I'll Be Home for Christmas by Fern Michaels

that’s how you get around; I hope you make your three million plus. Goodbye, Peter.”
    â€œMy name isn’t Peter, it’s Tyler.”
    â€œSame thing, birds of a feather flock together. All you’re interested in is money. You don’t care about me. The fact that you’re taking this so well is suspect in my eyes. And another thing, I wouldn’t let you see me wear my mother’s pearls even if you paid me my weight in gold. One more thing, don’t for one minute think I’m giving one of Rosie’s pups to you to give your grandmother. She’ll sneeze from all of that Lily of the Valley powder.”
    Andi rolled over, her arm snaking out to reach the phone. She yanked it back under the covers immediately. Six-thirty. She’d only had two and a half hours of sleep, and most of that had been dream time. Damn.
    Andi struggled to remember the dream as she showered and dressed.
    The animals tended to, Andi sat at the table sipping the scalding hot coffee. She frowned as she tried to remember what it was in her dream that bothered her. It didn’t hit her until she finished the last of the coffee in the pot. Lily of the Valley. Of course. “When you’re stupid, Andi, you’re stupid.” A moment later the phone book was in her hands. She flipped to the Ks and ran her finger down the listing. She called every S. King in the book until she heard the voice she was expecting. She wasn’t sure, but she thought her heart stopped beating when she heard Gertie’s voice on the other end of the line. Sadie King, Peter King’s grandmother, was the homeless Gertie.
    Blind fury riveted through her. Shaking and trembling, she had to grab hold of the kitchen counter to steady herself. A conspiracy. If the old saying a fool is born every minute was true, then she was this minute’s fool. Of all the cheap, dirty tricks! Send an old lady here to soften me up, to spy on me so I’d spill my guts. You son of a bitch!
    Andi fixed another pot of coffee. Somewhere in this house there must be some cigarettes, a filthy habit she’d given up a year ago. She rummaged in the kitchen drawers until she found a crumpled pack pushed way in the back. She lit one, coughed and sputtered, but she didn’t put it out.
    Promptly at nine o’clock she called King Cosmetics and asked to speak to Peter King. “This is Dr. Andrea Evans and this call is a one-time call. Tell Mr. King he doesn’t get a second chance to speak with me. It’s now or never.”
    â€œAndi, is it really you? Listen I’m sorry—”
    â€œExcuse me, I called you, so I’m the one who will do the talking. Furthermore, I’m not interested in any lame excuses. How dare you send your grandmother to spy on me! How dare you! Homeless my ass! She said her name was Gertie and I believed her. I didn’t get wise till this morning. It was that Lily of the Valley. That always bothered me. Why would a homeless lady always smell like Lily of the Valley? She should have had body odor. All those good deeds, all those tall tales. Well, it should make you happy that I fell for it. You have to sink pretty low to use an old lady to get what you want. Don’t send her back here again either. My God, I can’t wait to get out of here so I don’t ever have to see you or your grandmother again. She actually had me feeling sorry for her because her children, she said, wanted to slap her in a nursing home. This is my R.S.V.P. for your party. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out if I’m attending or not.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about. Who’s homeless? My grandmother lives in a penthouse, and she works to help—”
    Andi cut him off in mid-sentence, slamming down the phone. She zeroed in on Rosie, who was watching the strange goings-on with puzzlement. Her owner rarely raised her voice. It was rarer still that she cried. “Do I care that his