However, after Stella slipped out with Bobby, the family Smithsonian did, remarkably, what they did best. Denial. They said nothing. And Lacey said nothing. They went on with their evening as if nothing at all had happened. Rose and Cherise inspected the apartment at length and murmured here and there. They oohed and aahed over the balcony and Lacey’s famous view down the Potomac River toward Mount Vernon. They shook their heads sympathetically over the lack of closet space. Lacey had done her best to clear the spare bedroom for company. It looked less like her personal dressing room, office, library, and walk-in closet, and more like a guest bedroom. And she had shoved her computer, Tony’s old laptop, under her own bed for safekeeping.
Let ’em Google me when they get home.
They swore they liked her trundle bed and that it would do perfectly fine. Cherise chose the lower pullout bed, and her mother the upper. Yet there was room for improvement, her mother said. “Lacey, if we just turn everything around and put the beds over there, the sunlight won’t wake us in the morning. This direction is east, isn’t it?”
Lacey excused herself and ran to the bathroom, which was full of new fluffy, clean towels and French milled soaps. She opened the medicine cabinet and cracked open a bottle of Advil for the tension headache that was squeezing the back of her neck like a vise.
“Are we driving you crazy?” Cherise followed her in.
“No, no, just sinuses,” Lacey fibbed. They returned to the living room.
“You know, dear,” her mother said, “if we just rearranged the furniture in here, we could create intimate conversation areas.”
“I like it the way it is, really. Open. Spacious.”
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Cherise said. “And you know, everything is brown this year. Naturals are back; what’s with all this blue?”
“Has it been outlawed? Are there blue laws?” No one laughed. They didn’t get it. “Anyway, I’m not a brown sort of person.”
“You could be a little more open-minded.” Cherise sniffed. “How about sage?”
“Maybe we could just move the furniture around to get an idea of what it might look like,” her mother offered.
Cut them off at the pass,
Lacey thought,
or they’ll trap you in a box canyon.
“Maybe later. Why don’t we think about dinner?” A loud knock on the door interrupted her.
Now what? And when will they fix the front door?
“I’ll get it.” She started for the door. “Why don’t we call for pizza? The Domino’s number is on the fridge. No weird stuff, like pineapple.” Cherise was just the type to inappropriately slap fruit on top of a pizza because it was
healthier
that way.
“I could just whip up something homemade,” Rose said. “My meat loaf—”
“No!” Lacey nearly yelled, then added, “You’re not here to slave in the kitchen, Mom. Pizza’s always a treat.”
Nothing but evil carbohydrates.
The knock came again. She looked through the peephole at her visitor, opened her eyes wide, then opened the door and slipped into the hall, quietly closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here?” she practically hissed at the man who usually made her toes curl.
“Meeting your family, of course.” His wavy hair was wind-tossed, and his eyes danced with amusement.
“Why? I haven’t met your father. Or your mother.”
“Name the date, sweetheart. They’ll be crazy about you.” Vic gave her a lazy smile and leaned against the doorjamb, temptingly close to her. “I brought you some flowers.” He handed her a lovely bouquet of day lilies, peach-colored roses, and white daisies. The first flowers he’d ever given her, she realized, and they should have made her happier. But with the kind of day she was having, he would have to offer to run away to Paris with her on the spot.
“The flowers are beautiful,” she said, then shook her head. “Men, you just never pay attention, do you?”
“Don’t you want to see me, Lacey?”
Vic stroked her face. He leaned in for a kiss. She leaned in too. His leather jacket was slung over his shoulder, and he was looking damn good in his jeans. His soft blue chambray shirt was open at the neck, and the sleeves were folded back, exposing his tanned muscles. She was also aware that he smelled good. But the mood didn’t last. “What about Montana?”
“She’s at a hotel in the District. Dad drove her in today.”
“I’m so glad you found a room at the inn for that poor shy girl, stammering around strangers the way she does.” Lacey remembered Montana from Sagebrush, Colorado. Montana was no shrinking violet; she was aggressively blond and busty and leggy, and she had a reputation as a hard-partying good-time gal, especially when she was divorcing Vic. Lobbying for Colorado’s cattlemen was probably a good use for her, although Lacey could think of a few other good uses. Lacey folded her arms and leaned against the door. “I can’t believe you came over here.”
“How could I ignore the challenge you laid at my feet?”
“What challenge?”
“To meet your family. Why, Lacey? What haven’t you told me about them? Do they have two heads, green scales, cloven hooves? What kind of sniveling coward would I be to run away from your family of fire-breathing dragons?”
“You wouldn’t be a coward to honor my wishes. And to answer your question, they’re like everybody else’s family. They drive me crazy, they want to run my life, and they ask too many questions. And after Stella spilled the beans about the Manville murder, which really thrilled my mother, I don’t need any more complications, thank you very much.”
He moved in closer. “So I’m a complication?”
She stood her ground. “And how. My mother doesn’t need to know these things. Besides, you’re always busy doing God knows what to protect the national security, and now suddenly you have a whole evening just for me?”
He looked serious and gave her a hug. “No, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m sorry about that, Lacey. I just came to show you that the idea of your family doesn’t scare me. And to say hello to them.”
“And cause trouble.”
“What kind of trouble? Lacey, let me come inside. Besides, they always tell you to get a good look at your girlfriend’s mother. As a preview.”
“They? Who are they?”
He was about to push open the door behind her when Cherise stuck her head out the door.
“Lacey, pizza’s on the way. They said they know you—Whoa. What’s going on?” She took one look at Vic and her eyes went wide too. “Well. Hello.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Lacey said.
“Hi, I’m Vic Donovan. Friend of Lacey’s.” He put his hand out for her to shake, and Cherise noticed the flowers Lacey was holding.
“Ooh, flowers! You must be the boyfriend we haven’t heard about!” She stuck her head back in the apartment and bellowed, “Mom!”
“In a minute, Cherise. Go,” Lacey pleaded with Vic, but it was no use. Her mother appeared at the door.
“What’s going on out there?” Rose said. “It’s getting lonely in here.”
Lacey, her eyebrow raised dangerously high, shot a warning look at Vic. But he was entirely too pleased with himself. “This is Victor Donovan.” Lacey made introductions. “My mother, Rose Smithsonian, and this is Cherise, my adorable little sister.”
“Well, what’s everybody doing out in the hall?” Rose said. “Come on in.” She snatched the flowers out of Lacey’s hands. “These are beautiful; they belong in some water.” She hustled them all inside and told Lacey to get a vase. “How nice of you to stop by, Mr. Donovan. Victor.”
“Call me Vic.”
“We’re having pizza, Vic. You will join us, won’t you?”
“He already told me he hasn’t much time,” Lacey said. “He just wanted to meet you.”
“That’s so thoughtful,” Rose said. “Won’t you sit—”
“But now he has to go,” Lacey added, shooing Vic back toward the door. The last thing she wanted now was the dreaded boyfriend interrogation.
“A piece of pizza sounds good, Lacey.” He shot her his sexy, appealing smile, but she wasn’t buying it. “I’m sure I could stay for that.” He put his arm around her shoulder.
I give up.
“Cherise,” Lacey said, “would you set the table, please? I want to show Vic something important. On the balcony.”
“Oh, no problem.”
Cherise and Rose looked terribly interested in the balcony, but Lacey said, “Alone.” She opened the door, pulled him out, and shut the door behind them.
“It’s a beautiful night, Lacey. And you know, they seem perfectly normal. Even charming. Imagine that.”
“You’re so funny.” Through the glass she caught her mother and sister chatting companionably. “Thanks for giving them another topic of conversation, not that they needed it.”
“It can’t be all-killers-all-the-time, you know. What’s the problem, Lacey? I like them. And they’ll like me. After all, you like me.”
“Oh, be quiet,” she begged.
“Come here.” He moved her to the secluded end of the balcony, where they couldn’t be spied on. “That’s better. I guess I really picked the wrong weekend to spirit you away.”
“If I survive this visit, how about next weekend?”
“Sounds good to me. So, Stella spilled the beans?” He looked amused.
“Radio Free Stella. I’m trying not to blame her. Gossip is in her blood; it’s what she lives for. She really should be on the air instead of in my hair.”
Vic drew Lacey to him, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her. “I also came over because I need to know that you are safe while this nutcase is running around loose.”
“As you can see, I’m here, safe and sound, wrapped in the bosom of my family.”
“And you can promise me that they aren’t . . . well, prone to getting into trouble?”
“Like me? Is that what you mean, Vic? Don’t worry.” She broke away from him. “My mother has already informed me I am not to play around with killers or other unsuitable companions this weekend, which probably means you should leave now.”
“She’s my kind of gal.” He kissed her again. “How long can we stay out here before the pizza arrives? Will they miss us?”
Lacey looked through the window. “Oh, no!”
“What?” Vic was on alert, ready to protect her.
“They’re rearranging my furniture!” She opened the door, ready to lay down the law to her would-be decorators, when Vic put a restraining hand on her arm.
“You can move it back when they’re gone. Why raise a ruckus?”
“You don’t understand. Paint chips will be next, then wallpaper samples, and then kidney-shaped coffee tables.”
“They’re just having fun.”
“How come you are never such a diplomat when it comes to me?” Lacey stepped inside, followed by Vic. Her mother was shoving a chair into a new place. She stood up, put her hands on her hips, and smiled brightly at Lacey.
“See. An intimate conversation area. Isn’t this fun?”
Aunt Mimi’s trunk, her pride and joy and the centerpiece of the room, was now shoved behind the sofa, which was no longer against the wall but set at an angle to the room. Maybe the trunk was safer out of their way. Luckily, someone knocked at the door.
“Pizza!” Cherise announced brightly. The table was set with plates and forks.
Vic answered the door and picked up the tab, which was only fair, Lacey thought. He was getting along amazingly well with her mother and sister. So well, she was seriously reconsidering whether he was the man for her.
Rose wasted no time bonding with Vic over the issue of Lacey’s safety and the importance of staying away from people with murder on their minds. In her own defense, Lacey just nodded and smiled and visualized putting her furniture back where it belonged. She mentally cataloged the patterns in the trunk, promising she would have another outfit made out of the emerald-green crepe, as a reward for not screaming. After he downed three pieces of pepperoni pizza and a glass of milk, Vic announced he had to leave. He departed to a flurry of good-byes from the Smithsonian women, and a furtive kiss from one of them.
In their brief respective visits, Vic and Stella had brought a tidal wave of speculation to wash over her family. But Lacey wasn’t in the mood to supply any answers.
“My, your Vic seems nice,” Rose began. “And he’s from Colorado too?”
“He’s just a friend, okay?”
“I see,” her mother said with satisfaction. “Well, your friend has excellent taste in flowers.”
Lacey longed for peace and quiet. Watching a PBS pledge drive on television sounded too exciting for her. But Cherise’s engine was still running. “We’re only here for a few days, Lacey. Let’s go out. Do the town. Run amok.”
Only here for a few days
was all that kept Lacey in a civil mood. She was so exhausted after this week that she felt a stiff breeze would knock her down. The last thing she wanted to do was go out. She groaned involuntarily.
“I’d settle for a trip to Wal-Mart, Lacey. Come on, I’ve been cooped up in a plane all day. I have to get out of here. Get your blood flowing, sis.”
Whatever flowed in Cherise’s veins, it wasn’t the thin red stuff that Lacey’s were full of. But she made a lightning decision. “There’s this little jazz club I’ve been hearing about. Velvet’s Blues. You game?”
Velvet’s Blues suddenly seemed like the perfect compromise. One, it was close by, near the river on King Street in Old Town, above a pricey restaurant. Second, and more important, it was the club where Turtledove played with his band. With any luck, she could catch a few minutes alone with him to see what he knew about the shootings. And, she admitted to herself, Forrest Thunderbird—Turtledove to his friends—was an unusually attractive man who always seemed pleased to see her, without any of the awkward complications that always came along with Vic. And a little sweet jazz on his trumpet might help drive this awful week out of her head. “We can have a drink there, okay? Just one. And it’s in Alexandria; we can walk there. It’s not far.”
“Cool! Sounds great; I need a walk. What should I wear?” Cherise made a dash for her suitcase. Rose begged off, saying she was tired, but Lacey suspected she was more interested in rearranging the furniture and inventorying the kitchen cabinets without any interference.