Love by the Numbers Page 5

  She was about to bring up the schedule of their departure when her phone chirped. She excused herself to take the call outside in the hall.

  “This is Lupe, Damon’s assistant. We have a laptop for you.”

  “Fantastic. You’re a miracle worker.” She wrote down the store name and address, repeating it back.

  “I gave them a credit card and authorized it for four hundred more than the laptop so you can get accessories, spare batteries, other software. It was nice to work with a small store—they were very helpful and when I said it was urgent, they started installing software for you.”

  “It’s a different world here,” Lily agreed. “Thank you again.”

  Pleased, she tucked her notebook back in her bag. Returning to Nicole’s office she said, “I have an urgent errand to run. It may take me an hour or so.”

  “Beekman’s is just past the main intersection, on your right.” Nicole finished writing something on one of her documents.

  She hadn’t realized she could be so easily heard and added eavesdropper to her growing list of Nicole’s faults even as she chided herself for the childishness of having a list. She pushed all the tickets and slips of paper back into the folder and gathered it up. “Thank you. See you in a little while.”

  She got a nod in return. It wasn’t that far to traipse back to her car, and the sun was warming up the morning. Her thin sweater was finally able to keep her warm. She hoped Nicole wasn’t put off by the splashy peacock feather pattern—she was going to be seeing a lot of it in Lily’s mix-and-match travel wardrobe.

  The electronics store was right in the middle of town as Nicole had said. The moment she explained who she was she was whisked to the rear of the small store by the owner. His geniality kept her smiling even as she realized that the big screen TV at the front of the store was playing the so-called legal program with that woman, Merrill Boone, who had made Lily the unrelenting focus of her investigative speculations.

  Though Lily focused on the owner’s explanations about the various add-ons she had available, she could hear that honey-sticky voice promising the latest update on a missing cheerleader and an exclusive, case-breaking interview with the girl’s mother’s boyfriend. He’d been cleared by the police, Boone reported. But, she asked, with her steely gaze, did he know more than he’d told her in yesterday’s interview?

  Lily wondered how many people realized Boone couldn’t move her eyebrows more than a fraction. Botox had its side effects. It had also apparently frozen her heart.

  Nerves twanging, Lily almost didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice coming from the speakers. Good lord—it was the footage from her perp walk, as they’d hustled her in for her official arrest.

  Even as her gaze told her she had lost weight since then, her ears could easily detect the tears in her voice as she gasped out, “No comment.” New York’s finest hadn’t exactly kept her out of reach of the photographers.

  With a visible startle she returned to what the owner was pointing out on the laptop’s screen. Battery indicator. Did she want a spare battery? She agreed to one as she shook her hair into her eyes. It hurt, seeing herself before the hatchet job. She supposed that her long red hair had seemed luxuriously indulgent to the thousands of people so eager to hate her. It hadn’t helped that the morning talk shows had immediately found a stylist to contend that she had a dozen hair extensions. Then they’d paraded a fashionista who’d identified her handbag as Givenchy. That she’d been released on bail a mere six hours later had been an outrage to all the victims, according to Merrill Boone.

  That saccharine-and-steel voice—Lily hated it. It was that exact voice that had asked her, microphone in her face, if she had a comment on her parents’ suicides. She hadn’t given Boone the satisfaction of knowing that she had been the one to tell Lily how her parents had died. Right now the Boone on television was telling her audience that Lillian Linden-Smith had dropped out of sight. Scandalously, law enforcement refused to comment. They probably didn’t even know where she was.

  Because the case against me was dismissed, Lily wanted to wail. They’re not tracking me because I’m innocent.

  She was going to get away from all of this and eventually she would let her hair grow out and go back to its real color. It felt silly to mourn for it. But it had been her unassailable asset—one hundred percent hers. In the lineup with wealthy cousins who’d had noses, chins and ears touched up by surgeons, and who enjoyed hairdresser trips every other week costing what some people spent on car payments, her naturally luxurious hair had canceled out the little bump at the top of her nose, the blight of her thin upper lip and the distracting uneven line of her jaw. She hadn’t even realized she had such noticeable flaws until mingling with women who offered the names of their plastic surgeons the way an investment banker might offer a stock tip.

  She was profoundly grateful when someone changed the channel. She left forty-five minutes later Wi-Fi ready, wireless add-ons enabled and, happily, a dozen public domain books loaded that would help pass the time. The around-the-world adventures of Phileas Fogg and Passepartout seemed a must-read, given her assignment. She’d not read much Charles Dickens or Jane Austen and now seemed a good time to dive in.

  The centerpiece of her acquisitions, though, was a GPS unit with worldwide maps. The box claimed it could locate itself within five feet, find any address in the world, and would switch to a pedestrian mode if walking to a destination. Since she’d already gotten addicted to the unit built into the rental car she was certain she’d like having it to rely on.

  The visitor parking lot was only a little more crowded when she returned, and she was acutely aware that one person she passed gave her a long, quizzical look. When she’d woken this morning she’d wondered what Indira would have said if she’d known who Lily was. There were a couple of times that she thought Kate was looking at her oddly. They were nice people, she thought. Sure, Indira was a little intense but that she cared about her daughters wasn’t in doubt. While she’d been growing up she’d known other kids had moms who cared like that and she’d envied them, sometimes. It was easy to want what you’d never had.

  Refusing to respond to either of Nicole’s two moods—chilly or annoyed—she gave her a cheerful greeting and explained that she needed a Wi-Fi connection.

  “The student union has Wi-Fi.” Nicole’s expression was wooden. “You may find their lunch offerings to your taste as well.”

  “Do you mind if I text you with questions?”

  “Not at all.” Nicole rose. “I’m ready for lunch so I’ll show you the way.”

  Surprised by the offer, Lily accepted. They left the building and passed a statue of a man who had the same last name as Nicole. Confused, Lily promised herself a visit to the university’s website to read Nicole’s bio in-depth.

  The campus was lovely. Nowhere near the size of Wellesley, it was still spacious and the greenery was lush. Oak trees surrounded the commons and tall hedges lined the walkway to the student union. She loved living in Manhattan, but the cool, clean quiet here was soothing. There was probably a very different energy when students were present.

  She spotted a table near an electrical outlet and headed for it after buying a cup of coffee. Though she kept her gaze on her laptop as it booted up, she was aware that Nicole had paid for her lunch and taken a few steps toward a table near the window—probably the one where she ate every day. Lily could almost see the calculation taking place as Nicole weighed her habitual behavior against the social construct of having someone she knew already seated at a table with more than enough room for her as well. She wondered if Nicole would be surprised at just how much behavioral science Lily had studied in preparation for a master’s program in International Relations.

  She hoped, someday, to get that master’s degree. She hoped, someday, to get back to her dreams.

  Nicole had turned in her direction. “May I join you?”

  “Of course. This will be more efficient. I already have a
question.”

  Nicole settled with her tray containing a small salad and cup of vegetable soup. “Go ahead.”

  “I don’t want to bother you with all the possible combinations of hotel lodgings. Do you have a set preference? Did anyone else ask you about that?”

  “Do you mean in regard to what’s outside the window, how many beds, minibars and such?”

  “And such.”

  “They asked, but I don’t know what was secured.”

  It was like pulling teeth. “Well, tell me your preferences and I’ll review them. It will make check-in less stressful.”

  “I don’t care what’s outside the window. One assistant was ecstatic about a balcony in Edinburgh, but…” She shrugged. “I like having tea when I wake every morning, but I have an electric kettle and a travel mug so I really don’t require much in the way of amenities. My needs are simple.”

  Lily nodded. “And you’d prefer rooms that were nonsmoking?”

  “Absolutely. Is that difficult in Europe?”

  “No, not anymore. But it does depend on where you are. Only the large chains have nonsmoking rooms in Russia, it seems. It matters to me as well.”

  For once Nicole looked a little less certain. “I’m most intimidated by the idea of Russia. The lack of cognates in the signage, for one thing.”

  “Our destinations, Moscow and St. Petersburg, are very cosmopolitan. If it helps, I speak a little Russian.”

  Nicole blinked at her. “Really?”

  Vexed that Nicole was surprised that she might actually have a relevant, useful skill set, but worried that she’d revealed too much, she rushed to explain. “I have relatives whose ties to the country date back to before the Revolution. My parents thought it might be a good idea for me to learn the language.”

  Lily could feel some heat in her cheeks and hoped Nicole didn’t notice. After extensive lessons as a child, which had made clear she had a knack for languages, she’d finally met her very wealthy great-aunt, for whom she had been named, at her estate in Germany. She’d spoken a total of three sentences to the woman. The exercise had not resulted in a shower of gifts and treasures and she’d always felt as if she’d failed her parents somehow. She hadn’t understood until the end how bitterly her parents resented their famous name and empty bank accounts, and the lengths to which they would go to keep up with their wealthy relatives. Most assuredly, if Great-Aunt Lillian Von Smoot were still alive, she would have nothing to do with the scion of the now notorious Linden-Smiths.

  Fortunately, Nicole didn’t seem to notice Lily’s agitation and she quickly went down the list of cities for their first ten days to see if Nicole had any particular issues or thoughts about each.

  “I know we’ll be busy, but if I’m going to be in Dublin, I’d like to see Ashtown Castle or the gardens.”

  Glad that Nicole wasn’t going to insist on just the overtrod tourist sites, Lily nodded. “I don’t know anything about that, but I’ll find out what I can. Walking tours and the like?”

  Nicole had finished her sparse meal and was studying her empty bowl. “Daytime, yes. I’m not much of a night owl.”

  “Noted. Thank you. I think I have all I need for now. Would you like me to be at your house around four thirty? We must be on the road by six, earlier if possible. It’s not that long a drive to Logan, but the travel sites warn about not trying to board international flights in under two hours.”

  “That sounds fine. The length of my mother’s goodbyes will expand to fill the time available.”

  At least your mother cares that you’re leaving, Lily wanted to retort. She’d once returned from a weekend with a school friend—a long ago, unconsummated first crush—to find that her mother hadn’t realized she’d even been gone for two days.

  She told herself there was no fixing the past. She settled in for the next hour, bookmarking and organizing the online information, creating a calendar grid—apparently no one had done that yet—with their commitments, reservations, already acquired travel vouchers and more notes about each city.

  She finished up their first week and decided to get a salad. It proved a diverting break as the cashier who helped her was very buff, very cute and Lily’s libido suggested the bumps under the muscle shirt were nipples with rings. She’d never been with a woman who had pierced nipples. Libido suggested perhaps it was time to live on the wild side. She told Libido to hush up and retreated to her table, sure her face was as flushed as certain other parts of her felt.

  It was, however, a relief to discover that those parts of her were still alive and ready for action. She supposed, out of all real and fake factoids offered about her, she was grateful none had ever suggested she was a lesbian—no doubt they would have added lesbo to the list of notorious traits for “The 1% Rich Bitch.” Now, apparently, Merrill Boone was going to go on claiming Lily had gotten away with her parents’ Ponzi-scheme fortune. That lawyers had drained her of everything but suitcases and travel wear, used skis and some photographs, weren’t facts Boone cared about. That every dime that had come to her from her parents’ estate had been seized by the court was also irrelevant along with the fact that Lily had been completely ignorant of her parents’ business dealings. Distant as they were, they had still been her parents. They had told her everything was suddenly coming up roses for them and she had believed it.

  By the time the clock turned to four she had finished up most of their international travel plans. She would work on the United States and Canada at night. The oversized Prada handbag she’d chosen for the trip had room for the packets of rubber-banded material and the sleek little laptop. High fashion had its uses.

  It was nearly half-past four when she rolled into the driveway at the Hathaways’ house. Kate was rocking on the porch, looking even more pregnant and uncomfortable. In response to Lily’s greeting, Kate said, “I just want the drugs and a C-section at this point, and I have almost three more months.”

  Eyeing Kate’s narrow hips, Lily didn’t envy her. “How far is it to the birthing facility?”

  “Meredith General—just ten minutes. I don’t know how pioneer women did that whole work in the field, squat, have the baby and then make lunch thing.”

  “Lack of options?”

  Kate cracked a smile. “No little spa on the prairie.”

  A late-model all-wheel drive came up the driveway and passed the house. Nicole didn’t respond to Kate’s wave.

  “I pity you, you know.”

  “It’s going to be an exciting trip,” Lily said truthfully. “I love travel and while it’s hectic, there should be time to see parts of the world—and someone else is paying for most of it. What’s not to like about that?”

  “You have to put up with Nicole. She’s such a moody shit.”

  Lily was curious about the strife between the sisters, but didn’t want to elicit gossip—at least not outright. “Why would you tell me that?”

  Kate lifted an eyebrow. “Fair warning?”

  “I’m sure my experience of traveling with your sister will differ from your experience of life with her. It’s impermanent, for one thing.”

  “Lucky you—okay. Don’t get me wrong. She’s not an evil person. But she hasn’t got a warm-blooded, spontaneous bone in her body.”

  Kate’s comment was close to Lily’s own thoughts. She glanced out at the garden to keep herself from gracing Kate’s belly with a meaningful look. Her tone neutral, she said, “Spontaneity can have a downside, perhaps?”

  “Not for me. I always wanted children. I’ve just never wanted a husband.”

  Lily wondered if Kate realized she sounded like some of the women she’d known in college. Interested in families, but not interested in men, and some not interested in women either. The cute cashier had made her realize just how long she’d been celibate. It wasn’t as if she’d been burning the candle at both ends at Wellesley, but she hadn’t lacked for interesting dates and the occasional overnight experience. She’d quickly found that when the money went,
so had the sorority sisters and friends. There hadn’t been anyone special, but those friends she might have kept after graduation she supposed she’d pushed away. Everything had hurt.

  San Francisco, she thought. Surely there was still a lesbian bar or two or three in San Francisco. And New Orleans—based on what classmates had said about Southern Decadence, there was no end to the delightful treats one could find there all year-round, she was sure. The professor wasn’t a night owl so Lily supposed she might find herself with many evenings free. Why wait for San Francisco at the end of the trip?

  London. Tomorrow night, Libido suggested.

  “Shall we load the car?”

  She hadn’t heard Nicole’s approach, and the question jolted Lily out of her reverie about loud music and cashiers with nipple piercings. Libido, her inner temptress, had bad timing as usual. She felt heat in her cheeks, but turned to fuss about opening the trunk. The calculating, dour Professor Hathaway was the last person with whom she’d ever share her fantasies.

  * * *

  “Do you have the kettle? Did you remember insect repellent?”

  Her mother’s agitated questions were wearing on Nicole’s nerves but she reminded herself they were a manifestation of maternal concern. “Mom, I have everything I can carry. What I don’t have I’ll buy. I’m sure the inestimable Miss Smith will take care of me.”

  “You are very lucky. She has been everywhere.”

  Normally Nicole would have pointed out that Lily couldn’t have possibly been everywhere, but sparring about it wasn’t going to calm the situation. Her mother would begin to cry the moment she saw car keys. That would be better than acceding to any request to open her bags again. She’d left them locked all day to keep her mother from exploring the contents—her mother had little concept of personal privacy if she was worried Nicole had forgotten to pack socks. At this point she didn’t want her mother to find the jacket.