considered making an offer to buy my town house.
“I’ll call Dilly Silva tonight and tell her to pull some listings,” Mom said, referring to her fellow Cherry Twist, a Realtor. “She’ll find you a nice place to buy.”
“Dilly sells real estate in Encino. No offense, Mom, but I don’t want to live in Encino.”
“She has contacts all over the city. She rented the Mayfair Hotel ballroom downtown at half the rate for the fund-raiser. Tell Dilly where you want to live and she’ll find you a deal. I’ll help her search.”
Mom house shopping for me? Double shudders. “Please wait. I don’t know what I want to do yet.”
“No time to wait, dear. This is a big deal. We’ll start—” Mom gasped. “It just dawned on me. You were hexed. Were you standing in Lucia’s way today?”
Logic only lasted so long in Vivian Gordon’s world.
* * *
A t twelve thirty on Thursday I said good-bye to my last client, freshened my red lipstick, and drove from my courtyard office on Ventura Boulevard to meet Nick at my town house. I found him parked in front, fresh from his last class at NoHo Community College and looking professorial in a navy sport coat and Ivy League blue button-down shirt.
His smile made me smile. I hopped into his SUV. “Were your students smart enough for you this morning, Professor?”
“Never. But they try. Were your clients crazy enough for you?”
I smoothed the skirt of my beige linen dress and buckled my seat belt. “Not crazy. A little neurotic, maybe. Distressed. But nothing fatal.”
Nick drove down the hill toward Ventura Boulevard and CBS Studio Center. My phone rang.
“The hex struck again,” Mom said. “Carmen is in the hospital.”
“What? What happened? Is she all right?” I put my smartphone on speaker.
“She woke up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach pain and drove herself to the hospital,” Mom said. “Her doctor did emergency gallbladder surgery on her at ten this morning. I’m at Good Samaritan now, waiting for her to come out of the recovery room.”
“Is Victor with you? He must be wild with worry.”
“He doesn’t know yet. Carmen didn’t want to upset him.”
“You have to call and tell him, Viv,” Nick said.
“Carmen asked me to wait until she got back to her room, so she could tell him herself.”
“But Carmen told Victor not to go to work today. What about her clinic patients? We’re on our way there now. What if he decided to go in?” I said.
“I’m sure she contacted someone at the clinic before she went into surgery. You know Carmen—Park Clinic comes first. Don’t say anything when you get there. And don’t call Victor. Let Carmen do this her way. Promise, dear?”
I wasn’t happy about it but I promised. “When Carmen wakes up, tell her Nick and I are thinking about her.” I hung up the phone and turned to Nick. “What else could happen?”
“I wouldn’t ask, Liz. When I do, fate makes a point of showing me.” He squeezed my hand. “At least we’re okay.”
“You are. Me? Not so much. Yesterday I received a letter telling me I have to move in six weeks. The owners want my town house back.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
He turned left onto Vineland Avenue, passed the Beverly Garland hotel, and made another left onto the 101 Freeway toward downtown. We sped through North Hollywood and past the Hollywood Bowl in silence.
As we neared the Sunset Boulevard overpass, Nick said, “Move in with me.”
My jaw dropped. My heart did a happy flip then caution smacked it midair.
Was he serious?
I was tempted. Nick made me happy. He made me laugh. He was easy to be with. The sex was great. And he was so good to curl up with in bed. But I relished my freedom, too. I came and went as I pleased, didn’t answer to anyone, had control of my remote and my refrigerator. Could roam around makeup-free in sweats if I felt like it. Leave the TV on all night if I wanted to. Eat all the chocolate
“I’ll call Dilly Silva tonight and tell her to pull some listings,” Mom said, referring to her fellow Cherry Twist, a Realtor. “She’ll find you a nice place to buy.”
“Dilly sells real estate in Encino. No offense, Mom, but I don’t want to live in Encino.”
“She has contacts all over the city. She rented the Mayfair Hotel ballroom downtown at half the rate for the fund-raiser. Tell Dilly where you want to live and she’ll find you a deal. I’ll help her search.”
Mom house shopping for me? Double shudders. “Please wait. I don’t know what I want to do yet.”
“No time to wait, dear. This is a big deal. We’ll start—” Mom gasped. “It just dawned on me. You were hexed. Were you standing in Lucia’s way today?”
Logic only lasted so long in Vivian Gordon’s world.
* * *
A t twelve thirty on Thursday I said good-bye to my last client, freshened my red lipstick, and drove from my courtyard office on Ventura Boulevard to meet Nick at my town house. I found him parked in front, fresh from his last class at NoHo Community College and looking professorial in a navy sport coat and Ivy League blue button-down shirt.
His smile made me smile. I hopped into his SUV. “Were your students smart enough for you this morning, Professor?”
“Never. But they try. Were your clients crazy enough for you?”
I smoothed the skirt of my beige linen dress and buckled my seat belt. “Not crazy. A little neurotic, maybe. Distressed. But nothing fatal.”
Nick drove down the hill toward Ventura Boulevard and CBS Studio Center. My phone rang.
“The hex struck again,” Mom said. “Carmen is in the hospital.”
“What? What happened? Is she all right?” I put my smartphone on speaker.
“She woke up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach pain and drove herself to the hospital,” Mom said. “Her doctor did emergency gallbladder surgery on her at ten this morning. I’m at Good Samaritan now, waiting for her to come out of the recovery room.”
“Is Victor with you? He must be wild with worry.”
“He doesn’t know yet. Carmen didn’t want to upset him.”
“You have to call and tell him, Viv,” Nick said.
“Carmen asked me to wait until she got back to her room, so she could tell him herself.”
“But Carmen told Victor not to go to work today. What about her clinic patients? We’re on our way there now. What if he decided to go in?” I said.
“I’m sure she contacted someone at the clinic before she went into surgery. You know Carmen—Park Clinic comes first. Don’t say anything when you get there. And don’t call Victor. Let Carmen do this her way. Promise, dear?”
I wasn’t happy about it but I promised. “When Carmen wakes up, tell her Nick and I are thinking about her.” I hung up the phone and turned to Nick. “What else could happen?”
“I wouldn’t ask, Liz. When I do, fate makes a point of showing me.” He squeezed my hand. “At least we’re okay.”
“You are. Me? Not so much. Yesterday I received a letter telling me I have to move in six weeks. The owners want my town house back.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
He turned left onto Vineland Avenue, passed the Beverly Garland hotel, and made another left onto the 101 Freeway toward downtown. We sped through North Hollywood and past the Hollywood Bowl in silence.
As we neared the Sunset Boulevard overpass, Nick said, “Move in with me.”
My jaw dropped. My heart did a happy flip then caution smacked it midair.
Was he serious?
I was tempted. Nick made me happy. He made me laugh. He was easy to be with. The sex was great. And he was so good to curl up with in bed. But I relished my freedom, too. I came and went as I pleased, didn’t answer to anyone, had control of my remote and my refrigerator. Could roam around makeup-free in sweats if I felt like it. Leave the TV on all night if I wanted to. Eat all the chocolate
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