“Shhh,” Lola said, putting her finger to her lips. “It’s all right. In all fairness to your father, I wasn’t a perfect mother. Hell, I wasn’t even a good mother. Oh, well, that’s all in the past. I’m so glad you’re here, Cady.”

“Me too, Grandma.”

“None of that Grandma stuff. You always called me Lola from the time you were able to talk. Don’t stop now. I don’t need to feel any older than I am. Go along and take a nice shower and a little nap. We can talk all night long if you want.”

Cady kissed her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. She was appalled at how thin and bony her shoulders were. She could feel tears start to burn her eyes. She should have come sooner. A lot sooner.

“This is the Ginger Rogers suite,” Mandy said, opening the door and standing aside for Cady to enter. “I’ll have your bags brought up shortly. If you want or need anything, just press the buzzer on the phone console. It’s clearly marked.”

“Thank you. We’ll be fine.”

While Atlas meandered around the suite of rooms sniffing and growling, Cady checked out her surroundings. Aside from a pair of silver, sequined dancing shoes in a glass case, there were no other indications that Ginger Rogers had ever slept there or even visited. She felt disappointed.

It was a showy room straight out of a decorator’s portfolio. She sniffed, trying to identify the strange smell. Wallpaper paste, she thought. Everything looked new, unused, and incredibly expensive. The carpeting was thick and hugged her ankles. The drapes were raw silk and brocade to match the custom bedcoverings on the huge four-poster complete with lace canopy. She couldn’t help but wonder if Ginger would have been comfortable in a bed you needed a ladder to get into.

Ginger must have liked the color of champagne since the whole room was done in delicate tones of white and gold. A champagne colored chair with burgundy cushions beckoned her. She just knew Fred Astaire would have loved the chair. She sank down gratefully and swung her legs over the arm. From her position in the chair she could see the sitting room and what was probably a dressing room. Same carpet, same drapes, same chairs.

She hopped off the chair to check out the bathroom. It was blinding in its whiteness. Every single thing was white. She blinked, wishing for sunglasses. She picked up a towel and was surprised at how heavy and thick it was. Not to mention expensive.

Lola had always liked fine things, costly things. She smiled when she remembered some of the presents her grandmother had sent her over the years. Things that were for looking at, not playing with. Things like rare porcelain dolls, fancy jeweled fans from the Orient, a kimono with a fire-eating dragon on the back stitched in gold thread, silver jewelry from Africa, jeweled combs, a sable hat and mittens from Russia. Then there were the wonderful storybooks, her first makeup kit, the pretty cashmere sweaters, the designer handbags, real leather gloves, fine jewelry and perfume. And then there was the time a big truck had pulled up in front of the house with a pony named Edgar. Everything, even Edgar, had been snatched away by her father. She’d never told Lola, though, because she didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d always sent long thank you notes. She wondered where those wonderful things were now. If she could only regain her memory of that long-ago accident. Atlas whimpered at her feet when he heard her sigh. She reached down to pet him. “I think I need to call my mother and let her know I arrived safely.”