Page 80 of Suddenly Dating
“I’ll just change,” Lola said.
“Going where?” Harry asked, feeling mildly disappointed that she wasn’t going to be around on his day off.
“Baby shower,” Mallory said. “I made Lola promise she’d go with me. I hate baby showers. All those rattles and diapers.” She shuddered, as if these were reprehensible things.
Lola returned later that afternoon carrying a plate with tiny baby bottles glued to it. Harry stopped constructing his sandwich and looked at the thing with all due suspicion.
“I knew the most baby trivia,” Lola said. “And this is my prize.” She put it down on the kitchen bar and shook her head, too, as if she couldn’t make it out. “Harry! We’re leaving in an hour for a dinner party. Are you going to eat that sandwich now?”
“I am,” he said, and took a healthy bite. He held it out to her.
Lola rose up on the toes and took a bite. “God, that’s good,” she said, her mouth full. “I can’t watch you eat that,” she said. “I might pass out from hunger. I’m going to get ready. We can’t be late, Harry!”
“We won’t be late,” he assured her, and true to his word, an hour later, he was sitting in the living room when Lola emerged from her bedroom in the red dress. She had on red heels, too, and a long gold chain with a gold heart charm that draped down her front, the heart dangling above her waist.
Harry stood up, taking her in. It was amazing to him that she could transform from someone covered in cake batter to this. “Gorgeous,” he said.
“And you,” she said, pointing at him. “That’s a fine suit, Handsome Harry.”
“Only the best for Birta Hoffman. Are you ready? Have you rehearsed your lines?” he asked.
“Very funny. I’m ready. I think,” she said, and laughed nervously.
They arrived at Birta Hoffman’s summer residence ten minutes late, having driven up Hackberry Road to pick up Mallory. They had not factored in how long it took for someone to walk from a room in the Cantrell mansion all the way to the drive.
But now the three of them stood staring at the Hoffman residence as the valet drove Harry’s truck away—everyone on Lake Haven had a valet, apparently.
Lola cocked her head to one side, studying it. “It’s not as fancy as I thought it would be,” she mused.
“It’s a rental,” Mallory said. She had chosen to wear what Harry thought was a muumuu, complete with several long necklaces that reminded him a little of what a fortune-teller would wear. “Property is hard to come by out here,” she added. “Deed restrictions and all that. You two are so lucky Zach is letting you use his lake house.”
Harry didn’t look at Lola, and he was certain she didn’t look at him. “Shall we?” he asked, and put his hand on Lola’s back, guiding her to the door.
Mallory didn’t knock; she opened the door and crooned,“Hello!”before sailing inside. Harry and Lola exchanged a look before following her.
The house was very modern, all glass and chrome and shiny white. The kitchen was to the right and looked out over an expansive dining area and living room. The kitchen island stretched the full length of the kitchen and was laden with plates of finger foods. Soft jazz played in the background, and a man in a chef’s coat and apron was busy at the stove. Two uniformed waiters bowed and held out trays of wine.
“Ah, look who has come!” they heard Birta trill. She stepped through the sliding glass door that opened onto the deck. Her long black hair looked like silk tonight, and she had bangs that hung down almost over her eyes. She was wearing a black, floor-length dress, and around her neck, another monstrous turquoise arrangement. “Hallo, darling,” she said to Mallory, exchanging a couple of air kisses with her. She walked up the steps from the sunken living room. “Lisa, right?” she said to Lola, holding out her hand.
“Lola,” Lola said, and awkwardly clasped Birta’s hand and gave it a shake.
“Yes, yes, Lola, of course. I should remember that—my brother’s cat is named Lola. My apologies.” Birta turned to Harry. “Hallo, Harry,” she said, and presented her cheek to be kissed. Her hand, Harry noticed, landed on his sleeve.
“Lovely place you’ve got here.”
“Oh, thank you. I can’t take any of the credit,” she said, her voice silky and a bit more accented than Harry recalled. “My agent found it for me.”
“Oh, is he here?” Lola asked lightly.
“Cyrus?” Birta laughed. “Heavens, no. Cyrus wouldn’t be caught dead at Lake Haven. It’s not the Hamptons, darling,” she said, as if Lola were a precocious child.
Harry didn’t know what to make of this famous author, but was fairly certain he didn’t much like her.
“Come, now, have some wine,” Birta said. “My good friend Mr.Rothschild sent it from Napa just for tonight. And Chef Donatelli has graciously agreed to prepare our meal tonight. I’m sure you’ve heard of his restaurant in New York, Harry. Aro?”
Harry knew about Aro.Reservations were booked a month out. He wondered idly what the chef was doing here on a Sunday night instead of cooking at his restaurant.
“This setting is ideal for writing,” Lola said to Birta. “You must be inspired by the view.”
