True Blue - By David Baldacci Page 0,34

was heard from her was a snort.

An older woman in a maid’s uniform brought coffee and little sandwiches out to the faux English conservatory they were sitting in. She looked as though she would rather be driving tenpenny nails through her skull with a hammer than playing maid for Timothy and Dana. The sandwiches weren’t nearly as wonderful as the spread Abe Altman had offered. Still, Mace filled her belly and had her caffeine fix.

The little Yorkie, whose name Mace had been told was Angelina Fernandina, sat on a plump pillow in front of her own little gold tray of high-end vittles, happily nipping away with teeth the size and shape of splinters. Mace inclined her head at precious Angelina. “Do you dress her in clothes too?”

Dana answered, “Only when we travel. Our jet makes her cold.”

“Poor thing,” said Mace.

“So does Beth still have a menagerie of misfits?”

“Just me and Blind Man, but he’s going strong. Probably be alive and well when you’re planting old Angie there in the dirt.”

Timothy sucked in a breath at this remark and gave Angelina a little pat with the back of his hand, which told Mace that he didn’t actually like dogs, hair-teased or not.

“So, how’s the rural aristocratic life treating you both?” Timothy daintily patted his lips with a monogrammed napkin and glanced at Dana, apparently waiting for her to respond.

“Timothy has been elected to head up the local planning commission. It’s an important position because you wouldn’t believe what people want to do out here development-wise. It’s a travesty.”

You mean like putting up a twenty-thousand-square-foot Scottish castle smack in the middle of farmland and raising your working-class neighbors’ property taxes tenfold?Mace thought. But she said, “Congratulations, Timothy. That’s great.”

His chest puffed out a bit as he swallowed the last bit of sandwich. When he spoke it was as though he were addressing an adoring audience of thousands. “I will endeavor to carry out my duties to the best of my abilities. I take the stewardship that has been granted to me very seriously.”

God, you are the biggest prick.“I’m sure you do,” Mace said pleasantly.

Dana said, “So what are your plans, Mason?”

Mace slowly put down her coffee cup. “I’d actually considered stripping on Internet webcams for food, but then a job offer came along.”

“What sort of job offer?”

“An assistant to a college professor.”

“Why would a college professor want you as an assistant?” scoffed her mother.

“He’s blind, on a tight budget, and I’m apparently cheaper than a seeing-eye dog.”

“Will you please be serious for once in your life, Mason!”

Okay, I tried playing patty-cakes and I don’t like it.“What does it matter to you what I do? I’m sure we can agree that you’re a few decades late on playing mommy.”

“How dare you—”

Mace could feel her ears burning. She didn’t want to go there. She really didn’t. “Oh, I always dare. So just back off, lady.”

“Then let me explain to you quite clearly why it is my business. If you can’t support yourself, guess who you’ll be running to with your hand out?”

Mace formed fists so tight all of her finger joints popped. She leaned into Dana until their noses were only separated by a bare inch. “I would gnaw off my hand before I came to you or Scotch Bonnet Boy over there for one freaking dime.”

A scarlet-faced Timothy scrambled to his leather-booted feet. “I think I’ll go do some yoga. I feel my balance is off.”

Dana immediately put out her hand for him to take. “All right, dear. But remember, we have dinner tonight with the mayor and his wife at the French Hound.”

The moment he’d fled the room, Dana whirled on her youngest daughter. “It’s nearly impossible to believe, but I think prison has actually made you worse.”

This barb was so weak that Mace simply ignored it and studied her mother in silence for a few moments. “So why are you still all so kissy-kissy to him? You’ve got the ring. You’re legally locked to Lord Bonny Butt.”

She said stiffly, “He’s a Scottish earl, not a lord.”

The truth suddenly hit Mace. “Bonny Butt’s got a kick-ass prenup, doesn’t he?”

“Shut up, Mason! This minute.”

“So how does it work? You vest a few diamond bracelets, some cash, and a bushel of Triple A bonds for each year of matrimonial bliss?”

Her mother snapped, “I don’t even know why I invited you here.” Mace rose. “Oh, that one is easy, actually. You just wanted me to see how fabulous your life is. Well, I’m duly impressed.

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