“You play hardball real good, Mandy. He’s the boy’s father, isn’t he? The one who died. Am I right?” Mandy nodded. “He still has some time. Doesn’t the majority rule in something like this?”

“I don’t know, Lola. I guess it’s back to Plan A.”

Lola’s eyebrows shot upward when the phone rang again. She knew immediately that it wasn’t the mayor on the other end of the phone. “Answer it, Mandy. I’m thinking it’s Mr. Cyrus King on the other end.”

“Jor Dan residence,” Mandy said. A smile tugged at the corner of Lola’s mouth as she watched Mandy listening to the caller. “I’ll see if Miss Jor Dan is taking calls this morning, Mr. King.” Her eyes questioned Lola. She held out the phone.

“This is Lola Jor Dan, Mr. King. What can I do for you?” She listened, her eyes starting to spark. “There’s no place for verbal abuse in my life, Mr. King. I simply won’t tolerate it. Let me remind you of something in case you may have forgotten. I know all about your dirty little secret. You know us Hollywood types. We can’t keep anything to ourselves. We thrive on media attention, unlike you phony churchgoing types. You will apologize to me now, or you will be reading about that dirty little secret in tomorrow’s paper. Yes, yes, I accept your apology even though I know you don’t mean it. I’m sorry, I’m no longer interested in buying the grove. The offer was on the table for ninety minutes. The time has expired, thanks to you. Don’t ever call me again, you son of a bitch!” Lola dusted her hands dramatically after she handed the phone over to Mandy.

“Whoa,” Mandy said.

“Don’t say it, Mandy. I hate that man. I mean I really hate that man. We can talk about this later. We’re back to Plan A. We’ll get dressed and go to the grove as soon as Cady leaves the house. When we get back, we’re writing one of those letters to the editor. We’ll fax it to the paper. They might even put it on the front page.”

Herself was really into it, and Mandy was ecstatic. She clapped her hands in glee. “Encore! Encore!”

“Thank you.” Lola bowed over the table. “Unfortunately, my performance didn’t get me what I wanted.”

Upstairs, Cady stood inside her closet, her eyes wide and speculative as she tried to choose an outfit for the day. Whom did she want to impress? The guys or Amy? None of the above, she decided. I’m going to dress for myself in one of these gorgeous outfits, but which one to choose and what color? Yellow had always been her favorite color, but she’d never bought yellow clothing. She’d been a beige, brown, gray, or black kind of person. A dull, boring introvert who had no distinction. Now there wasn’t a beige, brown, gray, or black anything in her closet. Not even a scarf or a pair of sweat socks. What she had now was every color of the rainbow. She had business suits, pantsuits, dresses, dresses with jackets, skirts with blouses and sweaters that matched. She had party dresses, cocktail dresses, evening wear, shawls, and rows and rows of shoes. She even had three full drawers of delectable underwear and sleepwear.