The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 6-10 - Catherine Coulter [49]
Lily, who’d been staring at him like he had sprouted a TV antenna from his head, said, “Why did I ever think I loved you? You’re the biggest jerk.”
“I’m not, I’m just trying to understand you, to make you face things. Besides, that’s what Dr. Rossetti thinks.”
Lily began laughing, rich, deep laughter that didn’t stop for a good, long time. Finally, wiping her eyes, she said, “You’re really good, Tennyson, both you and Dr. Rossetti. You combined all your shrink analysis with some pills to drive me over the edge, and no wonder I wanted to do away with myself. So I made the guy up to assuage my guilt. Do you know what, Tennyson? I think I’m just about over blaming myself.”
Charlotte said, “Lily dearest, I’m glad to hear you say that, actually—”
Lily interrupted her mother-in-law. She was waving Tennyson away even as she said, her voice light, amused, “Please go now, both of you. I hope that I’m lucky enough never to see either of you again.”
Sherlock said, “Oh, I hope we do see them again, Lily. In a courtroom.”
Savich said suddenly, “Your first wife, Tennyson. I don’t suppose Lynda’s fondest wish was to be cremated?”
Tennyson was shaking so much from rage, Sherlock was sure he was going to go after her husband, a singularly stupid thing for him even to consider. She stepped quickly to him, laid her hand on his forearm and said, “Don’t even think about it. You couldn’t take me and I’m half your size. Even five days after surgery, I doubt you could take Lily either. So please just leave, Tennyson, and take your mother with you.”
“I am appalled that you have relatives who are so very close-minded and obnoxious, Lily,” Charlotte Frasier said, her words smooth out of her mouth. They left, not another word out of either mouth, but Tennyson did pause to give Lily a tormented look over his shoulder.
Sherlock said thoughtfully, “He was trying to reproduce a patented Heathcliff look there, all down-in-the-mouth and pathetic. He didn’t do it well, but he tried.”
Lily said, “Did you notice that lovely black turtleneck sweater Tennyson was wearing? I gave it to him for Christmas.”
“You know what I think, Lily?” Savich asked, shaking his head at her. “I think the next time a guy appeals to you, red lights need to flash in your brain. Then we need to take him in for questioning.”
“I was just thinking about that this morning. Maybe I’m too gullible. Okay, no more good-looking men; actually, no more men at all, Dillon, or I’ll kick myself from here to Boston. Nothing but gnomes with pocket protectors for me in the future, and they’ll just be friends.”
That was going overboard, Sherlock was thinking, but for the time being, not a bad way for Lily to think about the opposite sex.
Lily said, “I wish I had a beer so I could drink to that.”
Savich said, “No beer. Here’s more iced tea.”
“Thanks.” Lily sipped the tea and laid her head back against the pillow. “I wonder where my father-in-law was. You think they really thought he’d be a liability?”
“Evidently so,” Savich said. “What amazes me is they don’t seem to realize what a liability the both of them are.”
“I’ve never heard such a charming Southern accent,” Sherlock said. She sat down on the bed beside Lily and lightly rubbed her arm. “Talk about candy coating.”
“She frightened me more than Tennyson.” She gave both of them a fat smile. “I held up,” she said, gave a deep sigh, and said again, “I held up. He never guessed that I was so scared.”
Savich felt her pain in his gut. He gathered her against him, very careful with her stitches. He kissed the top of her head. “Oh no, sweetheart, there isn’t a reason for you to be afraid of him, ever again. I was proud of you. You held up great.”
“Yes, you did, Lily, so no more talk about being scared. Remember, you’ve got your two bulldogs right here. You know something? I don’t know what