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that out.”
Lia stopped moving, her shoulders stiffening. “I can’t let him buy my clothes.”
“Why not?”
“Well…”
“Look Lia, from what I understand, you’re doing Luc a favor—”
“No—”
“And from what I gather, the clothes we’re buying won’t be useful when you go back home. So just accept them as a gift and enjoy it.”
The concierge held the door for them as they exited the apartment building. Maggie hovered for a moment outside. “Would you like to get a cab or walk?” she asked Lia.
“Walk.” She was used to being more active, and some physical activity might ease her restlessness. Besides, she was eager to see some of the city. This was a far different place from the seedy area she’d wandered into three weeks earlier looking for The Crazy Frog.
Here, the streets were wide, edged with tall, elegant buildings intersected with formal areas of gardens, giving the impression of vast luxury and affluence. She couldn’t remember much of the city from when she was a child, and suddenly she was filled with excitement just to be here. Why not take advantage of her forced vacation? See some of the sights; Buckingham Palace wasn’t far, then there was the Tower, and the London Eye. She could take one of those open-topped double-decker bus tours just like a real tourist…
Soon the residential area gave way to shops, and their steps slowed as Lia peered into all the different windows. The clothes were gorgeous, but she couldn’t imagine herself living the sort of life where such things mattered. Finally, Maggie came to a halt outside a huge department store. Harrods had been her mother’s favorite shop. Lia had never been, but now she pushed through the revolving doors and stepped inside.
…
Hours later, Lia collapsed into a seat at a table in the Terrace Bar on the fourth floor of Harrods. Her feet were killing her, but she was surprised to find she’d actually enjoyed herself. Hopefully it was just novelty value, as she was sure it could become a very expensive hobby.
Maggie ordered lobster Caesar salad and champagne cocktails for both of them. “Here’s to rich men,” she said, lifting her glass. “May they never run out of money.”
Lia raised her glass and clinked it against Maggie’s. She had come to appreciate the other woman’s sense of humor over the past couple of hours; Maggie was quick-witted, kept up a constant stream of incisive comments about the other customers, and she definitely knew about clothes. The dress she had chosen for Lia was perfect; even Lia could see that. It was long, very simple, and midnight blue, which according to Maggie brought out the color in her eyes.
Lia took a sip of the icy cold drink. It was delicious. She put down her glass. “So Maggie, did you know my father?”
“Not really.” Maggie’s tone was wary.
“But you must have, if you knew my mother.”
“I told you—I knew of your mother—I didn’t know her. Look, love, I’m sorry, but I can’t talk about your father.”
Lia’s brows drew together. “Why not?”
“Let’s just say I made a promise and leave it at that.”
“A promise? To whom?” It was a stupid question, really. Who could it have been but Luc?
“Change the subject, Lia.”
Obviously, she was going to get nothing out of Maggie about her father. Why had Luc told her not to talk about him? Why was it such a big secret?
“So tell me about Luc’s mother then. Luc said you were friends.”
“Isabella was a beauty.” Maggie was obviously happy to talk about Luc’s family if not Lia’s. “She was wasted on Luc’s dad. Her family pretty much disowned her, or she disowned them, when she took up with him.”
“What was his father like?”
“No good. He was also married at the time, never did get around to marrying Bella. But she loved him. He had some of Luc’s looks—his eyes.” She shivered dramatically. “A woman would put up with a lot of crap for eyes like those, not to
Maggie Brendan
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