Page 124 of The Housekeeper

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It was almost ten o’clock when I climbed into bed beside Harrison.

“Sorry about tonight,” I apologized.

“Not your fault.”

“She was just so upset.”

“She’ll come out on top,” Harrison said, putting his arm around me and drawing me close. “She always does.”

“I guess.”

“Look. I’m sorry if I’ve been a little…difficult lately.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ve just been so preoccupied with this damn book. And I was so pissed off that you were right about it—itwasway too wordy.”

I laughed, luxuriating in the warmth of his embrace. “I’m just thrilled that everyone’s happy with it now.”

“Me, too.”

The phone rang.

“If it’s Tracy, don’t answer it.”

“It’s my father,” I said, stretching to read the caller ID. “Oh, God. You don’t think something’s happened, do you?”

“I think you better find out.”

I lifted the receiver gingerly to my ear. “Dad?”

“It’s Elyse,” the voice said.

“My father…?”

“He’s fine,” Elyse said with a laugh. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t realize it was so late. I probably should have waited till morning to call.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I just wanted you to know that I meant what I said this afternoon. I really want all of us to get along, to put this unfortunate episode behind us and be a family.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed. What else could I say? The truth was that, deep down, I wanted the same thing.

“So I was thinking that we should have a little party, to celebrate. It would be your father and me, you and Harrison and Tracy, and I could invite a few of the neighbors and some of your father’s friends, maybe even some of his former business associates…”

“That sounds like an awful lot of trouble.”

“I was thinking of Saturday night,” she continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Would that work for you?”

“Sure. I guess I can find a sitter…”

“Wonderful. Saturday night at seven. I look forward to seeing you then.”

“Saturday at seven,” I repeated.

“What’s happening Saturday at seven?” Harrison asked as I replaced the receiver.

“Apparently, we’re going to a party.” I scooted down in the bed, felt my husband’s hands on my breasts, his lips on the side of my neck.

“Don’t look now,” Harrison said, “but the party’s already started.”

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