California Girl by Patricia Rice Page B

pie now that she’d tasted them separately.
“I’m just saying one slice won’t kill you. It might even make you feel better.”
    “Finding Mame would make me feel better.” He stabbed his
fork into the dessert. Maybe he needed the antacid action of dairy.
    “Mame spent her entire life raising you and your brothers.” She
shook her spoon at him. “Now she’s free to do as she pleases. If this is what
pleases her, you shouldn’t interfere. You know as well as I do that she will
let us know if she needs help. You have a phone and she has the number.”
    Distracted by her waving spoon, waiting for the dollop of
whipped cream to shoot across the table, Elliot glanced up to catch Alys
licking a patch of chocolate on the corner of her lips. When he caught himself
wanting to lick the spot clean for her, he swallowed his bite of cheesecake whole.
    By the time he’d stopped choking, he’d prepared his
argument. “The stress of the journey could worsen her heart condition. Her life
is more important than a Balloon Fiesta.”
    “Her life is the
Balloon Fiesta,” she said serenely. “Life is a journey. Which would you rather
do—spend your whole life in the fast lane fighting traffic or stop to watch the
balloons?”
    “That’s New Age baloney.” He slapped down the fork, and
ignoring the soft drink she’d ordered, he sipped from his water glass.
    “Not to Mame. She’s doing what she believes in.”
    What was she trying to tell him? Probably nothing he wanted
to hear. He rubbed at the heartburn this discussion—or the
cheesecake—engendered.
    “Are you okay?” Her huge eyes watched him with concern.
    He liked having her watch him as if he were that whipped
cream she was inhaling, but he didn’t like having anyone fret over him. “I’m
not used to rich desserts,” he replied, unwilling to tell her more.
    She studied him briefly, then finished off her last bite
with a sigh of pleasure. She patted her mouth with her napkin. “Little girl’s
room.”
    She flitted away in her butterfly mode. Heads turned to
watch her pass by. She stopped to speak with the waitress, who glanced in his
direction. Why did that scene make his chest burn more?
    A moment later, he knew.
    “Doc Nice!” the waitress chirruped, handing him the check.
“I listen to you on the radio all the time. Could I get your autograph?”
    Heads swiveled. This was a small room and the waitress
hadn’t exactly been quiet. He scribbled his autograph on a napkin and reached
for his wallet.
    A woman at a nearby table turned around and handed him a
notebook. “Please, for my daughter? She swears by your books.”
    A small cluster of women surrounded the table before he
could pay the check and escape.
    Not until the waitress brought back his credit card and Alys
still hadn’t returned did he realize she’d stiffed him with the check and
disappeared.
    Escaping his admirers and hurrying outside, Elliot fumed.
They hadn’t seen a sign of Mame. For all he knew, Alys could be fleeing in the
Caddy.
    Striding down the street, he stumbled to a halt when he
turned the corner and saw Alys sitting on Beulah’s big pink hood, blowing
bubbles. A weary mother pushing a stroller and clinging to the hand of a
whining toddler stopped to let the child watch.
    Oh, no, she wasn’t
doing this to him again . No more dallying. Elliot opened the passenger door
to indicate he was ready to leave. In no hurry, Alys leaned over to hand the
whirligig to the enchanted child.
    She slid off the car hood, leaving the mother to stroll
away, smiling and listening to her toddler’s excited chatter.
    Oblivious to Elliot’s observation, Alys slipped into the
driver’s seat and stretched her legs. She snapped on the seat belt, and handed
Elliot a roll of Tums. “Mame was in the collectible store this morning. The
owner didn’t know for certain, but he thought she was with a young Hispanic
girl. Short, long braid, wearing jeans. That’s as much as he remembered. Sound
like