Lillian does not flinch or hesitate. “Yes.”
Simone sits taller, nearly coming out of her chair. “Seriously?”
“Indeed.”
“Who?”
“Herman Westheimer.”
“Nooo. That old geezer.”
I try to remain calm and set a hand on Simone’s leg, hoping to soothe her, too.
Lillian nods. “They arranged it. I kept ignoring them, thinking there was no way they could or would actually go through with such a ridiculous scheme. But they were dead serious. When Mom told me they’d set a date for an engagement party, my head nearly blew off.”
Simone gasps. “That’s insane.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too, so I took a play out of your book and headed out of town. I hoped you were in Seattle like I’d overheard. I’m also glad I had already stashed my inheritance somewhere safe. I headed for the airport, paid in cash, and got on the first available flight. There was no way I was going to marry that skanky old geezer.”
Jameson smirks. “How old are we talking about?”
I’m thinking the same thing, but I was afraid to ask.
Simone grabs my hand on her thigh and pats it. “That’s not important.”
Jameson laughs so hard that his entire body shakes. “Ballpark number, Little one. Just so I’ll know how old an old geezer is in your cute Little girl minds.”
Natasha turns toward him and swats his arm. “Stop it, Daddy.”
He widens his eyes all innocently. “What? I’m just asking, Baby girl.” He turns toward Lillian. Smart move. She doesn’t know us well enough to lie. “How old is this Herman Westheimer guy, Lillian?”
She swallows. “Uh…”
Simone lets go of my hand and lurches toward her sister on her other side, covering her mouth. “It’s a trap. Don’t answer him.”
Natasha giggles. “It’s hilarious, though. I think you should tell these very ancient old Daddies how old Herman is. I need the laughter.”
Simone groans. She shoots a glare in my direction and then Jameson’s. “He’s probably thirty-six.”
Jameson starts silently laughing. His entire body bounces up and down even though no sound comes from his mouth.
Simone looks toward me. “Trust me when I say at forty-two, both of you are much younger than Herman Westheimer.”
Lillian nods. “She’s right. That gross man was old when he was eighteen.”
“Why on Earth would your parents want you to marry someone you don’t even like, much less love?” I ask.
“Money,” both girls answer in unison.
Lillian sighs. “Prestige. Money. Perceived power.”
“There is no way Mom and Dad are going to allow both of us to simply vanish and let it go,” Simone points out.
Lillian cringes. “I know, but I didn’t know what else to do. You were always the more savvy of the two of us. I decided you would be able to figure out how to handle this situation.”
“How did you find Simone?” I ask. This is an important place to start.
“I called an agency, and they tracked down your address.”
