this man.

Greased Down Eddie was drooling on my shoulder. "Bella. Sally McGinty was a lot like you."

"Lo sono lusingato," I said, and shot Rocco a look. He laughed.

Victoria turned to Antonio on her right. "She said that she's flattered."

"He's my idol," Antonio said. "I want to be just like him when I'm one hundred two."

"You'll have to improve in bed," she said and everybody laughed, except Antonio whose face turned red.

Rocco to the rescue. "I didn't know you'd slept with Eddie, Victoria. Slut!"

The laughter brought even Antonio around. "Tell us the story, Eddie, please."

Christie looked brilliant in a soft pink frock. "We've been dying to hear it."

Eddie pinched my thigh. "Ok. It was a while back."

No kidding. The man pinched hard.

"I arrived here from Sicily to spend time with my associate, Vinny, Victoria's grandfather."

"Be honest," Victoria said. "These people aren't sissies. They can handle the truth. You came to Canada because?"

"I had a shrew for a wife and a not much better broad on the side."

"And?"

"I had bumped off a few guys and needed to take a hike. Are you satisfied, Vicky?"

Her cobalt eyes smiled. "If that's the best you can do."

"So, whatdaya want from me, Vicky? I rubbed out a don, ok? A Godfather. I was a wanted guy."

"That's better. Now tell them the rest of the story."

He pinched me again and I slapped his hand. "One is for free and the rest you'll pay for, Eddy. Do that again and I'll kick lei nelle sfere." So, I knew a little Italian. Very little.

"She'll kick him in the balls," Rocco told Jay. "She may be little but she's tough."

Antonio didn't crack a smile.

"So, I came here for reasons of health," said Eddie, his eyes growing distant. "Good news and bad. I had to leave everything I knew and loved, which is the bad. The good is that I got to escape a nagging wife whose legs were sewn together and a prostituta who was naming her bambino after me."

"Rascal!" I chimed.

He pinched me again. "You are my one true love."

Victoria was fed up. "Stop it! You're being vulgar now, Eddie. She just wants to hear the damn story."

With that he nodded off for a few seconds then suddenly emerged renewed. "I tell you, there was no broad like Sally McGinty and there'll never be again." He patted me on the head, a proper place for his hand. "Except for Bella, here. Who is a close second."

Victoria yawned. "We're falling asleep. Tell us about Hardly Tony."

"What? That punk? There's nothing to tell. His name says it all. He got it because he hardly ever did what he said he was going to do."

Laugher.

He coughed. "Anyway, Hardly was engaged to Sally when I came along. But despite this engagement I went after this broad Sally in a bad way. I couldn't help myself. It was the sexy way she walked, I think, or that cocky attitude. Or, maybe the dark hair which she wore short and swishy, if you know what I mean. I just had to have her. I could see that she liked me too but there was a wedding about to happen and I was a little too late." His soft brown eyes watered and he gave a little cough.

"There were obstacles," Victoria added.

"Oh, there's always obstacles," said Eddie. "You just have to get around them. You see Hardly Tony was Vinny Senior's cousin. From Buffalo. So, on the social order I ranked above him, coming from Sicily. I was like royalty and if not for his family ties, Hardly was scruff. I couldn't see what Sally saw in him at all. Anyway, about the obstacles. I could not bump off this guy or Vinny is going after me, big time. I can't even threaten him. He can't just disappear because I've made too big a fuss over Sally so Vinny would suspect me right away. I was in a predicament, if you know what I mean. Wanting a woman so bad I could taste it and not being able to have her."

Victoria laughed her rich sexy laugh. "So?"

"So, I meet with Vinny. I tell him there is a big deal at home in Palermo City which he already knows about. Protection money. Pizzu. I tell him there are new ways and that he should send someone to learn. I generously suggest that he sends Hardly Tony who doesn't seem to have a lot to do. Vinny says that Hardy is too slow in the head so I then suggest that I take him under my wing. I will go to Sicily with Hardly Tony."

"You're a wanted man in Sicily."

"I'll take my chances. Our family outnumbers the Casaffos three to one."

"So, Vinny finally agrees," Victoria adds.

"Vinny agrees. Two weeks before the wedding Hardly and I fly off to Palermo where we are met by some guys who basically show us a good time for two or three days. Food, wine and women. And when it's time to go home poor Hardly is suddenly without a passport. Hardly is stuck."

"I don't believe you, Eddie!" Antonio said. "You sucker punched the guy."

"Believe it," said Eddie, flashing a very broad smile. "Duck soup. And since a wedding was in the works we simply substituted the groom. And Sally McGinty was worth every spec of the trouble, I have to say. She's the mother of my four boys."

"And tell them what happened to Hardly Tony," Victoria urged.

Eddie chuckled. "Well, Hardly didn't go empty handed. He worked his way up in the family over there and ended up marrying my first wife. The shrew. Fair exchange, I figured.

In the foyer saying good night Eddy stood between Victoria and me. "Bella Sophie is a true blood. You can tell by the nice brown eyes. Blue-eyed Victoria here is a mutt."

She gave him a big hug.

Wedding eve day. The house was abuzz with people coming and going, furniture, linens and flowers arriving, and chaos in general. Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sophie was bored. "Two more days," I told Suki in a baby voice. "Two more days and I'll be rid of your huge ugly head."

She closed her eyes.

I waved the packet of cat treats in front of her nose. "You won't be getting these after I'm gone. The new cook won't spoil you like I do."

Nothing.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" I opened the pack and held it under her nose.

That did it. With one great swat of the paw she nailed the package and sent it sailing through the air. Grrr...! She was off the countertop and onto that package all teeth and fur, treats flying everywhere.

"Serves you right," Rocco scolded. "That's what you get for tormenting a cat. A poor innocent cat."

"Innocent, is she? I wouldn't get in her way if I were you. She's like a dog with a bone where her treats are concerned."

"You need help, Sophie. You need to see a professional."

Suki was sucking in her treats like a vacuum cleaner, barely chewing at all.

Rocco shook his head. "She's being a pig. You're turning her into a pig."

"You mean she wasn't a pig before I came along?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe just a little pig. Not a huge sow."

I changed the subject. "Still getting married, are we?"

"Last I heard. But I'm not happy."

"What's the matter?" I asked like a person needing to hear a sob story.

"Almost everything. We were in the library last night having a nightcap. Jay and I. And we were discussing the wedding. About what we should wear and all. And your little Christie came barging in like she owned the place. She started talking to Jay, like I wasn't even in the room. She was flirting with him, the tart. And he was flirting back. It was shameful, that's what it was. Shameful." A tear crept into his eye. "And then Antonio came downstairs and she started to flirt with him." He squinted accusingly at me. "I'm completely sick of her. Sick to death. I can't wait to get her out of this house."

"I see. So, you don't want Victoria's money then."

"I didn't say that."

"You and Jay don't want to return here from your globe-trotting adventures then?"

He shot his nose into the air like a beagle. "I didn't say that either. One can't have too much money, it seems."

"It seems."

"She kept it up, you know. She was sucking them both in like a carp."

"You felt left out."

"Completely!"

"So?"

"Well, we went upstairs to get ready for bed and Jay was asleep before I got out of the bathroom. Don't you think that's rude?"

"I can't decide whether it's rude or not. I don't actually know the intimate details of your sex life."

"That's not what I meant!" he barked. "It's about intimacy. We could have talked at least. He didn't even bother to say goodnight."

"My husband didn't bother to say goodnight either. Especially near the end when he was sleeping with my chauffeur."

His bright blue eyes went wide. "You didn't say that your best friend was a man. Your husband is gay?"

"No, just lascivious. My former chauffeur is a girl."

I can't remember what I did in the afternoons before the big monitor with split screens moved in. I mean, a soap opera? I had one of my very own unfolding in my dining room where Pinto was playing host.

"I love this room," he said. "With the mural Sophie's dad painted on the wall. A fox hunt. So many people on horses and with hounds chasing a scrawny fox. You British have a strange way of showing superiority."

David was in a brood. "Foxes are vermin. They carry disease, fleas and ticks and will kill a baby if given the chance. Now that fox hunting is outlawed in the UK they're multiplying by the thousands and can only be shot as vermin. That should be your first clue, Pinto."

Pinto nodded his head. "Like our diamond thieves. They're multiplying too so we just shoot them. As vermin."

Kasha jumped in. "You don't kill them, Pinto! I was there, remember? You just scare them away."

He giggled. "It's a lot of fun though. I just love to see them jumping in the air and running. But unlike fox hunting I don't outnumber them. There's usually ten of them to one of me."

"One of you with a gun," David grumbled.

"I didn't say I was stupid."

Silence.

Potsy appeared to collect the plates.

"That was delicious, Madam Potsy. I love your steak and ale pie. I'm tempted to steal you away from Sophie."

Potsy smiled her way out of the room, soon to return with another of Pinto's favorites. Crème brûlée. She was buttering him up.

"I have a surprise for the two of you," Pinto announced when Potsy had gone. "We're having company. Sophie has invited my young brother for Christmas. He'll be arriving on the twenty-second."

Kasha gulped.

"I knew you'd be excited, Kasha. The two of you had such a good time at my place in Abuja. I know he's looking forward to seeing you again."

Blushing, she pushed back her chair and hurried from the room.

Shortly after nine p.m. I sneaked into Christie's room. She was sitting on her bed staring at a portrait on the wall. _Victoria in Red Velvet, Age Eight,_ the plaque read. "I feel like a criminal. Luring her man away. It'll break her heart."

"Well, it's not too late. We can leave her to Antonio the letch. Do you actually think she'd be happy with someone like that? He's after you now. And initially he was after me. And who do you think he'll he be after next? He's a murder suspect as well. Is that what we want for Victoria?"

She shook her lovely head. "I just wish we could do it without hurting her."

"Me too. Are we ready to proceed?"

Her luggage was stacked near the door. "I'm ready. I guess."

"Antonio is to meet you in Miami at your imaginary yacht?"

"Yes. He is. He's leaving later tonight."

"And you're going home?"

"Yes. I'm going home. Downtown Toronto."

"I'll see you to the door. Chauffeur is waiting for you there."

I tossed in my bed unable to sleep, likely due to fear for my vision, should Victoria learn the truth and claw my eyes out. But then it started. Pop, pop, pop, just as Victoria said, somewhere in my tiny galley kitchen, corn was being popped. I could even smell it. "Who's there?" I called.

Nothing.

I turned on my beside lamp. "Who's there?"

Silence. Nothing but a big black blob that went floating through my room and out the open window.

I only shook a little. But as I was about to turn off my light a clicking noise at the door alarmed me. I could see the doorknob turning.

"Who's there?" I called.

Nothing.

"Who's bloody well there?"

The door inched open.

"Help!" I screamed. "Help!" In a panic I leaped from my bed and slipped through the open window, landing on the boxwood hedge below. Wearing nothing but a nightgown and bare feet I raced through the gardens to the back gate, then on to the blackened ravine. I held my breath. Twigs snapped; the forest floor crunched; footsteps approached.

"Oh, Sophie! Where are you hiding, Sophie dear?"

Sophie not breathing. Sophie scared to death.

"I will find you so you may as well come out. I'm not going to hurt you."

Right.

"You thought you could fool me, didn't you, Sophie dear? You thought you could trick me into leaving Victoria but I'm too smart for that. You should have known. Ah ha!" he cried, grabbing my arm and twisting. "Ah ha! I've got you now."

"Owe! Owe!" He was breaking my bloody arm.

As Antonio pulled me against his chest I felt a knife blade at my throat. "You can cut the act now, Sophie. I did my own investigating. You're no cook. You're a wealthy British woman AWOL. You're just taking a refreshing break from your royal chores. Lady who?"

"Macbeth?"

"You're funny for someone so close to lying at the bottom of a ravine."

He was dragging me backwards by my twisted left arm towards the edge of the cliff. "Oh, and don't worry about Victoria. It seems she'll be marrying me, after all."

"Help!" I screamed. "Somebody please help!"

They came out of the bushes, then, like _Field of Dreams_. "Let her go, Antonio," said Joe Toronto, who looked exactly like his portrait in Vinny's den. Young. Handsome. Tough. Strange, since Joe T was now pushing ninety-seven.

Antonio tightened his grip.

"You don't want to hurt the girl," said white-haired Vinny Senior, a squarely built man. "What did she do to you, anyway? Tricked you a little? Made a fool out of you? That's what dames do. Just ask the boys here."

Buzzing and nodding from the ghosts. Dames could do a guy in. Sammy the Sheep baaahed. "I'll make you a deal, Antonio. One you can't refuse. The girl for your life."

I felt the knife blade pressing into my skin. "You're not helping!" I shouted.

"Tell you what," Joe Toronto condescended. "We'll leave you to Chicago Skinny over there. He bit it here. And he and his pals that met the same fate are just itching for something to do."

They were, in fact. They were arguing over who should get the honour of doing Antonio in.

"The honour is mine," said a young punk with slicked back hair. "You said I should prove myself, Skinny. I should get to snuff Antonio out."

Antonio lowered the knife to my arm. "You're not real! You're dead. You couldn't do anything if you tried."

It didn't matter if they were real they bought me a little time. With some effort I managed throw my head back hard, grabbed his fist that held the knife, and to turn sufficiently to knee him in the groin. Then, as he started to fold, I pushed him off the cliff.

In the kitchen around four a.m. and over tea, Rocco said, "It's only a small gash. You'll heel. And you can always wear sleeves to hide the scar. Sleeves are quite popular now."

Exactly what I needed to hear after a trip to hospital for stitches and the law swarming everywhere with questions, like who had used their shirt to tie a tourniquet on my arm. Hadn't I been alone when Antonio tumbled off the cliff?

Rocco kept shaking his head. "I can't believe Antonio! So brazen. Knocking Chauffeur out with a tire iron to steal the master key. You were easy prey back there in the ancient part of the house."

"I hollered for help. And where were you?"

"Sleeping in my room. On the second floor. At the front of the house. I didn't hear a thing. Owls, maybe." He changed the subject. "What are the odds, Sophie? Do you want to wager a bet?"

"Bet? What bet?"

"On whether Antonio makes it. I'm betting he doesn't."

I had pretty much had it with him by then. "Obviously, you don't play the horses. Either that or you don't know Antonio. Antonio will make a full recovery, I'm willing to bet. Fifty to one."

"Maybe he will. He seemed quite anxious to live when the firefighters brought him up on a stretcher. You were at emergency then. Getting stitched up."

"I did it for you, you bleeding idiot! For you and Victoria."

"Well, aren't we in a pissy mood!"

Victoria came storming in. "Get lost, Rocco!" She mounted a stool. "I could use a good stiff drink, Sophie. Do you mind? I'll have vodka, neat, and make whatever you want."

"Good luck on that one. I'm no longer your servant. I've just quit my job."

Victoria searched the room for someone else to coerce and finding no one, hopped off her stool. "I guess I have no choice. What do you want, Sophie?"

My life back, I wanted to say, but instead, "They've given me painkillers. And antibiotics. Not to mention a tetanus shot. I mustn't have alcohol."

"Live a little, Sophie! You're such a prude!" She returned with a vodka for herself and a hot toddy for me. "Here. My dad always made me one when I was sick. It tastes terrible but it'll put you straight to sleep. Guaranteed." She guzzled a half-glass of booze before making a sour face. "So, you're not a cook at all then, I understand. You're just a rich little British girl with no real skills, so I'm told."

"Did you not like my meals?"

"Loved them! And I want your caterer's name so I can have Rocco give her a call. He'll book her for the next cook. They've questioned Chauffeur, you see. Naturally, we'll continue on in your absence. I assume you've had your fun and will soon be going home to jolly old? Fun at my expense, that is."

I sipped my poison which wasn't half-bad. "I didn't mean to hurt anybody, Victoria. It's just that I got caught in a house exchange scam. Someone offered your house in exchange for mine and I didn't bother to properly check things out. I arrived here thinking that this house would temporarily be home."

"But when Rocco told you it wasn't, why didn't you go back where you belong?"

"Well, I didn't want to, you see. Someone else was living in my house. And the papers were full of my horrid husband and how he'd run off with a child. Who happened to be my chauffeur, by the way. I just wanted to escape it all and pretend to be somebody else."

"A cook."

"Exactly!"

"And deceiving us. Rocco and me."

"I didn't mean to."

"But you did. And then you made a play for Antonio. You wanted Antonio for yourself."

"No, Victoria. That's not how it happened. Antonio isn't who you think he is. He's a fraud. And possibly be a murderer. Rocco told you about his past but you didn't want to believe him. And yes. He made a play for me. And Christie too."

She shot her nose in the air. "I thought you were my friend! I even asked you to help pick out my wedding gown."

"Yes, you did."

"I liked you!"

"I liked you as well. That's why I couldn't let you marry Antonio. He's scum. You deserve better."

"But what if he dies? I'll have nobody. I'll be alone again."

I shark-bit my tongue. "And if he lives?"

"I just might stand by him."

"Excellent! I'm so very proud of you. No fear. And when you're bilked out of millions and lying at the bottom of an old well or an abandoned mine shaft you'll be saying to yourself, 'At least I stood by my man'."

She cocked her head sideways at me. "I don't know, Sophie. I don't know what to think."

"Antonio tried to kill me, Victoria. That should be enough."

December nineteenth. Victoria's wedding day. Except that it didn't quite happen as planned. With Antonio hovering between barely living and nearly dead, instructions from Victoria were to leave things be. A wedding would proceed as planned – despite the ruckus the previous night. I opened my bedroom door to Rocco in tears.

"You can't leave us, Sophie! We need you here now. Put those suitcases away!"

"What? My twenty-seven hundred ratty suitcases, do you mean?"

He rolled his eyes. "Those. Put them away."

"I'm going home, Rocco. Home where I belong."

"I thought there were people at your house that you didn't like."

"I'm warming to one of them. And, of course, my cook. She raised me. Potsy raised me. She's like a second mother to me."

Rocco giggled. "That's hilarious, sunshine! You having a cook." He was holding a large gift bag in his hand. "This is from Victoria and me. We thought you might like it." In the meantime, he spotted the monitor. "What's all this nonsense, sunshine? Were you spying on us too?"

"No, Rocco. I was spying on my own home in London. I was spying on the trouble happening there."

He smiled. "Well, that's very British of you, spying. Who do you think you are, James Bond?"

I extracted a large soft object wrapped in tissue paper. "You didn't!" I squealed. "You didn't!"

Rocco looked awfully pleased with himself. "We did. I gathered it from the garbage and sent it out for repairs. I'd seen it here in your suite, you see. Before the mutilation. And thought you might like it back."

I choked up. "Churchill has two ears! She hasn't had two ears since I was seven. She looks brand new. New fur. The whole nine yards. She's beautiful, Rocco. Thank you so much!" We hugged.

I also hugged my furry beast. "Churchill and I have a history. We used to read Edgar Allen Poe together in a darkened stairwell late at night with a flashlight."

"Poe is creepy."

"That's my point. He needs to be read in the dark. By a frightened child. That's how one gets him, actually."

"You're very strange, Sophie."

Just then my mobile rang and a gruff authoritarian voice said, "Forty-eight hours, Ms. Whitehead. We'll need you to stay in the country for another forty-eight hours. Further questioning may be required. Then I expect you'll be free to go."

"Expect?" I screeched. "Expect? You can't keep me here. I'm calling the embassy."

"I can save you the trouble. It's another forty-eight hours. That's what they'll say."

I turned to Rocco. "Apparently, I can't leave this ghost-riddled house. Unless I'm in a body bag. Doesn't that suck?"

Rocco laughed. "You're starting to talk like me now, Sophie. Step up is what I say."

"Fuck off!"

"Wanna use my kitchen? I'll be inheriting it again now that An-toenails is out of the picture." He hopped off my suitcase and headed for the door. "Unless Victoria decides to wheel him to the altar in a hospital bed."

Back in the kitchen Suki was being a pain in the arse. She was mooning me, essentially.

"What are you saying? That I'm the cat's arse? If so, I take it as a compliment."

Nothing. Not even a growl.

Rocco came strolling in. "She knows you're deserting us."

"I suppose you told her."

"Why? Were you going to leave without saying goodbye? Et tu Brute?"

"I was going to say good-bye. It's just you that I was going to nip out on."

"Thanks, Sophie."

"You're entirely welcome, Rocco."

"You'll miss me."

"Right. Like a severed arm. No pun intended."

"I suppose you're going to say that you can't work today due to injury. And that you'll sue because we don't carry workman's comp."

"Pardon me?"

"Forget it. You seem happy with your new sling and all. So, I'm going to leave you to make up with Suki. The wedding planner is here so I have to deal with him. He's such a bitch!" He turned back to me in the hallway. "You should see Jay today! All Michael Bastian in his gorgeous new suit. I can't keep my hands off him!"

"Try," I said dryly. I was shaking cat treats with my good hand when Potsy called.

"Are you alright, luv? You sounded so shaky when you called earlier. Are you alright dear?"

"I'm all right. But I can't come home just yet. I have to stay two more days for questioning. You know, like maybe I'm the killer now and Antonio is the innocent victim."

"You have no criminal past, luv. They're unlikely to suspect you."

"Don't be so sure. It's happened before."

"Were your finger prints on the knife?"

"No. Just my blood."

"You have nothing to worry about then. I watch _CSI_ UK. I'm very clued in on these things."

I smiled. The world could come crashing in and Potsy, not budging, would be glued o _CSI_. She was addicted.

"What's happening there today? I hope you're resting."

"Actually not. I'm actually standing on a bar stool tying cat treats to chandeliers."

"What? Whatever for?"

"Suki's angry with me. So I'm torturing her."

"That's a bit cruel, isn't it, Sophie?"

"No. It's just a game. And she knows it's a game. She's showing great restraint but she'll give in. Soon she'll rise up on her great haunches and bat them down. Then she'll leap off the counter and munch them."

"I still think you're mean."

Sometime during a doctor-ordered nap my mobile rang.

"Sophie, darling. Are you all right?"

"Yes, Michel. I'm all right. I've told you that several times today."

"I'm back now. In my upstairs suite. I'm meeting with the show's producers in a few minutes. We're not sure what to do now, with Antonio in hospital under arrest. I was to be the best man as you know."

I knew. "It's a bit of a mess, isn't it?"

"We'll figure it out. The important thing is that you're alright. Rest well my dear. I'll see you in a bit."

# Chapter Sixteen

Dilemma. What to wear to a slightly flawed wedding. Sorry. A highly-flawed wedding. Hmm... White, I decided, and plucked a white silk shift from my closet with no fear of competing with the bride. Later I was twirling around for Suki's approval when Rocco came storming into the kitchen.

"Jay is gone!"

"What?"

"Jay is gone! He's packed up and left. Without even leaving a note. While I was busy with that fucking idiotic wedding planner, Jay packed up behind my back. Chauffeur, the turncoat, even dropped him at the airport. Jay is gone!" He was sobbing now, his shoulders shaking. "I can't believe it! Gone."

I retrieved a box of tissues from the pantry. "I'm sorry, Rocco. Really sorry."

"I don't even know what I did wrong! He didn't bother to tell me."

"They usually don't, if that's any help. And those that want to talk about it don't usually tell the truth."

He cocked his head at me. "How do you know so much?"

"I wrote the book on being cheated on and chucked. I even designed the cover."

He blew his nose hard. "It hurts."

"You shouldn't blow so hard."

"You're not funny! Get serious, Sophie! I'm dying inside. Jay is gone and all you can do is joke. And you're not even funny. My heart is broken." He was gyrating like an electric chair victim.

"I'm sorry, Rocco. I truly am. It's just that you weren't very sympathetic last night after I nearly lost my life."

Loud sobbing. "I guess I wasn't. I was just so fucking happy to have Antonio at the bottom of the ravine and me back in the will, well. I guess I wasn't."

"Say sorry, then."

"Sorry."

I smiled. "I'm sorry too. We're good?"

"Good." He started to sob again and to latch on to my body for support. "He was going to take me away. We were getting married at New Years in Vegas... I can't believe he's gone. Without me! He's left me behind."

Well, I tried. "Perhaps he's gone off to be with one of those older men you told me about. His benefactors."

He sniffed. "That's because he needed the money then! He doesn't need it now. He's taken everything he owns and didn't even bother to say goodbye. He's gone, Sophie. My Jay has gone and left me."

One last shot. "Well, I guess we have to face it then. He's gone off because you were too good for him and he knew it."

He shot me a poisonous look. "That's just about the stupidest thing anyone has ever said to me!"

Late that afternoon the fashionable wedding guests began to trickle in and head dead straight for the bar. It was a shocker, all right. "Victoria getting married?" went the rumble. "We'll believe it when we eat the cake."

"Poor guy," someone said. "He's in for a bit of a bumpy ride."

Michel caught up with me in the kitchen. "You're not going to like what the producers have decided, Sophie. But just know this. Victoria is playing along. It's going to be a big charade for ratings. The ratings will go through the roof."

"Mind sharing?"

Dr. Zhivago shook his gorgeous head. "Can't. It has to be a huge shocker."

"Thanks for your confidence in me."

He smiled. "Just know this. It isn't what it looks like."

"Great. I'll consider myself informed."

At the top of the stairs Victoria, radiant in a strapless red-velvet gown, glared down at us. She was a vision, all right. Window curtains or no window curtains the woman wore anything well.

"I need my bouquet, Sophie," she called down. "Can you send it up with Rocco?"

Rocco was in the pantry drowning his sorrows with gin. "I'm drunk, Sophie."

"Well sober up. We have a huge problem. Victoria is expecting red flowers

and by some great accident the florist has sent white. Break it to her gently."

"Tell her yourself! It's a moot point though since the groom has died."

I heard a little gasp. From me. "Died?"

"Yes. They called a few minutes ago. Apparently marrying Victoria scared him to death."

"Rocco!"

"Well, what can I say? An-toenails has died."

"Oh, my god! Oh, my god! I feel like a murderer."

"You look like a murderer. You're very white. You should have worn a colored dress because you look like a ghost."

"Who's a murderer?" said a voice from behind.

Slowly we turned. "Victoria!" I screeched. "You're a vision!"

"Cut the crap! _I feel like a murderer_? Has somebody died?"

There was hardly an escape hatch from this bit of news. "I'm afraid so," I squeaked.

"And that someone would be?"

"Antonio." Well? Rocco was just standing there, downing gin. "I'm so sorry, Victoria!"

Without a word the bride, like the Goodyear Blimp, glided into the large panty armchair and for several long minutes seemed to be anchored there. She didn't cry. She didn't even pretend to. Finally, she struggled to her feet and straightened her gown. "I guess that's that. On to the next. I'll never be beaten by love or treason or murder or anything else. I will never be beaten. I'll have my bouquet."

Oh, oh. Sophie to the gallows. "I'm sorry but it's white," I muttered. "The florist made a mistake. It's in the cooler."

"I see," she said frostily. "Well, you can just leave it in the cooler then. Do you at least have a pair of scissors?"

"Yes."

She pointed to the poinsettia on the pantry countertop. "Then cut that damn plant down, tie it with a bow, and bring it to the kitchen."

I pointed to my fancy sling. "Rocco will."

As we were chopping flowers, Victoria was preparing the cat. "We're going to go in there, Suki, and hold our heads up high. Got that?"

Suki meowed. She was a pussycat for Victoria.

"You're going to lead the way on your diamond leash and I'll follow close behind. Got that?"

Meow. Meow.

"You paid too much for this bouquet," she said to Rocco, nose sky high. "Come along the two of you. You won't want to miss this show." With that she lifted Suki off the countertop to lead the parade.

Rocco held me back. "That'll teach her," he slurred.

"Teach her what?"

"Teach her for thinking she could cut me out of the will."

"What do you mean?"

"Antonio isn't dead. He's vastly improving, they said."

"Rocco! How could you?"

"It was so easy I'm almost ashamed."

We entered the huge sitting room, now a chapel, lit by tall tapers rising well above bushels of red flowers. White chairs clubbed together to form pews in which the rich and famous sat. The chaplain, plus gorgeous Michel and Roman-the-director, stood at the altar. As Victoria and Suki started down the aisle, Michael Bublé crooned,

You perform miracles

Whenever you hold me near

Tender warm miracles

That make me surrender dear, yes

And when you kiss me heaven opens wide

And there you are inviting me inside

No wonder angels up there have starry eyes

Fantastic, fantastic that's you.

I guess I don't have to tell you who chose the wedding song. At the altar, Michel took Victoria's hand.

"Holy shit!" said Rocco, who was leaning against me in the archway. "She's going to marry Michel."

My mouth froze.

"She's going to fucking marry Michel."

Someone else was catching my attention, someone casually leaning against a Roman column, a well-dressed man, all Versace, with salt and pepper hair and cobalt blue eyes. I had seen this man before in family portraits. It was Vinny Senior.

Vows were hurriedly exchanged at the altar to the tune of Suki's howling. She didn't like it one bit. Soon the newlyweds turned to face the wedding guests and the chaplain said, "I am pleased to present for the very first time Mr. and Mrs. Habib."

Rocco started to tear.

"What's the matter? She looks perfectly happy to me."

"That's the problem. I'm out of the will again."

Vinny nodded his graying head and smiled. Soundless clapping from two hands and the stomping of a noiseless foot preceded Vinny Senior's disappearance from the chapel.

At the reception, Roman couldn't stop counting his money. What a great twist! Victoria was expected to marry Antonio and instead married Michel. The network renewed the show for three more seasons. Roman, in fact, was as drunk as Rocco, who had finally learned the truth — the chaplain was a phony and the wedding was a sham. The big divorce news would open season two.

Later in the library, Rocco was nursing his vodka hangover with beer. I poured myself a nightcap and joined him. "Michel was called away before the last of the guests left, Rocco. Emergency of some sort. He said to tell you goodbye."

"Didn't I tell him? I warned him about oil spills."

"It was some sort of labor dispute. Something he had to immediately settle. He plans to stay in touch, however. And I've just heard from the authorities. Antonio will be deported to stand trial in Brazil after he mends. Maria Isabell's remains have finally been found and you'll never guess where."

"At the bottom of a ravine?"

"Funny. No, in a cemetery. Can you believe it? Head stone and everything. He just buried her as somebody else. The grave diggers finally came forward."

"I knew he was diabolical. Killing the rain forests and all."

"I remember."

"Eavesdropper! You know they'll never convict him in Brazil, hon. An-toenails will dazzle the jury. They'll be out of that deliberation room in less than half an hour."

"I sincerely hope not."

He started to tear up again. "Jay will never be back! I just know it in my heart."

"That's where you're wrong, Rocco. You're his safety net. He'll likely need you again before you know it."

He looked at me quizzically. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so. He's not finished with you yet. Not by a long shot."

"Do you know what? I hope you're right!"

# Chapter Seventeen

On departure day I dropped by the kitchen for one last hiss. "You are a cat, Suki. A c-a-t. Got that?"

She covered her face with her paws.

"You're going to miss me. Who are you going to hiss at when I'm gone? Did you ever think about that, Cat?"

She slowly raised her massive head and barked.

"She likes you." Victoria came breezing in. "She only barks for people she likes."

"I'll take it as a compliment."

Victoria climbed onto a bar stool and fanned out her crinolines. "I thought I'd find you here. Addicted to the kitchen, are we?"

"To Suki."

Suki hissed.

"Her hisses are much friendlier now," I said, as if to the mother of a bad child.

"Come and have a cocktail with us in the library, Sophie. I have fabulous news!" She did. In the library she told us that Prince Arab Charming had texted to ask if she was interested in spending the holidays in his villa in Spain. "He wants to try again," she said excitedly. "So, I'm off tomorrow."

Rocco turned red. "I can't believe you fell for that one, princess! A leopard doesn't change its spots. You already know about all the women. All the wives too."

"Not one of them like me! I am Victoria! And you're not being fair, Rocco. You hardly know the man."

Rocco winked at me. "Know the man? I've done the man. And most of his friends."

Victoria shook her long blond hair. "Can you believe this guy, Sophie? According to Rocco he's slept with every male on the planet. And as far as I know there have only been three."

"Yes," Rocco said, eyes twinkling. "But which three? That much you don't know." He switched to a more somber tone. "I have a confession to make. I went to see An-toenails today. In the hospital."

Victoria gasped. "You did what?"

"I saw An-toenails."

"Why, for heaven's sake?"

"Curiosity. I wanted to see what he looked like, all battered up. And don't look at me like that, Vicky! It wasn't a crime."

"But it is! It is to me! You're supposed to be loyal to me."

"And I am. I went out of curiosity. Nothing more."

She sighed. "Ok, Rocco. What did he look like?"

"Well, you're supposed to ask other questions first, like how did I get past the guard?"

"How did you get past the guard?"

"A cinch. Just told the guy I was Antonio's gay lover. He frisked me and that alone was worth going for."

We all laughed.

"And Antonio?" asked Victoria in a squeaky voice.

"Mad. Utterly mad. Delirious, in fact. Muttering ridiculous things. Like Vinny Senior had been at the ravine. And Sammy the Sheep. Chicago Skinny, even, and his goons. And Joe Toronto. He's sort of confusing the living with the dead, since Joe T is still alive. The man has gone completely berserk."

Victoria shook her head. "No, he's not. They're all dead. Hardly Tony called to say that Joe T died in his sleep. On his ninety-seventh birthday."

"When did he call?"

"Three nights ago. In the confusion I forgot to tell you."

"Thanks a lot!"

"You didn't even know the man, Rocco."

He looked hurt. "But I did! Through stories. Your stories. I feel like I've lost someone close to me. And you didn't even take it that hard."

"Of course, I took it hard! He was my great uncle. Married to Belladonna. He used to bounce me on his knee and buy me presents. I adored him!"

Rocco added, "And he bumped off the family's enemies. Don't forget that. He was very good at that."

She nodded. "It's about loyalty. I guess we all know that."

It's about giving the shirt off your back, I almost said. Joe Toronto had likely saved my life.

During the next few hours the house was an anthill of activity, with Victoria's people lugging things down the stairs. I crossed off my list by smoking a joint with Chauffeur who was going to miss me now. He was also going to miss Rocco who'd weaseled his way into Victoria's entourage and was off to Spain, with a pit-stop in Sicily where the two would attend a high-profile funeral. Around nine p.m. we met in the library for a final glass of champagne.

"Sorry I called you a prude." Victoria looked smashing in a belted red dress.

"For that I ought to take you up on your offer to spend New Year's in Spain."

"I'd like that, really. Other than for Rocco you're my only real friend."

"What about Bianca?"

"Bianca is a jet-setter. An acquaintance. Nothing close to the heart at all."

Rocco was reading a text on his cell. "Oh, my god! You're not going to believe this. It's Jay. Oh, my god! Oh, my god! He's telling me what happened. Oh, my god!"

"What happened?" Victoria said impatiently. "Don't just sit there saying 'Oh, my god'!

"He's bi," said Rocco. "The bastard is bi!"

Not a huge surprise to me. "And?"

"He left here to hook up with Christie. Since she'd invited us to her yacht." He winked at me. "He just left out the 'me' part. He ran off to be with her and her money."

"Big money," said Victoria. "Texas oil. Her family is worth billions. Her sister Bianca flaunts it like a tart."

Funny, but in my email exchange with Bianca I'd learned that her sister Christie was a rather large woman who, for the past many years, had barricaded herself in a bedroom of books and Belgian chocolates. She was forty-four years old.

"Oh, my god!" said Rocco. "It gets better. When he went to the marina where Christie's yacht was supposedly moored it wasn't there."

"Serves him right!" Victoria said triumphantly. "The trollop. That's what you get when you chase after money."

"Do you want to know what he did next?"

"Not really," Victoria quipped.

"Well, he went yacht to yacht until he found another gay guy. They're a couple now."

The room went quiet while Rocco wiped a tear with his sleeve. "He's happy, he says. And he doesn't want me back."

Victoria's eyes frosted over. "You didn't ask him that!"

"Of course, I asked him! I wanted to go on the yacht too."

Rocco came to say good-bye to me in the foyer. "It doesn't seem so long ago that we were saying hello at this very same door."

"It wasn't. Just a few short weeks."

"Time flies when you're having fun."

"Yes, well. I had a smashing time, actually. Being attacked by a murderer and all. I suppose I could chalk it up to adventure."

He held his hand behind his back. "We have a going away present for you. Victoria and I do. Besides fixing your damn Churchill cat. It's just that you can't have all of it right away."

"Why not?"

He handed me a blue Tiffany box. "You can open this part now. The other part is off to London where it will go into quarantine."

"Quarantine?"

"Yes. She left this evening. Right after you said good-bye."

I stiffened. "She?"

"Yes. Suki! We're giving her to you since we won't be home for a while. Months, possibly. We wanted her to be with someone she knows and loves."

I plucked the diamond collar with the little ruby heart from the box. "I can't believe you did that! You know I'm allergic to cats!"

"I know. I know. You don't have to tell me, hon. Every time you eat one you get sick."

Final Log Book Entry

Spaceship Millennium Sparrow powering up to leave Orbital Colony. Black Nerf Sophie will miss Space-gay Bughugger and Her Imperial Travesty. Wanted to leave Madclaw in Galactic Centre but not to be. Madclaw will be coming to earth. Eek!

# PART TWO: Heathrow, London, Home

## Chapter One

Heathrow, London, Home... Yay! David, Kasha... Not so yay. Potsy, Pinto – and with Suki yet to arrive – well, some sort of disaster likely lay ahead. Pinto filled me in during the precarious ride home from the airport as he clutched the steering wheel of my Bentley while scaring motorists off the road. Potsy and I clung to the armrests in the wide backseat.

"Welcome home, lovely Sophie!" He peered at me through the rear-view mirror. "I knew you couldn't stay away from me. Me and my excellent driving."

I glared at Potsy. "Why did you let him drive? And pretend to be a chauffeur again? He's the worst driver in all of the UK! Possibly the world. We could all be killed."

She straightened her shoulders. "I didn't have a choice. Pinto confiscated the Bentley. And before he came back Napoleon was driving it. Then David thought it was his. So, naturally I sided with the lesser of three evils. Not that Pinto is evil."

He grinned his infectious grin. "Wrong, Madam Potsy! I am evil. Before you know it I'll have tricked lovely Sophie into my big evil bed. For a long evil weekend." He winked at me in the mirror.

I choked. "Right. You should be so lucky."

"I am lucky. And trust me, I'm going to get lucky. And lucky you, I might add. I let you away once but that's not going to happen again. Ever. Soon you'll be living in my castle in Nigeria helping to shoot diamond thieves."

Potsy giggled. "Don't forget that uncle you have for me, Pinto. The one with the diamond mines too. I could use a little fun right now after all the nonsense I've put up with in Sophie's absence. Trust her to run off and leave me in the middle of a mess."

"I'm home now Pots. Pinto-James and I have a few ideas."

"Such as?"

"It's better that you don't know. That way you won't stress out and give yourself a heart attack."

She clunked me on the head with her knuckles. "I deserve to know! I have every right to know!'

Pinto nodded over his shoulder. "At least give Madam Potsy a clue. She's smart enough to figure the rest out on her own."

"Is the house decorated for Christmas?"

"I haven't exactly had time to manage it, you realize, with your squatters ordering me around. We're a bit late this year I'm afraid but the decorators are coming in tomorrow. The groceries are bought and I've set aside the next few days for a huge baking ordeal. I have presents wrapped so it's simply a matter of putting them under the tree, after it's up. Now you tell me. Did you bring me anything, Sophie? Something special from abroad?"

"I did Pots. You know that I would. It may be a tad late for Christmas, however."

Her round grey eyes went wide. "Why?"

"It's in quarantine."

## Chapter Two

The following morning I stumbled into familiar aromas in the kitchen, not surprisingly, since Potsy routinely started her Christmas baking at 5 a.m. On the countertop lay dozens of delicate pastries: mince tartlets, shortbread, sugar cookies in shapes of stars and Christmas trees, custard tarts and canapés in all shapes and sizes. Retrieving a plate from the cupboard I collected one of everything.

Potsy, in her full frilly apron, shot her nose in the air. "Well, it is lunch time. I was afraid you might sleep through the day."

I straddled a stool at the island and started to munch. "You're a bit ahead of me I'm afraid. It's barely morning in Toronto."

She waved her wrist at me. "Bye, bye, Toronto. You're in London now."

"I know that, actually. I have an appointment with my Kensington doctor tomorrow to take my stitches out. God, these are good, Pots! Whatever will I do when we lock you away in the home?"

She came at me with her wooden spoon. "You'll likely starve to death. You're wolfing those down, Sophie! Have you no manners?"

We shared a hug. Bantering was how Pots and I communicated but we were like Siamese cats if you fought us. One would cleverly distract you while the other batted you down.

I have a remarkable, renovated kitchen: white cabinets with glass doors for exposing Potsy's penchant for keeping things tidy; black granite countertops for checking one's reflection before the dinner guests arrive; a handsome island over which three crystal carriage lights elegantly dangle, plus a polished travertine floor. Posh, if I have to say so myself. In future, there would be a fat cat on the island countertop, rearing up and hissing her huge ugly head. Potsy had a lot to look forward to.

"I'm sure you're looking forward to seeing Kasha, Sophie."

"Indeed. I'm looking forward to forgiving her for stealing my husband twice."

Potsy laughed. "She only stole him once. You generously forgave her for that. The fact that you tricked her into going off to Nigeria with Pinto, and leaving David behind, well. That wasn't very nice."

I smiled. "But she broke our truce by coming back and trying to steal my money through David, yet again. I say that's twice. Twice is a more serious crime."

Potsy was busy flouring a mound of dried fruit, nuts and raisins on the countertop. Next year's plum pudding, I assumed, since she made it a year in advance. "Well, you won't have to see her until later in the day. She and David make their own breakfast in the guest suite nowadays. Apparently, they don't like my coffee."

"What? I don't believe it! Do you mean they don't like yesterday's coffee grounds from the garbage bin with the dirty orange peels and such? Nice, Potsy."

She stiffened. "Self-defense, that's all. Pinto's young brother is arriving this afternoon, then, Sophie?"

"Yes. Pinto is picking him up. They'll be here for the cocktail hour."

"Cocktail hours, you mean. With you lot it's likely to go on and on."

"What's for dinner?"

"Stuffed salmon. With Coquilles St. Jacques as appetizer. Your favorite."

"My favorite is chicken a l'orange."

She came at me with the wooden spoon again. "Tell your Pinto-James to make it for you then. After he plucks the chicken and sticks an orange in its gut."

I left the kitchen laughing. Well, Pinto-James had told David and Kasha on their first encounter that he prepared his chicken thus – all this before we learned he was only playing chauffeur and actually owned diamond mines in Africa. But that's another story.

The downstairs of my Kensington home has four bedrooms at the back of the house, all designed and built for servants in 1904. Today, Potsy, the chauffeur of the day, and two maids occupy those rooms. The upstairs of my historic home is divided into two distinct areas – a large suite plus four generous bedrooms on either side of a wide dramatic staircase. As many as twenty guests can be facilitated, and during my parent's tenure the mansion often played host to a series of long-nosed aristocrats with one foot in the grave. Vinny Senior would have loved to rattle through these hallowed halls.

Home. I wanted to wallow in it. The upstairs maid had prepared the corner fireplace in my cozy master suite so I settled into a stuffed chintz sofa to brood. I was a displaced person. I no longer belonged in Toronto, with Rocco and Victoria gone, and just the ghosts left behind to haunt. Nor did I belong in my own home where two people I'd loved and trusted had betrayed me and were living under my roof together. Even with my friend, Pinto, back in the chauffeur's quarters below I felt unsettled. But not for long.

Huge screeching and screaming arose from the foyer below. It was Potsy yelling for help. "Get that monster out of my house! You can't leave it here!"

I raced down the stairs but by the time I reached the foyer the door had closed and Potsy was sobbing. "I told him to take it away! I told him to take the horrible thing with him but he wouldn't. I told him I would never sign for the beast so he said he'd just sign it himself. That's what he always did, he said. He just forges signatures. Then he ran away and left me with a bear!"

Eek! "There must be some mistake. She's supposed to be in quarantine. During which time I was going to figure things out. Find her a gorgeous home with people that actually liked cats."

By this time, Pinto had emerged. "That's not a cat. I agree with Madam Potsy. That's a bear."

Poor Suki. She was stuffed into her cage so tightly she could barely breath.

"Bears are not orange, you two idiots. That's Suki and she is a cat, although she doesn't think she's one." I kneeled by her cage. "How you doing, Suki girl?"

She hissed.

Pinto laughed. "Well, at least she's friendly."

"She's scared. She's had a long trip squeezed into that cage. She's likely hungry and thirsty. We'll have to let her out."

Potsy finally caught her breath. "Not in this house, you won't! You take her outside and just let her run away. Someone will rescue her. Someone always does."

"I can't do that, Pots. This cat and I have bonded and I could never let her be in harm's way."

"She'll not be allowed in my kitchen. Never!"

"Fair enough. Pinto, could you carry her up to my suite please? And send someone to buy what we'll need. Cat food. Dishes. Litter. A litter box. A bed. The little office off my suite will do for her now. It was once an escape hatch and hopefully she's not smart enough to use it as such. I'll keep her there until I figure out what to do. Naturally she can come and go from my suite and spend time with me there, as she wishes. But she may just want to be by herself for a while. She's anti-social."

She hissed.

Pinto picked up her cage. "No kidding. And she weighs a ton. Are you sure she needs food?"

"A lot of food, actually. How do you think she got this way?"

Hmm. _Cat desensitization and counter-conditioning_ , I asked Google but Google wasn't brilliant. ' _exposure to the least scary version of the feared thing and gradually move to stronger version until full or normal exposure is reached.'_ Hello! I'd already decided on a small room and wasn't stupid enough to let Suki out of her cage until food, water, and litter were all in place. Then I bolted from her little room closing the door behind me. Soon I could hear her munching on the finest vitals money could buy and then nothing. When I at last dared to peek in she had nestled into her bed and was snoring like a banshee. Finally, she was with someone she knew and almost trusted.

## Chapter Three

Suki didn't come out of her hut for three days. In the meantime, Pinto-James' brother had arrived – all handsome, Harvard, and football star. At twenty, he was on his way to professional status in the US and very pleased about it all. Kasha came to my upstairs suite as soon as she learned of his arrival.

"I know what you're doing, Sophie. And it won't work."

Stunning as usual, she was wearing a jumpsuit; moss green, the color of her eyes. She stood in the doorway tossing back her long auburn hair.

"Come in, Kasha." I pulled the slim black frock over my head. "Would you like a drink? Or are you allowed? I mean, your pregnancy and all." The memories rushed over me like backwash. The girl-things we'd done together. The lunches. The shoplifting. The gallons of wine. The waiting up together for David to come home. Her stealing David from me.

She plunked herself down on the stuffed floral loveseat. "I'm allowed a glass of white wine if you happen to have it."

I checked my wine cooler. "I believe I do. A lot of it, in fact. Wouldn't it be fun to raid the fridge and party like we used to?" I was trying my best to hate her. But it's difficult to hate someone I once adored.

"Right, Sophie. So, you could trick me into things."

"Or you could steal my husband."

Stalemate. I handed her the frosty glass.

"It won't work, Sophie," she said in her thick Slavic accent. "Yes, Jonathon is a hunk. Any girl would be pleased to have him. But he told me in Abuja that he wasn't interested in settling down and wouldn't be for years. Football is his life for now and casual sex. I'm not interested in casual sex. I want a relationship. And when I found out I was pregnant with David's baby, well, I came straight home. Especially after the UK papers reported that you are now worth billions more after Mr. Whitehead's death. Certainly David and I are entitled to some of that."

I slowly sipped my wine. "How do you figure? Henry left David a very generous sum."

"He signed the divorce papers under duress. You pushed him into it so you would get it all."

"I see. That's how you remember it, Kasha? Well, I remember things a little differently, I must say. I remember you running off with my husband and the two of you pushing my divorce. Demanding my divorce, in fact. You threw your relationship in my face."

"You weren't in love with him, Sophie. And David wasn't in love with you. I did you a favor by taking him off your hands."

"Really? I suppose I should thank you then. For your great sacrifice and all."

She hopped to her feet. "You always have to be sarcastic, don't you? You can never just be nice."

"That's where you're wrong, Kasha. When people aren't trying to get their hands on my inheritance, on what is rightfully mine, I can be nice. Really nice."

Gorgeous Jonathon spent only one night with us before dashing off to visit friends in East London but promised to return on Christmas Eve. And since David and Kasha decided to dine out that first evening the three had yet to meet. Still jetlagged, I retired early on December 22nd and before a crackling fire tried to read a book. My god! _Fifty Shades of_ _Grey_? Was I really that desperate?

' _That's quite a nice tiger you have in that little room,_ ' a familiar voice said. _'Is it a baby?'_

I bolted upright on the sofa. "Hector! You need to get back in the book. _The Iliad_ will be missing you."

Armor from head to toe, Hector took a stand. _'No, Lady. I was just there in 13th century BC and nothing much was stirring. Just sailing and sailing off to yet another war. It takes years to get anywhere and not much fun on a ship. Especially when sharing with horses. I thought maybe I could help out here. With the little tiger, perhaps?'_ He was very handsome in full regalia, very Eric Bana.

"It's a cat, Hector. And she's about as big as she's going to get. Hopefully."

'I'm very good with tigers. I could teach her tricks. I could teach her to jump through a burning hoop. I've seen your circuses and they're pretty lame but maybe I could teach her to jump through a burning hoop backwards. That would be new.'

__ I smiled.

'The African has returned I see. I thought you were going over there to mate. I was counting on a trip and all you did was go off to Canada where everyone says please and thank you and sorry enough to make a person sick. They even have gun laws there. Next thing you know they'll be banning swords.'

__ "Sorry, Hector. Sorry that I let you down."

'See? You're even saying it now. Sorry. How lame!'

Obviously, Hector hadn't met Victoria or Rocco, to whom sorry was a foreign word. And I doubted the Mafioso knew it either. "Get lost, Hector. I'm going to bed now."

'Well, you needn't proposition me. I'm not even real.'

I didn't sleep long. Shortly after midnight my FaceTime chimed. It was Victoria in a panic.

"Sophie? Are you awake, Sophie?"

"I am now. How are you, Victoria?"

"Terrible! Prince Majeed has died. He died in my bed. Or his bed that I was in. He's dead, Sophie! Dead in Spain."

Gee. "That's not good news, Victoria. Do you know the cause of death?"

"They don't know yet because I didn't exactly tell them the truth. I told them I was his houseguest. That Rocco and I were his houseguests. I didn't tell them that he died while we were having sex."

"I see. Sex then. Sex was the cause of death. You must have been very good."

"This is not the time to be funny, Sophie. He has several wives and a lot of children and they'll all be coming here soon."

"Well, at least you have Rocco for support."

"Rocco is bawling his eyes out. He's the biggest wuss on the planet. He didn't even know Prince Majeed, yet he's taking this badly. I think he was hoping I'd become the fifth or hundredth Ms. Majeed and give him all my money."

"How can I help, Victoria?"

"Well. You can, actually. Rocco and I have to leave here immediately and we're too depressed to go home. We'd just sit there and cry all through Christmas. I know you have a large house and was thinking..."

I didn't have to mull it. "Yes, of course, Victoria. You and Rocco are welcome to come for Christmas. I'd be honoured. I have quite a few houseguests and you'll fit right in. Suki has accidentally arrived as well and will be delighted to see you both. Text me the details and chauffeur shall collect you from Heathrow."

"You're a lifesaver, Sophie."

"Not really. I just want to hear about all that rampant sex."

## Chapter Four

Well, it had to happen sometime, since it was apparently impossible to reside in the same house as my ex-husband without encountering the man. He stood easily in the doorway of my suite the following morning, casually crossing his legs. It was all too familiar: the sporty movement; the careless toss of the head; the deep blue eyes that would lock onto mine and masterfully chain me to him without guilt. The same sheepish grin.

"Good morning, Soph."

"Good morning, David."

We stood awkwardly together for several seconds before I said, "Since it would be inappropriate to hug I suppose we could shake hands."

He broadened his grin. "I'm for the inappropriate." With that he stepped forward and grabbed me in a bear hug.

Damn him! He still had the Jude Law good looks and the audacity accompanying the position. I wrestled myself away. "Come in, David."

He sauntered to the stuffed chintz chair where he eyed the silver tray on the ottoman. "I was quite certain Potsy would have sent up tea so I thought it might be rather civilized for us to talk over a cupper."

"Unless you'd rather have espresso. Or cappuccino. I believe this complicated machine does it all."

"Tea will be perfect, ta."

My hand shook a little as I poured the brew into a china teacup, which proceeded to rattle on the saucer.

"Hung over, Soph?"

"Funny. No, just a bit nervous about the conversation about to take place. You know, about how you plan to rob me of my inheritance and all."

He sat back in his chair. "I'm only fighting for what is rightfully mine. We were married for seven years, remember, together for nine."

"And you received a very generous settlement from me. More than even you can spend in a lifetime. You and Kasha. And the baby."

He shook his perfect blond head. "I'm entitled to more. It's as simple as that. You rushed the divorce knowing that Henry was on his deathbed. Knowing that with me out of the way you would inherit it all."

"Let's not pretend here, David. You rushed the divorce so you could marry a nineteen-year old child. My chauffeur and my friend. You may have your solicitor fooled but there is a trail and the truth. Own up to it. I could at least respect you for that."

His mouth twitched. "You're very bitter, Sophie."

"You're damn right I'm bitter! And I'm just warming up. There is a very good chance that you and your pregnant girlfriend will shortly be on the street. But don't worry about it, David. With the money already in your possession, my money, you can stay at the finest hotel. Try the Dorchester. I hear Christmas is lovely there."

He rose to his feet. "I knew it was a mistake trying to talk to you." Had he been a dog he might have exited with his tail between his legs.

And when I finally headed for the bedroom, Suki was sitting in the doorway of her little room and I swear, I swear on my dear dead ancestor's graves, that she was shaking her huge horrid head.

"What? You don't like David, Suki?"

Suki reared up on her hind legs and growled.

"Join the club."

She hissed, growled and barked before heading back to her bed.

Victoria and Rocco arrived mid-afternoon but not before Potsy and I had a kitchen discussion on numbers.

"This isn't a hotel, Sophie. You're loading this place up like a refugee camp. And the work is falling on me."

I perched on a stool at the island. "Book the caterers. I told you. You are not my slave. You do not have to punish yourself by doing all the cooking."

"Right, then. Like I want caterers in my kitchen messing things up. I had plans. And menus. And now all of that is out the window. Two days before Christmas. It's lunacy, that's what it is."

"Well, let the maids help out. They always offer but you shoo them away. You're territorial and you know it."

"Well, that's one of the problems, Sophie. I've given the maids three days off for the holiday. There's nobody to help. Additionally, there's something I haven't told you about. I've invited my sister to stay. And Toddy for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Boxing Day too, if he so chooses. I thought you wouldn't mind since the two of you are close."

_Were_ close, she meant. We parted ways after my decision to go off on a house exchange adventure and hadn't stayed in touch. About Todd: gorgeous actor; son of Jessica – star of stage and screen, and an elusive Arab sheik – dark-haired, dark-eyed Todd came with a complicated lineage and beautiful blood.

"It's not a problem, Pots. There are plenty of bedrooms. Perhaps Edward can help you in the kitchen."

She laughed so hard her shoulders shook. "Remember the last time he helped? The little Korean-illegal-alien played games on my computer while things went up in smoke. Additionally, he added grass, and possibly worms, to my garden vegetable soup. No, Edward needs to stay where he belongs. I did, however, tell him to join us for the celebration. It would be a shame to leave him out there in the gardener's quarters alone."

"Absolutely! Of course, Edward is welcome. So, let's look at the bedroom numbers then. Hmm... Potsy, Sophie, David, Kasha, Pinto, Connor, Victoria, Rocco, Jessica and Todd. Why is Todd staying over, exactly? Hyde Park is not that far away."

"I thought he'd like the merriment here, rather than going home to an empty condo. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. Victoria and Rocco will salivate over him since they both love gorgeous men. Alright then. Numbers. I already have the master suite, David and Kasha the guest suite. You have your place on the main floor, as does Pinto. That leaves eight bedrooms available on the second floor for Rocco, Victoria, Connor, Jessica and Todd. You see, Pots? We have three bedrooms to spare."

"And don't be filling them up! I'm almost dead of exhaustion and I don't need further aggravation."

"I'll call the agency. There are always people willing to work the holiday for triple time. We'll quadruple. We'll get you a real chef and a few extra bodies to sous chef, also serving and washing up. Or whatever you need. And I'll get a wine steward. Three, in fact. This will be a very thirsty crowd. Are you all right with that?"

She shot me a lethal look. "I have no choice. You'll fill my kitchen with illegal immigrants that don't celebrate Christmas. There's no telling what you'll be letting in. I'll be hiding the silver, for certain. And what if they don't speak English?"

"Oh, that reminds me. Who will be relieving old Charlie at the gate?"

"Well, that's another story. Apparently, Edward's brother is arriving from Korea today. Illegally, I'm sure."

"One more for dinner then?"

She shook her soft grey curls. "Take out. He'll have to eat at his station."

"Does he speak English?"

"Not a word. But that's alright. We'll just have Edward tell him not to let anybody in. We have a full house as it is."

After Victoria and Rocco had settled into their rooms they joined me in the library. And holy smoke! Victoria was dressed all in black, topped by a lovely black fascinator with a veil. Her tight-fitting dress came with a plunging neckline to the waist and no back at all. It mattered not, however, since her blond hair tumbled like a waterfall to her butt.

I handed her a flute of Dom Perignon. "You look very widow-ish, Victoria."

Rocco couldn't stop laughing. "She looks like Whistler's Mother, for godssake! She's a scream at best."

Victoria turned up her nose. "I bought this outfit for Joe Toronto's funeral. I didn't know that I'd have to wear it twice."

Rocco snickered. "I hope they have a hundred more just like it in Barcelona because the harem is moving in. We barely escaped with our lives." He looked good not wearing a jumpsuit. Instead he wore a soft blue jumper above navy trousers. Handsome was the word.

Victoria sipped her champagne. "You have a beautiful home, Sophie. Priceless antiques. Renaissance art. Very extravagant for a cook."

"Yes, well. You are about to meet my own cook so be forewarned. Potsy is a bit of a snob."

She nodded. "My last cook was a bit of a snob too. And she tried to steal my future husband." Her face broke into a smile. "Just kidding!"

Potsy came in with a tray of canapés just then. Her mouth fell open.

"These are my friends from Canada, Pots," I said. "Victoria and Rocco. And this marvelous woman, guys, is my cook."

The cook nodded but said nothing. She seemed to be tongue-tied.

Rocco stood up. "I hear you make excellent coffee. From garbage. Very creative, I'd say. Very green planet."

Potsy couldn't help smiling. "And don't you forget it. You, young man, had better behave." With that she laid down the silver tray and hurried from the room.

"She likes you," I told Rocco. "So far so good."

"I'll kiss her ass if I have to." He downed his vodka neat. "The worst thing to possibly get is on the wrong side of the cook. I know this from experience." He winked at me.

David and Kasha were standing hesitantly in the doorway so I walked to greet them.

"Are Kasha and I invited for cocktails, Soph?"

"Yes, of course! What has happened before and what will happen after is of no concern now. It's Christmastime. A time for celebration. Let's just try to like each other for the next few days, shall we?"

They nodded.

"Come in then and meet my friends."

Following the introductions I made a poor excuse to check on things in the kitchen, mostly because I needed to hear Potsy's take on things.

"They're an odd sort, Sophie. Why is that woman dressed all in black? With her knockers hanging out?"

"She's in mourning. Somebody close to her died."

"That's a shame. So near to Christmas and all. Was it a relative?"

"Well, two people died, actually. One was a relative but he was an old man. Ninety-seven. The other was a lover."

"I see. Well, in my opinion she seems to be looking for a new bloke, with her assets on shameful display."

I giggled. "Victoria has the capacity to rebound quickly. She's amazingly resilient."

"I like Rocco. He's an imp."

"More than you know."

By the time I returned to the sitting room, Pinto had arrived and was serving drinks from the bar. "Lovely Sophie! I'm playing host. I hope you don't mind."

"I'm grateful. You've met my friends, I see."

He whispered in my ear. "Very peculiar. They're not your usual type."

"What type?" I whispered back. "In case you hadn't noticed I haven't any type."

David was in a pout. "I'm not comfortable with Pinto taking over my job," he mumbled when I handed over his scotch. "This is my house and I should be host."

"Give it a rest, David. Trust me. There will be plenty of opportunity for you to host over the next few days. Enjoy the quiet. An avalanche is about to hit."

It was a stiff cocktail hour, to understate. David was in a brood, Kasha was in a mood, Victoria had gone stone-cold silent while Rocco busied himself at the bar. Doubles, actually. And with my uncanny ability to read minds he was saying, _'This is scarier than the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. There, at least, things are deliberately creepy, not like here where they unintentionally are.'_

__ At least dinner was easy. David and Kasha had plans to go out for the evening, as did Pinto who was off to join his brother at a pub. I decided that Victoria and Rocco should join me for a quiet meal delivered to my suite where Suki might also us join us, should she come out of hibernation. She didn't. They retired early, Rocco due to the large amount of alcohol consumed and his inability to walk through a doorway without bouncing off the frame, and Victoria depressed.

Potsy rang me just after I'd settled into bed. "This isn't the brightest idea you've had, Sophie. They're not going to meld. Different worlds. It's like Mercury and Pluto. They couldn't be further apart."

"I know. I know. I'm worried. If things don't dramatically change Christmas may well be a bust. But we have new blood moving in tomorrow. Victoria is bound to like Todd, as is Rocco. I'm counting on Todd to elevate Christmas Eve."

Potsy was upset over the new help. It seemed that Azam wanted to be boss and to order others around.

"He's nasty!" she told me when I stumbled into the kitchen just before noon the next day. "He talks down to women and unfortunately they've sent me three. The Chinese lady knows just three English words I gather. Not nice ones either. While she did take the breakfast trays up to your new houseguests she wasn't happy. She let him have it right in the turban."

"And the three English words?"

"Fuck off, Omar."

"But his name is Azam."

"She doesn't know Azam. She only knows Omar."

"Oh. Ok. Well, at least she can stick up for herself."

"Sophie! I'm living in the United Nations Building and all you can do is joke."

"I didn't mean to joke. I just don't know how I can help."

"Tell Azam to stop pinching my arse. That would be a start."

Since things were going badly in the kitchen I decided on an early cocktail hour on Christmas Eve. Six o'clock rather than seven. Jessica would surely have her wig on straight by then. Todd had brought her round and he, too, had settled into his room by three p.m. But the excitement had yet to come. Rocco pounded on my master suite door just after three.

"You won't believe this, Sophie! Jay is in London! We've been texting back and forth and he's finally come to claim me. He wants me back! Can you believe it?"

I could. Jay had obviously been dumped. "Come in, Rocco. And let's have a drink for old time's sake. Your pleasure?"

"Need you ask? Cooks are to know such things."

I poured him a healthy Grey Goose. "The details?"

"The guy with the yacht was married. He was totally bi!"

"No kidding! And Jason isn't?"

"Well, Jay is Jay. He refuses to be defined."

"Good call."

"You don't sound that happy for me."

"Well. I could lie. I could tell you that I'm ecstatic about the man who has broken your heart, over and over again, coming back to you. But I'm not going to. You see, there's this nagging voice that keeps telling me he's likely to hurt you again. I don't want that for you, Rocco. You deserve better."

"I don't want better. I just want Jay."

I nodded. "If that's what you honestly want, Rocco, then he's welcome in my home."

He sprang from his chair like a hungry lion to embrace me in a headlock. "Oh, Sophie! You are the best, hon. The absolute best! He's on his way over as we speak."

After Rocco had gone a familiar voice commented, _'That's a very odd boy."_

"How so? Because he's homosexual?"

Hector laughed. _'No. We have a lot of those too. Too many long voyages with no ladies. It happens.'_

__ "But not to you."

'Never! I am a lover of beautiful creatures like yourself. You have the bone structure of a princess. And the long dark hair. You would be a prize in any era.'

__ Wow! A compliment! I didn't quite know how to take it. "What's so odd about Rocco?"

' _From your conversation, I gather that he has accepted back a man who hurt him. And will likely hurt him again. Why doesn't he just kill him?'_

"Trust me, Hector. I've thought the very same thing. Now please get back in the book."

"Talking to yourself again, Sophie?" Gorgeous Todd Aimes stood in the doorway oozing charisma. He was totally G.Q. and not one bit ashamed to flaunt it. In one fowl swoop he grabbed me by the waist, picked me up, and swung me around. Then he lowered me against his hot body and kissed me passionately, the wolf.

My heart went racing. Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump.

He was holding me close and stroking my hair. "God, I've missed you, Sophie! Did you have to go away? It's been torture for me without you."

I managed to meet his deep brown eyes with the swirling black pupils. "I missed you too, Todd."

He deposited us both on the sofa. "Did you get things sorted out?"

"Not really. David and Kasha are after my inheritance now so I'm still in a fight."

"They're here. I just met them in the upstairs hallway. Why are they here, Sophie? Haven't you had enough?" He ploughed his fingers through his thick dark hair.

I struggled off the sofa. "Martini, Todd? Tangueray? Glass waved towards France for the vermouth?"

"Absolutely! Excellent memory. That's exactly what I've missed about you."

When I returned with the drinks we clinked. "I wasn't foolish enough to invite them here again. They crashed in on Potsy when they learned I was away. And since I arrived home at Christmastime, well, I decided to defer. To put things on hold for a few days. I have a houseful. Pinto's here."

He smiled. "I know. I met him in the foyer. He's an old friend now. Is he still after you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think yes. I think Pinto will go to his grave lusting after you."

"I love Pinto. I'm just not _in_ love with him."

"You better not be." He leaned over to kiss me again. "Ironic, isn't it? We're all back in this creaky old mansion again. Ready for whatever may come. We're writing our own novel, actually. And hopefully nobody dies."

"Hopefully. My Canadian friends are here as well. Victoria and Rocco. Plus, Rocco's on-and-off again partner, Jason. I'm looking forward to seeing your mum as well."

He smiled. "Then you'd be alone. Jessica is difficult, to say the least. If she wasn't my mother I'd have deserted her long ago."

"But she is."

"She is. How's my aunt doing? I popped into the kitchen on my way in but she wasn't there. It was quite a beehive of activity."

"Ouch. That is a touchy subject. Let's just say that Potsy is not happy about my loading the house up with guests and ruining her plans. Additionally, she's not thrilled about sharing her kitchen with the United Nations. You know Potsy. England is for the British."

He laughed. "Well, they looked very British to me. Apparently, she hasn't noticed the newcomers. We need them here. Or should I say I need them here. They attend my movies in droves."

"Someone has to."

"Ouch!"

"It's time for you to meet my new friends."

Rocco was busy putting presents under the Christmas tree in a library brimming with red poinsettias and roses when Todd and I arrived. Pinto was at the bar playing host. David and Kasha were sitting very still, their faces as long as linguine. Victoria had yet to make her grand entrance, as did a few others. We met up with Rocco at the bar where I introduced him to Todd.

Pinto had liked Rocco immediately upon collecting him from the airport and was teasing him. "Rocco. That's a big tough name for a little guy."

Rocco smiled. "It is. And I live up to it, trust me. I'm Mafioso."

"Fair warning. Do you happen to carry a gun?"

"No. But I'm never far away from one. They're planted in this very room. I've seen to that."

"Very clever!" Pinto poured Rocco a stiff one. "And I assume you can hold your liquor, sir."

"No. I can't. But I keep on trying. I'm hoping to get better with time."

Jason arrived looking all Asian Eric McCormack. Or Armani. Or both. He came immediately to our little group for introductions. Rocco beamed with pride.

"Jay and I have been together for almost nine years. Off and on."

Jason shrugged. "Everyone needs a break once in a while."

Pinto poured Jay a glass of Pinot Noir. "Sophie's like that. She was taking a break from me in Canada. That's why she went there."

Todd cleared his throat. "I don't think so, Pinto. She was taking a break from me."

I squeezed Rocco's arm. "I was actually taking a break from David but who's counting?"

Jason had trouble keeping his eyes off Todd. "So, you are the great Todd Aimes. Alien slayer. I have all your movies on DVD."

"I appreciate that, Jason. Every sale counts."

Just then Victoria breezed in wearing a smashing red velvet gown, topped by the little black fascinator and veil. She looked fantastic and tragic. Following the introductions Pinto said, "Dom Perignon. Am I correct, lovely lady?"

She smiled demurely. "Absolutely, you adorable man."

Rocco could hardly wait to preface. "Victoria's grandfather was a mob boss. A Don. And her father was crooked too."

Victoria's mouth fell open. "You little shit! I can tell my own story, thank you very much." She sipped her champagne.

Todd was exploding with curiosity. "I'm wondering what's behind the veil. Did somebody die?"

She nodded. "Yes. My great uncle died. We attended his funeral in Sicily before coming here. Rocco and I attended."

Rocco nodded. "Joe Toronto was a mob boss too. His funeral was huge!"

Victoria stiffened. "If you don't shut up, Rocco, I'm going to shove this napkin down your throat."

Just then Potsy came in with a tray of canapés to offer up. I pulled her aside.

"What are you doing? You have people to do this little chore. You're supposed to be here with us. As family."

"Maybe I don't want to be here with you. Maybe I don't like your friends."

"That's ridiculous! You're a control freak. You won't let go. You have lists and procedures taped all over the kitchen cabinets, for godssake. There are people in that kitchen that can read and write English, except for maybe one. You have a trained chef there. A professional chef. You need to let him do his job."

"Azam will only mess things up. And he's terribly bossy. The others are afraid of him."

"Let them be. It's not like he's going to physically harm them. He's trying to train them, to get them to do things right. You're likely a menace in his kitchen."

She bit her lip. "It's my kitchen I'll have you know! And he's not welcome in it. I shouldn't have to put up with strangers running things. You're ruining my Christmas, Sophie." Tears sprang to her eyes.

Tears sprang to my eyes too. "Oh, Pots! I'm so sorry. I didn't plan on such a large crowd. But we have to make the best of things now. People are here and expecting wonderful things from us. We have to do our very best. And do you know what? After all of this we'll go to the Riviera. Cote d'Azur. For New Years. What do you think about that?"

She brightened. She nodded. She wiped a tear from her cheek. "It will be my treat, Sophie. Since you have no money at present. Henry left me a small fortune, as you know, so let's squander some of it. Let's stay for a month!"

"So, you'll come join us then? Your sister is looking quite bored over there."

"She's talking the hind leg off David and Kasha and they bloody well deserve her." She left the room with a great broad smile on her face.

Henry's magnificent mural of _The Hunt_ stretched across the entire dining room wall. It had taken him months to complete and was truly his Magnum Opus. Oh, _The Hunt._ Erect men and women in splendid red jackets on horses and with lots and lots of hounds eager to sniff out a scrawny terrified fox. I never quite had the heart for it myself.

Fortunately, the great walnut table in my dining room table accommodated twenty-four so the boisterous bunch of us easily fit in. Potsy had prepared place cards on little crystal vases, each one containing a sprig of juniper, a red rose, and a royal red velvet amaryllis. A spectacular red poinsettia arrangement hogged the buffet. The seating arrangement left much to be desired, however. Earlier in the day she'd confided in me her method. "I just shuffled the tags," she said. "Then tossed them into the air. I totally left things to chance."

Right, then. I was seated at the head of the table since, apparently, I was host. To my right sat Jessica, to my left Edward, my Korean gardener. Beside Edward sat Kasha while David had drawn a card at the end of the line near Todd, his favorite nemesis. Victoria sat between them. Luckily, Rocco and Jason's cards had fallen to the floor together so they were seated side by side, Rocco next to Pinto. Connor was on Jessica's right. Potsy had confiscated the end of the table facing me, from where she could play boss. Done.

In came the first wine steward wheeling a trolley. Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Dom Perignon, Pepsi for Edward, the works. When the jumbo shrimp appetizer came rolling in Potsy winked at me. "I made the seafood sauce in advance and poached the shrimps. I figured the kitchen staff couldn't hurt much after that."

"Control freak."

She just smiled.

Lobster bisque came next. "Don't tell me, let me guess. You made the bisque, Pots."

"I had a little encouragement. Azam kept pinching my arse to keep me going."

Polite laughter from the guests.

Between courses David was saying, "Tell me about Toronto, Victoria. I hear it's quite cold there."

She turned up her nose. "Not always. In summer it's fiercely hot. But we do have snow in January, if that helps."

David looked puzzled.

Three sheets to the wind, Rocco expounded. "Victoria is a celebrity. She has her own reality show and everything. Sophie and I are in it too. But Victoria has all the fun. She gets to sleep with a lot of men."

"Rocco!" Victoria's face turned red. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because I can." He laughed his head off.

Jason's turn to chime in. "You were jealous, Rocco. You had your eye on the Arab. I saw you drooling."

"And you weren't drooling over Michel? Or An-toenails? Give me a break."

Sophie to the rescue. "For your information the show will air in February if anyone cares to watch it. But let's change the subject for now."

David wasn't about to let it go. "You were on a reality show, Soph? How tacky!"

Oh. Oh. Victoria was seeing red. "Tell us about tacky, David. Why don't you tell us about that jacket you're wearing? I hope you realize that there is a poor horse out there somewhere shivering without its blanket."

Pinto pounded his fist on the table. "That is too funny, Victoria!"

David's bottom lip quivered. "That's not funny."

Victoria laughed her throaty laugh. "No it isn't. It's just the truth."

Fortunately, the main course was being wheeled in to an ecstatic reception. Beef Wellington with a vegetable medley. Chicken a l'orange for Sophie. "Let me guess, Pots. You made this as well."

She beamed. "But of course! To the point where I wrapped the beef in pastry. Azam had only to cook it in a hot oven for twenty minutes. We had a practice round this afternoon."

"Delicious!" Pinto said excitedly. "And tell us, Madam Potsy. How many times did he pinch your arse during this trial run? Ten? Twenty?"

Potsy looked down her long haughty nose. "You don't know me well enough to be so familiar, Pinto."

He giggled. "Do you mean because I haven't pinched your arse? I've kissed it often enough if that counts for anything."

Laughter. Even Potsy laughed. It was hard to stay mad at Pinto.

After a crème brûlée dessert, also prepared by Potsy, we headed back to the library for cognac and a warm friendly evening in front of the fire. Unanimously we decided to put the kitchen staff to work Christmas morning for room service, with mimosas. A lot of mimosas, Victoria thought. Bring the bottle. There would be no formal gift opening as people could come and go and fish out presents as the spirit moved them. I escaped early for reasons known to almost everyone.

## Chapter Five

Sometime in the middle of the night I awoke to a hairy body in my bed. But I didn't breathe. I didn't know who it was or exactly how he got in. Certainly I'd locked my hallway door as usual and only David knew how to get in without a key. I just didn't remember him being so hairy. "David?"

Nothing. Only snoring. It was David alright, passed out cold in my bed. "David!" I hollered.

Suki poked her furry head out from beneath the blanket. "Meow."

I sat up, confused. And rightly so. "Meow? Where's the hissing? Where's the growling? The barking?"

She just closed her eyes.

Oh, great. There I was avoiding possible bed partners and I was stuck with a cat? To whom I was allergic, I might add. I sneezed. "Guess I'll need allergy pills, Suki. Cause it looks like you've hunkered in."

Hector was the first to arrive on the scene Christmas morning _. 'Lady. Why are you sleeping with the tiger?'_

I opened my crusty eyes. "Practice. I'm getting ready for a man. You know, body hair. Bad breath. Flatulence. Suki farted all night."

'That's because you feed her too much. If I took her on a voyage with rations she wouldn't pass gas for a week. Guaranteed.'

__ "Be my guest, Hector. Could you possibly take her today?"

_'Not today, Lady. I'm not going to miss today. Your houseguests are_ _revving their engines and there's going to be a fight. Not with swords, naturally. They're like moles. All they have is their teeth and their claws.'_

Barely was I out of the shower before Kasha stumbled in, wrapped in her fluffy pink bathrobe. __ "Merry Christmas, Sophie."

"Merry Christmas, Kasha. Do you want to make the mimosas while I get dressed?"

"Absolutely. We have to have mimosas, Sophie. For old time's sake."

Absolutely, I mulled. For old time's sake. When she handed me the frosty flute I said, "We have to toast to something new, Kasha. New friends, new future, new clothes. And I have quite a few new outfits for you to steal, by the way."

She coughed. "I thought you said truce for Christmas."

"I did. And I'm sorry. I didn't have time to Christmas shop so if there's anything you want that's new with price tags still on please be my guest. Oh. And didn't I generously give you my husband? That should be a Christmas present too."

She finally smiled. "You're joking."

"Am I? Let me just say that I'll write you a cheque for taking him off my hands."

We clinked. "You really don't want him back, do you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Who will I give him to then?"

We sat down. "He deserves Victoria. Victoria would smack him around."

"She would! She'd put him in his place. Boy, does she have nerve!"

I smiled right down to my toes. My new Mafioso BFF had more guts than Dick Tracey. "David isn't Victoria's type. She'd eat him alive."

"I miss you, Sophie! I miss all this fun. All the fun we used to have."

"Me too. Are you ready?"

She jumped to her feet. "Ready!"

Together we locked arms and started to dance sideways across the floor.

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit

You got a beautiful chin, you got beautiful skin, you've got a beautiful face, you've got taste.

You've got beautiful eyes, you've got beautiful thighs,

You've got a lot without a doubt, but I'm thinking 'bout blowing you out, cos

You won't stop talking, why don't you give it a rest.

We fell into our chairs laughing. "Merry Christmas, Kasha! Although a lot of people might question my sanity I'm glad you're in my life."

I walked her to the door.

"I'm glad for your friendship too, Sophie. But I'm worried. I just don't know about all those tricks you have up your sleeve."

"You should be," I said as I closed the door behind her.

Potsy was the next to arrive with tea and a gift bag. "Merry Christmas, Sophie!"

"Merry Christmas! But forget the tea. We're having mimosas this morning." I poured the champagne, topping it with a drop of orange juice."

"More juice, please. I have a long day ahead. The turkey is in the large oven and the geese are also prepared. I'm doing a ham too especially for Pinto."

"Why Pinto?"

"Well, he asked if we were having ham so I couldn't really say no. Although we'll eat at the table I'm preparing a buffet due to the many choices. It just makes sense. Open your gift please, Sophie."

Inside the tissue paper was a gorgeous lambskin Chanel bag with a gold chain strap. "It's exquisite, Pots! You couldn't have picked anything I'd like better."

"I know. It had your name on it. It called out to me through the shop window. It said, 'Get me for Sophie!'

"I love it!" I rose to give her a hug. "Yours is under the tree," I lied. "It's a bit buried but you'll eventually work through the pile."

"I'm not worried, Sophie. I know you didn't have time to shop. I'm just happy that you're home safe and sound."

With that she left, leaving me to fret over what in my possession I could possibly pass along to her. I didn't even have money. I repacked my lovely bag and took it to the bedroom where the big lump in my bed was snoring. My cell rang.

"You won't believe the mess they sent up for breakfast, Sophie!" Victoria was in a tizzy. "The boy called it a 'fry-up' but it's ghastly. The eggs are almost raw and there's greasy bacon and soggy toast. It's pitiful."

I smiled. "I have a kitchenette in my suite, Victoria. I can make you dry toast if you like. And I also have melon. Would that do?"

"Yes, please. I'll be right there. Jason is still sleeping but Rocco's here. Can he come too? He won't eat his fry-up either."

"Of course. Come for mimosas and we'll figure the rest out together."

Victoria and Rocco, both dressed in red lounging outfits, arrived with a gift bag. "From the two of us." Victoria adjusted the silly black veil. "From Barcelona. We had time to kill while waiting for our flight." Accepting their drinks, they perched together on the floral loveseat eagerly awaiting my response. "Open it!"

Inside a blue velvet box lay an antique diamond and ruby pin. "It's beautiful! Exquisite. Divine."

They sat back with great broad smiles on their faces. "We thought you'd like it," Rocco said. "It kinda looks like you. Delicate. Ethereal."

My mind went racing for a handle, a lever, anything to save me. "I have presents for you too. Victoria's is here but Rocco will have to wait for his."

His bottom lip dropped.

"You'll like it though, Rocco. But Victoria first. I retrieved Potsy's gift bag from the bedroom. "I hope you like it."

Victoria had never looked happier. "Chanel! It's absolutely perfect for me!" She lovingly caressed the lambskin bag with her fingers. "How did you know?"

I could feel my face growing red. "I didn't exactly. I just hoped." I was such a liar! I was going straight to hell.

Rocco was in a pout. "What did you get me, Sophie?"

"Well... while I don't physically have it in my hands, I thought you and Jason might like a trip to Tuscany. There's a lovely villa there that I rent in January. I'm not going this year so I thought perhaps..."

He jumped to his feet. "Tuscany? I'd love to go. Jay will too. Thank you, Sophie!" He hugged my head before bouncing around the room. "Thank you! It's exactly what we need. Tuscany. To rekindle our romance!"

Hopefully I'd have money by January. And hopefully Jason would still be around. From my perspective, he'd been drooling over Todd from the moment he laid eyes on him, to no avail, of course. Todd was straighter than a flag pole.

At that moment, Suki decided to leave my bed and upon spying her former owners, hurled her fat body through the air, landing on Victoria's lap. As Victoria began to stroke her she settled in to purr. "Where's her collar?"

"It's here. She's still settling in so I haven't bothered her yet. It's quite a production."

"Would you mind getting it, Sophie? I'd like her to wear it on Christmas day. Since we'll all be dressing up she should too."

I rescued the blue box from a bedroom drawer thinking, better Victoria than me. Ironically, Suki didn't protest as she had done with Rocco. Victoria easily managed to fasten the diamond collar with the little ruby heart and Suki went back to purring on her lap.

During this intimate celebration, I had an ah-hah moment. Although I'd been to Mars there was no place on earth I'd rather be then in my own home with my new eccentric friends, who were almost like me. What were the chances of finding two similar people on the planet?

It was about to be a long, eventful day. Pinto opened the bar at four, since people had been drifting in and out with nothing much to do. I hadn't anything red to wear so I chose my favorite color black. It was the short smart frock, in fact, that I'd worn on the reality show, its v-neckline plunging to the waist and a short frilly skirt barely covering my pubs. Potsy arrived just as I was about to practice walking in my Vivienne Westwood five-inch heels.

"You look stunning, Sophie! And I can't thank you enough for the beautiful broach I'm again wearing today. I've loved it for years." She was wearing her traditional Christmas tree pin with the rubies and emeralds, as I dearly hoped she would. Finger crossed. Prayers.

"Henry and I gave it to you. The year that mother died."

"Right. I absolutely love it. And do you want to know why?"

I nodded. "I know why. Because I wrote the card from Henry, Elizabeth and Sophie."

"Because it had been Elizabeth's pin."

"And you had always loved it. She wanted you to have it."

Tears sprang to our eyes as we hugged.

Todd accosted me as I was about to enter the sitting room. "Why are you hiding on me? I called you and I texted you and nothing. Is it something I've done?"

I squeezed his arm. "It isn't, Todd. It's something David has done and I'm still bitter. I'm not good for anyone right now. You deserve better. You don't deserve an angry old woman."

"Ah, thirty is old? I only wish I was thirty again."

"You're thirty-eight. Not exactly ancient. I know you're ugly but perhaps there's a chance some desperate woman will nab you. "

He laughed his sexy laugh. Todd Aimes didn't need anyone's approval, being drop dead gorgeous. There wasn't a more beautiful head above a red cashmere pullover on the planet, in fact. Victoria was eyeing him from across the room. "What do you think of my friend Victoria?"

"I think she's very strange. Putting it politely. It's hard to imagine the two of you as friends."

"Truthfully? It took a while. She hated me at first."

"For being normal, likely."

"Victoria thinks she's the normal one."

"Well, that's worth another drink."

After acquiring a martini from Pinto I finally had time to talk to his brother, who was simply a younger version of himself. "I've been a bad host, I'm afraid, Connor. I've neglected you."

"Not at all. I've been hanging out with Rocco and Jason. Rocco said that you were a snob and wouldn't like me at all." His eyes twinkled.

"That's so he could have you for himself. Rocco doesn't like to share good-looking men."

"I like you, Sophie. Keep the compliments flowing."

"I hear you're going to play pro football in the US. Congratulations. That's quite a feat with all the competition out there."

He nodded. "I'm the best. And I'm not humble about it either. If I wasn't the best I'd make it anyway because my brother would buy a team and name me quarterback."

"It must be tough to be you. Good looking, athletic, wealthy."

"I can hardly stand myself."

When the call came for the buffet at seven we were all pretty loaded. Wine steward number three met me in the dining room archway. "Is there anyone I should go lightly on? There was quite a noise coming from the library. A lot of loud laughter."

"That older lady, Jessica? The one dripping in diamonds? She's only had a couple. Keep them coming for her. Otherwise serve as usual. Empty glass. More wine."

"You're funny."

"I'm drunk. I had three martinis."

With the plates filled and places at the table taken, as per the evening before, we were happily munching away when Jessica said. "This isn't your best cooking, Isabelle. The turkey is dry and the stuffing is sticking to the roof of my mouth. The gravy is lumpy too. Really! You can do much better than this. Perhaps I should pay for cooking lessons if that would help."

Right, then. Jessica, being a miser, wouldn't even pay to heat her drafty old mansion. But

Potsy kept her humor. "Why don't you try the ethnic dishes that Azam has prepared, Jessica. I know how much you like foreign food."

Jessica shut up.

It was only then that I noticed my undoing. Potsy had changed attire and was now wearing the antique diamond pin given to me by Rocco and Victoria. Damn! I thought I'd hidden it well under that tree. She wasn't supposed to get through that great pile of gifts so quickly. I choked on my roasted potato. Hawk-eyed Victoria was quick to notice the exact same thing. "That's a lovely pin, Potsy. Is it an heirloom by chance?" She glared at me.

Rocco drunkenly chimed in. "I can't believe it! That's exactly like the pin Victoria and I picked out for Sophie in Barcelona. I can't believe there are two!"

Victoria glared at him. "It's one of a kind, Rocco."

Blood came gushing into my face. I looked under the table for a place to crawl.

"Well..." Potsy said in a flat voice. "Sophie was kind enough to loan this gem to me today since she's wearing mostly breasts and has no room for it herself. She wanted the two of you to know just how marvelous it looks on a lady."

Zing. I went sliding down in my chair.

Potsy wasn't finished. "I've had the most amazing Christmas this year. And Victoria, I want to thank you so very much for the lovely Chanel lambskin bag. I've always wanted one."

Victoria and I locked eyes. Then we started to laugh. It seemed that we were a lot more alike than anybody knew. She raised her glass. "I want to propose a toast to Sophie. She's an amazing woman through and through. Not many people get ahead of me but my hat goes off to Sophie."

Glasses clinked. "To Sophie!"

Since she was still wearing the silly black headgear I toasted back. "I'll see your five and raise you ten. And I'll take that silly black hat."

Victoria rose to her feet, plucked the hat from her head, and threw it into the air. "I'm not wishing anyone bad luck but you'd be wise not to catch the bouquet." Happy applause, especially after her offering landed atop the chandelier.

I'd been trying for some time to include Edward in the conversation but he seemed only too happy to be ignored. David helped by deciding to announce Kasha's pregnancy. He stood up, glass in hand. "I want to propose a toast to my lovely fiancé and future wife, Kasha. And to our baby, en route."

Edward looked confused. "What baby?"

"Kasha is pregnant," I told him. "She's going to have a baby."

His mouth fell open. "Pwegnant? Kasha's pwegnat? Am I one of the dads?"

All right, then. Kasha pushed back her chair and raced from the room like a roadrunner. David followed behind.

Edward looked confused. "I was just joking! Everyone is joking so why not me? That blond lady even threw her burka away."

I coughed. "That wasn't a very good joke, Edward, since you did smoke weed with Kasha after my dad's wake. David knows that so he's always been a little suspicious of what happened that night in the guesthouse."

Edward giggled. "We just got stupid! And then she staggered home. She's too tall for me, Sophie. And too old."

"Kasha is nineteen. Your exact age."

He vehemently nodded. "That's what I mean! She's way too old. I'm going to marry a virgin."

Victoria's rich throaty laugh rang through the dining room and into the hallowed halls. "I hope I'm invited to the wedding, Edward."

I raised my glass. "To Edward and his future bride."

Rocco chimed in. "To Edward and his virgin!"

Glasses clinked all around except for Jessica whose face had fallen into her plate.

In the aftermath the stalwart gathered for cognac in the library.

"I like Todd," Victoria confided in me. She was leaning against me on the sofa, a bit drunk. All right. A lot drunk.

Todd and Pinto were eyeing us up from the bar.

"Have you told him?"

"I tried but he won't speak to me. When I approach him he runs away."

"Really? That's not very nice."

"No. I may have to have Chauffeur break his legs."

"Chauffeur's not here, Victoria."

She hiccupped. "He's on call. Chauffeur is always on call."

"Across the Atlantic?"

"You're naive, Sophie. Chauffeur is sleeping in my bed."

Eavesdropping near-by, Rocco was cracking up. "She's tanked, Sophie. The only thing in Victoria's bed is a dildo."

Victoria started to snore.

I felt like the queen with a long reception line awaiting my attention in the master suite. Courtesy, anyone?

Potsy was the first to arrive with tea. "Time to sober up, Sophie."

"It's Christmas Day night, Pots. I'll have a coffee, thank you. A Spanish coffee from my machine. With a lot of whipped cream and booze."

She laid my mum's silver tray on the ottoman. "If I make us one will you promise it's your last tonight?"

"Absolutely. You know how honest I am." I couldn't stop giggling.

"Right. Like your Christmas present go around. Thanks, Sophie. It was a great thrill to get the lovely Chanel bag I gave to you back." Nevertheless, she proceeded to produce two amazing coffees.

"I thought about stealing something for you, Pots. Really I did. But I just didn't have time."

Taking the stuffed chintz chair across from me she laughed. "You're evil, Sophie. I suppose it's what I've always liked about you most. Yes. You got set on your arse. Not for long, though. And I do know that presently you haven't any money. So, I shall be giving you back the broach and the bag. With a caveat, however. You have to promise me to straighten up."

Since we'd both fallen into gales of laughter it didn't take much for Suki to hurl her fat body through the air and to land on Potsy's lap.

Potsy stiffened like a statue. "Does this horrid creature not know that I don't like cats?"

"Apparently not. She thinks you don't like bears so she's exempt."

Laughing, Potsy dared to stroke Suki's head. "Do you suppose there's such a thing as a bearcat? And will you please lift this great huge thing off my lap so I can go off to bed?"

Pinto was the next to arrive, following his urgent text. _Need to see you fast._ After perching on the edge of the loveseat he said, "I'll put Connor on a plane to Boston in the morning but I'm afraid I have to leave directly after that, lovely Sophie."

I nodded. "Diamond thieves to shoot?"

"No. Government. There's a coup and we have to help thwart it. Sorry. You know I'll stay in touch."

"I do know. Stay safe, my friend." It was the longest, hardest hug I've experienced.

Not for Todd to be ignored. Shortly after Pinto's departure he stuck his head in the doorway. "Well, I'm off to America it seems. Tarantino is throwing a New Year's Eve bash and apparently I'm invited. Can you believe it? I'm such a bloody fraud!"

We hugged. "No, you're not. You're a great actor. You'll make him famous."

"Right. Like nobody's ever heard of him there. Or anywhere else."

"Just wait until the great Todd Aimes hits American Cinema. Olivier they'll be saying."

"Right. More like Mr. Bean."

"Really? If Omar Sharif and Elizabeth Taylor had had a baby... well, that would be you."

"Sure you don't want to come along with me? We'd have a smashing time."

"Truthfully? I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything. But right now? I just know that I'll miss that gorgeous face."

By the time Kasha arrived I was lying on the floor, face down, talking to my poor dead dog. "Why did you die, Spot? Why did you have to die? Hmm. Let me see. Spot died at fourteen. Today he would have been thirty, two hundred and ten in dog years. Or was that two thousand and ten? Spot? Why did you have to die?" I tried to pass out but horrible Suki was sitting on my neck. "Get off me!" I yelled. "Get off me you fucking great bear!"

"Uh. Sophie? Why are you lying on the floor?"

I raised my eyes to Kasha's knees. "I lost something. I just can't remember what it was."

She helped me sit up. "You're drunk, Sophie."

I threw the only arm with any feeling into the air. "Rhodes Scholar! You get the prize."

She propped me up against the sofa before taking the opposite chair. "I've never seen you drunk, Sophie."

"Take pictures. Then blackmail me. Sell them to tabloids." My head bobbed.

"You don't think much of me, do you?"

I tried to focus on her face. "Doesn't matter what I think. Truce for Christmas. Wanna drink?"

"I don't think so. I think one of us has had quite enough."

"Shame. You're not suppose to drink when you're pregnant, Kasha." I burped.

"That's what I came to tell you, Sophie. I'm not pregnant."

"Not?"

"I wish you were sober so I could explain."

Suki had decided to lie on my stomach now, causing the room to spin around. "Talk to my cat. She's sympathetic."

"That's a very horrible cat, Sophie. Huge and ugly. I can't believe you brought it home from Canada."

"Canadian's are horrible. Very huge and ugly. Suki is a prototype."

"You're not funny."

I disagreed. "Go to Canada. See for yourself. Babies there weigh twenty-seven pounds at birth."

"Not funny."

"It's the winters there. One needs a lot of blubber to fend off the cold."

"I'm going to get you a blanket," was the last thing I remember.

Boxing Day. Headache day. I awoke with a whopper. Suki followed me into the shower where I had trouble staying on my feet. "Did I have a good Christmas, Suki?"

She hissed.

"That bad, huh?"

She barked.

"Exactly! Did I have sex with anyone do you happen to know?"

She hissed, barked and spat.

"I didn't think so."

After throwing on a terry jumpsuit I called on my amazing Oracle machine to cough up a cappuccino.

'That was quite an orgy, Lady. I'm surprised you survived.'

__ "Get back in the book, Hector. I don't need advice."

'That's good because you're not going to get it. Orgies end in sex and you blacked out. You're a wimp, Lady.'

"So I've been told. But for your information I'm starting today. Rampant sex. With every man in sight."

'That must be why they're leaving here in droves. The actor has gone with his mother. And the big black man has gone too, along with his brother and your friend with the long red hair."

"Kasha has gone?"

_'She left with the black men._ _She likes the young one. If clinging onto an arm is a clue in your strange society.'_

OMG. She tried to tell me but I'd been too impaired to listen. "Is there anybody left?"

'The blond man with the pale skin is still here. He's crying. And the foreigners still but they're packing up.'

My heart sank. Rats were leaving the sinking ship. __ "David is crying?"

'Oh, yes. He's a crybaby. I could have given him something to cry about but then I thought you wouldn't particularly like that. And then maybe you wouldn't like me.'

"I already don't like you, Hector."

'You like me. And I'm soon to be the only man in this house. Soon there'll just be an old cook, a hideous baby tiger, and a figment of your imagination.

David appeared in the doorway, tears welling in his eyes. "She left me, Soph. She left me for that black football player. She wasn't pregnant at all. She just made it up when he wouldn't commit. But now he has. Now he says that she can live with Pinto and they'll commute back and forth." He collapsed into a chair. "I'm devastated."

"I can see that. Would you like a cappuccino? With Irish Cream perhaps?"

"Yes, please. A lot of Irish Crème. I'm devastated."

"Why don't I just pour you a tumbler of Irish Crème?"

"That will be lovely. With ice please. I'm devastated."

I handed him his poison. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Nobody can help. I'm off to Tuscany this afternoon. By myself it now seems."

"I see. To our rented villa then?"

"Yes. I can't stay here, I assume."

"You assume correctly.

"I'm devastated. I'll be off to Tuscany, then, if you're not going."

"I think that's brilliant! You'll have a wonderful time there in January. Likely a few surprises too."

"You know I don't like surprises, Soph. I'll just mope about."

I choked back the giggles. Mope about with Rocco and Jason and whatever riffraff they'll be dragging in. "And our finances?"

"Tomorrow. I'll free things up tomorrow. I'm no longer interested in Henry's money. He left me a generous amount."

With the last of the Christmas guests safely out the door Potsy and I retired to the library, feet up.

"You knew, didn't you, Sophie?"

"Hmm?

"You knew. You knew that if you invited Connor here for the holiday Kasha would succumb. Both of them young and attractive and with similar interests."

'No. I didn't, actually. I only wished."

"You haven't had all that many wishes fulfilled lately, have you dear?"

I thought about it. "Only the ones that count."

Epilogue

Suki had no trouble settling in. Soon she'd monopolized the kitchen island, much to Potsy's chagrin. She wasn't chained to it either. No, she was having much too much fun chasing the cook around, hissing and barking at her heels. Ironically, I was now the recipient of multiple meows. Feed me. Change my litter. Wipe my blooming arse. And yes, the Queen of Cats had abandoned her little bed and was now monopolizing mine. Not alone, however. She was now dragging Churchill with her everywhere, often shaking her for no apparent reason, other than for a game of cat and lesser cat. So much for all that plastic surgery, Victoria. Churchill was a mess.

The evening the reality show aired, mid-February, I threw myself a party. I dressed in the drop-dead-gorgeous black dress I'd worn on the show and ordered up a kitchen feast from Potsy, an actual cook. It was to be a Sophie party with plenty of Beefeater, Tangueray and Bombay Sapphire gin. And champagne for the sissies although I hadn't invited any. No, Sophie would watch her humiliating television debut alone.

Good choice. While Victoria appeared glamorous, as always, Rocco looked like dodgy Dracula in drag. And he even looked better than I did, which says a lot. Damn. Sufficient to say that after considering important matters, such as slicing off my head and smashing all my teeth as it rolled around on the floor, I slipped into a coma under a pile of quilts on the library sofa.

"You look beautiful," said Potsy, because I paid her to. "Smashing, really."

"Really? You don't think I look fat?"

She laughed. "If five stones is fat then well, yes. I guess you do."

"What about wrinkles? I'm aging, don't you think?"

She laughed again. "Wrinkles on your arse, maybe. But you have none on your face. You're not old enough to have wrinkles."

"They're coming. I can feel them now. Creeping up slowly for a surprise attack. Ambush! That's what they're saying to me."

"You need to stop being silly, Sophie. Come out of there and watch the rest of the show. You're a very beautiful woman."

"Raise!" I hollered. "You tricked me again!"

Slowly I dared to sneak a peek. And there sat Antonio, the murderer, looking fantastic. I imagined women right around the globe salivating and hallucinating and men too. More gin. From the bottle. Glug. Glug. Glug. What? Was that black-eyed Oilwell Omar? I could actually smell him. He smelled of pine needles, fresh oregano leaves, and homemade soap. I wanted to cry. Glug. Glug. Glug.

Rocco was the first to text. _I am the uncontested star!_

Of what? Canary Island?

:>( _You depress me. But then you always did. Good news from Barbados, though! Victoria has purchased a yacht! Mostly for me!_

That's terrific news, Rocco. What are you planning to do with it?

I'm going to hook up with J. I know he'll love my yacht.

Jason had taken off again, right after their decadent holiday in Tuscany where they'd apparently had a super time with David.

Victoria was next to text.

Wasn't I incredible? I don't know that I've ever looked more beautiful.

You looked a bit sloshed to me.

I liked you better when you were a cook.

What is it that Rocco always says? Bite me?

Surprise! Wedding this year. At Christmastime. You'll come, of course.

Of course! I'd never miss one of your Christmas weddings, Victoria. Naturally, I'll come. Who's the unfortunate groom?

We haven't met yet. But he's on my radar.

Just then my iPhone rang. "Sophie? Is this beautiful Sophie?"

"No," I replied. "This is Sonya, Sophie's sister. Sophie has gone out for the year. Possibly to the moon."

"That's too bad then. I was hoping she'd have dinner with me tomorrow night. Is it possible to give her a message? From Michel?"

"Oh!" I squealed. "You won't believe this but she just got back. God trip, luv? Any comets?" Garbled noises. "Sophie here. Hello."

"You're very funny. Do you think you might squeeze me in? For dinner in Madrid?"

"Well, I already have three dates. But I suppose I could cancel. I could possibly meet you at midnight in a small café."

"Good, then. I'll send a driver for you at three. And I'll await your arrival on my private jet. We'll have dinner in Madrid and then Venice the following night."

Well, knock me down with an eyelash. Ridiculous. "Venice? Venice? What Venice? What's wrong with cod and chips?"

"If you like we can have cod and chips in Venice. And then onto Cairo. And how do you feel about Cape Town next week?"

"Is that all you have to offer? Is it to be a one-week stand, then? Is that how little you think of me?"

He laughed that familiar rich laugh. "It can be one week, one year... Whatever you decide upon. It will be entirely up to you."

"I can't go!" I blurted out. "I almost forgot. My life has changed. I am now the owner of a rather precious cat. Yes, that's it. I can't go at all. Surely you understand?"

"I understand fear. But I think we should take a chance, Sophie. What have we got to lose?"

"A cat, actually. She won't behave for anyone else but me. She won't eat and quite frankly, she can't afford to lose weight." Well, not more than two stones, anyway.

"What if we bring in a professional cat sitter? Someone who can speak cat language and entertain her while you're away? Their work is guaranteed."

"Guaranteed, is it? Does that mean I get my money back if my cat dies?"

"You're complicating this, Sophie. We can always send for the cat. Or, come back to her. Why won't you just admit that you're crazy about me and you'd love to come away? For a very long time. I want to be with you, Sophie. You are absolutely the only woman for me."

My heart went racing ka-thump, ka-thump. "Wait. I'm thinking. I suppose... If you accept me, and my horrid cat in future... without conditions... then I just may have to come away. Maybe."

"It's a date then. I look forward to tomorrow. Oh, and Sophie?"

"Yes?"

"You looked absolutely smashing on TV."
