I saw the über-rich Ford Bronson taking his regular evening jog along the harbor’s southern promenade. I waved, he waved. But he kept on moving, probably in a hurry to finish his run and get back to making billions.
By the time Bonz and I returned to the Merilee , Linda and Heck had retired to their respective boats, and peace reigned once again. Having already showered at the zoo—I’d long ago transformed the Merilee ’s tiny shower into a closet—I dressed in my latest wardrobe addition from Sissie’s Second-Hand Stash, an ankle-length cheongsam. Although the dress’ bright crimson clashed badly with my orange-red hair, I knew Joe would appreciate the slit up the side. All gussied up, I went on deck and relaxed with a glass of Riesling and awaited his arrival.
Unfortunately, Mother arrived first. I knew why she was here. Yesterday morning, before I’d left for the zoo, I’d called and told her what happened, stressing that Kate’s drowning was an accident. After recovering from her shock at a death taking place so close to the Merilee , she asked if I’d hurt myself dragging the body out of the dirty harbor water. I assured her I was fine, but given our past history, I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.
As always, Mother looked beautiful and was dressed far, far better than I. Rocking a beige Proenza Schouler crêpe de Chine pants suit accessorized by a gold and ivory Galliano necklace and a green-striped Balenciaga tote with matching espadrilles, she was the very picture of Central Coast chic. The only thing strange thing about her ensemble was Mr. Trifle, her new Chihuahua, who was poking his trembling head out of the Balenciaga. His beige jacket and beret perfectly matched her own.
“Hi, Mother. Want some Riesling?”
“Theodora, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Caro? ‘Mother’ is so aging. And no, I don’t want any Riesling, since you never serve anything other than the cheap stuff.” Sermon delivered, she perched her size two butt on a deck chair, but only after dusting it off with a monogrammed hanky.
“That so-called ‘cheap stuff’ is all I can afford.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. I keep a marvelous cellar.”
Here we go again. Since I’d taken up residence on the Merilee last year, Caro had started nagging me to move back into the family home in the Old Town section of Gunn Landing. She not only considered my job beneath the dignity of a Bentley, but feared that the work was too dangerous for her precious only child. Every time an animal so much as sneezed on me, she renewed her pleas.
“I don’t need a marvelous cellar, Caro.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t. This Riesling is delicious.” I found it peculiar that she had nothing to say about my appearance on Good Morning, San Sebastian , because she never missed the program. Maybe she thought that a Bentley getting pooped on in full view of several hundred thousand viewers was beneath mention.
“Your taste buds have atrophied, Theodora.”
“No, they’re…Say, Joe’s on his way over,” I said, to break up the monotony.
“That awful sheriff of yours? I don’t want to talk about him. I’m just here to remind you that you promised to attend my soirée Friday night. Considering the state of your wardrobe…” She flicked a disapproving eye at my crimson cheongsam, “…I bought you something nice to wear. When I was in Monterey yesterday, I saw this adorable Basso & Brooke that had you written all over it, so I snapped it up. Multiprint gauze over black silk, with a sweetheart neckline. Devastating. You must come up to the house and see it.” She glanced around my boat and sniffed. “Since you don’t have room for it here.”
For some time Caro had been attempting to marry me off to someone she believed was more suitable for a Bentley; thus the endless soirées where she introduced me to a string of eligible bachelors. While I enjoyed our visits, I liked “that awful
By the time Bonz and I returned to the Merilee , Linda and Heck had retired to their respective boats, and peace reigned once again. Having already showered at the zoo—I’d long ago transformed the Merilee ’s tiny shower into a closet—I dressed in my latest wardrobe addition from Sissie’s Second-Hand Stash, an ankle-length cheongsam. Although the dress’ bright crimson clashed badly with my orange-red hair, I knew Joe would appreciate the slit up the side. All gussied up, I went on deck and relaxed with a glass of Riesling and awaited his arrival.
Unfortunately, Mother arrived first. I knew why she was here. Yesterday morning, before I’d left for the zoo, I’d called and told her what happened, stressing that Kate’s drowning was an accident. After recovering from her shock at a death taking place so close to the Merilee , she asked if I’d hurt myself dragging the body out of the dirty harbor water. I assured her I was fine, but given our past history, I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.
As always, Mother looked beautiful and was dressed far, far better than I. Rocking a beige Proenza Schouler crêpe de Chine pants suit accessorized by a gold and ivory Galliano necklace and a green-striped Balenciaga tote with matching espadrilles, she was the very picture of Central Coast chic. The only thing strange thing about her ensemble was Mr. Trifle, her new Chihuahua, who was poking his trembling head out of the Balenciaga. His beige jacket and beret perfectly matched her own.
“Hi, Mother. Want some Riesling?”
“Theodora, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Caro? ‘Mother’ is so aging. And no, I don’t want any Riesling, since you never serve anything other than the cheap stuff.” Sermon delivered, she perched her size two butt on a deck chair, but only after dusting it off with a monogrammed hanky.
“That so-called ‘cheap stuff’ is all I can afford.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. I keep a marvelous cellar.”
Here we go again. Since I’d taken up residence on the Merilee last year, Caro had started nagging me to move back into the family home in the Old Town section of Gunn Landing. She not only considered my job beneath the dignity of a Bentley, but feared that the work was too dangerous for her precious only child. Every time an animal so much as sneezed on me, she renewed her pleas.
“I don’t need a marvelous cellar, Caro.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t. This Riesling is delicious.” I found it peculiar that she had nothing to say about my appearance on Good Morning, San Sebastian , because she never missed the program. Maybe she thought that a Bentley getting pooped on in full view of several hundred thousand viewers was beneath mention.
“Your taste buds have atrophied, Theodora.”
“No, they’re…Say, Joe’s on his way over,” I said, to break up the monotony.
“That awful sheriff of yours? I don’t want to talk about him. I’m just here to remind you that you promised to attend my soirée Friday night. Considering the state of your wardrobe…” She flicked a disapproving eye at my crimson cheongsam, “…I bought you something nice to wear. When I was in Monterey yesterday, I saw this adorable Basso & Brooke that had you written all over it, so I snapped it up. Multiprint gauze over black silk, with a sweetheart neckline. Devastating. You must come up to the house and see it.” She glanced around my boat and sniffed. “Since you don’t have room for it here.”
For some time Caro had been attempting to marry me off to someone she believed was more suitable for a Bentley; thus the endless soirées where she introduced me to a string of eligible bachelors. While I enjoyed our visits, I liked “that awful
Similar Books
