“Arkansas.” I shake my head. “I worked hard to erase all of my past.” Why am I telling him so much? Stop talking.

“I came from a small town, too. I know how it is.”

Hoffman is kind. “I was a beauty queen, did you know that? Had my choice of suitors.”

“I’m not surprised.” Hoffman winks. Is he flirting?

My stories seem to have worked their magic. Uncharacteristically, I told him the truth. I’m out of practice. Despite everything that is happening, with anonymous notes and lying daughters, I feel my cheeks flush.

“Here we are.” Hoffman points to a spectacular contemporary hugging the cliff.

A front-row property. I had no idea. I should have checked Josh’s address sooner. Despite my admonition toward dating in high school, it seems this one could have been a good catch.

Maybe he still has feelings for Betsy. Or, maybe like me, he’s just mad at her.

Anger can be a more powerful emotion than love, I’ve discovered. And revenge? Well, hell hath no fury as a lover scorned, they say.

Let’s see how much scorn Josh feels, shall we?

22

1:30 p.m.

Nothing stands between the ocean and me except a coffee table, a thin balcony and a big drop. This house has been built with disappearing walls of glass. And they are gone.

Given my fear of the body of water in front of me, this is a nightmare. But I need answers. My palms are sweating but I’m practicing deep breathing and ignoring the view. Instead, my eyes focus on the Picasso above Sandy’s head. When Josh speaks, I stare at the Miro. This place is a challenge for my late-in-life mastery of artistic masters. But so far, I’m two for two.

Cultural education wasn’t part of my upbringing, as you may have discerned by now. I filled that gap with online courses, visits to the art museums in LA and, of course, travel to all the most important cities of the world courtesy of David. Just ten years ago we celebrated our anniversary on safari in Africa. It was all first class, the meals gourmet, the wine divine. And each day on the game rides we’d watch animals hunt and kill each other. When a baby elephant charged our open safari jeep, David jumped across the seat to shield me. My hero. There really is nothing like the circle of life to bring you closer. But I digress.

Not only am I awkwardly terrified by their spectacular house and its perch, I’m also underdressed, based on Josh’s khakis and white pressed T-shirt, and Sandy’s black designer dress. I look down at my shorts, my casual go-for-a-walk-in-the-neighborhood attire. Who knew I’d be popping in for high tea? There isn’t anything I can do about it right now. But I am a quick study. If I ever visit the Hamiltons’ home again, I will dress accordingly.