The Notorious Mrs. Wright. Fay Robinson

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      Emma tried to keep a straight face. She turned her head and gave Abby a warning look.

      Turning back to Santiago, she made a peace offering. “We can lock the dumbwaiter, if that would help. I don’t mind cooking for Tom. You’re sweet to send up dinner, but I can take care of it.”

      Santiago glanced at Tom. Emma thought she saw something pass between them, some private message she wasn’t privy to.

      “No, no, Susan. Santiago does not mind making plate for Tom when he asks. Tom is good boy.”

      “Are you sure? He can always come down here to eat. Or I can cook for him.”

      “No, is okay. Tom promise to keep bird in cage. Santiago fix dinner and send upstairs when Tom want.”

      “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

      The crisis over, Santiago and his helpers returned to work. Abby, Emma and Tom walked through the kitchen to the hallway.

      “You’ve got to make sure both Houdini and Rambo stay upstairs,” Emma warned her son. “Or we’ll have to give them away. Understand?”

      “But Mom—”

      “No buts. It’s unsanitary for Houdini to even be on this floor, much less near the kitchen.” She began to stroke the bird’s breast, but jerked back her finger when he tried to nip it.

      “I’ll make sure they don’t get out again.”

      “I’m going to hold you to that.” She reached up and lovingly mussed his hair. He’d shot up like a weed this summer and had gotten so handsome. “Go on. Your boss will be wondering what happened to you. And be sure to close the upstairs door.”

      “Don’t forget I’m going to Tony’s after work and staying over there tonight.”

      “Will his parents be home?”

      He rolled his eyes. “Yes, his parents will be home.”

      “Okay, but if you go out, curfew is still midnight.”

      “Ah, Mom, nobody my age comes in at midnight! Aunt Abby, tell her, will ya?”

      Abby held up her hands. “Sorry, Tom. I’m staying out of this one.”

      “Be back at the Parkers’ on time,” Emma told him. “I’m trusting you.”

      “Oh, okay,” he grumbled with the kind of long, exaggerated sigh that only a teenager can make. “Are you gonna let me take scuba lessons with Mr. Parker? You promised to think about it.”

      “I don’t know, Tom. We’ll talk this week.”

      “I’ll pay for them myself.”

      “We’ll see.”

      “Mr. Parker’s got extra equipment and stuff. I wouldn’t have to buy any. And he’s giving me a great discount.”

      “I said, we’ll see. Now scoot or you’ll be late.”

      Tom started up the back stairs still grumbling.

      Houdini squawked. “This is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world.”

      “Yeah, yeah,” Tom told him.

      Abby laughed, and Emma couldn’t help chuckling, too. She leaned into the stairwell. “And Tom,” she called out. “Before you leave, make sure the TV is set on cartoons or PBS. I don’t think Houdini needs to watch any more Clint Eastwood movies.”

      BACK IN HER OFFICE, Emma fixed herself a cup of hot tea and one for Abby, then plopped down in her chair again.

      “That menagerie is going to be the death of me. If I’d been smart, I’d have given them away when we moved in here. You know how important this place is to me. Every one of our inspections has been perfect, and I want to keep it that way. No parrots in the kitchen.”

      “Even fricasseed and stuffed?”

      Emma laughed. “Especially not that.”

      “Tom would be upset if you gave them away.”

      “I know. Maybe it won’t come to that.”

      She’d threatened almost daily to find other homes for the animals, but she’d have a difficult time following through. Tom cared about them. They’d been a bequest to him from Marie Marshall upon her death eighteen months ago. Marie was the same woman who’d earlier given Emma her collection of movie costumes and props.

      Emma had kept the collection in storage for several years, thinking Marie would change her mind and want it back. But then Marie had died brutally. She’d surprised a burglar in her Hollywood home and been slashed repeatedly with a knife.

      Emma saw no reason to hang on to the items after Marie’s death. She looked into the value of movie memorabilia and found, to her astonishment, she owned a gold mine.

      The most valuable costumes she had put up for auction. She used the money to finance the restaurant and create a trust fund for Tom’s education. Those remaining were displayed in the dining room and stored on the third floor. The staff wore imitations rather than the real thing.

      Without that generous gift, Emma would still be waitressing, working for tips and soaking her aching feet every night. She felt an obligation to take care of the pets Marie and her late husband Bert had loved. But living with a smart-mouthed bird and a three-foot iguana was beginning to try her patience.

      “I see Tom’s still got his heart set on being a navy diver,” Abby said, sitting on a corner of the desk. “I thought he’d outgrow that.”

      “Me, too.”

      “Has he said anything else about enlisting?”

      “Yes, but I told him he’d have to do it over my dead body.”

      “Susan, honey, you can’t blame him for wanting to be like his father.”

      “I don’t, but he’s got the opportunity now to go to college and make a life for himself that’s far more desirable than the one I’ve given him. I refuse to let him throw that away over an idealized image of a man he never met.”

      “You act as if he’s had a terrible life, but you’ve done okay by him.”

      “I could’ve given him more.”

      “How? By working three jobs a day instead of two?”

      “By providing a more stable home. I counted it up the other night, Abby, and in seventeen years we’ve lived in nine different places. I was doing the best I could at the time, searching for better jobs and better pay, but it was hard on Tom to keep starting over in new schools.”

      “He hasn’t suffered from it. He has perfect grades. He’s never been in any trouble. Tom’s a great kid.”

      Emma smiled, proud of her son’s accomplishments. Tom was the one thing she’d done right in her life. “I know he’s a great kid, but sometimes he zeros in on something and won’t turn it loose.”

      “Like his mother.”

      “I admit it.”

      “Have you talked about this with him?”

      “I’ve made it clear that he can’t, under any circumstances, drop out of high school. I want him to get a college degree, too, maybe even go on to graduate school or medical school. He knows I won’t give him my permission to join the navy.”

      “Honey, when he turns eighteen in two months he won’t need your permission.”

      “I know.” She’d suffered many a sleepless night over that horrifying fact.

      Payback for her sins. That was it. The older Tom got, the more he wanted to know about his father and to be like him. And Emma perched precariously atop a powder keg of past lies,