“Me,” I admitted, crawling out from behind the couch. “I called them. I thought someone was hurting Anna. What are you doing home?” I said accusingly.

“Taking a nap,” he snapped. “What are you doing home?”

“Half day,” I shot back. “Are you okay, Anna?”

“Of course she’s okay,” my father yelled.

“Anna?” I waited for an explanation, but she just shook her head and smiled. It was a coy smile, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“Okay. Fun’s over!” Daddy barked, motioning the cops out of the house.

They scurried down the stairs. Roy pretended to check something on his walkie-talkie and Little Hervé narrowed his eyes at me as they walked out the door.

My father sat down on the top stair and began to shake. I thought he was going to have a heart attack or explode in anger. But when he looked up, he was laughing. He laughed and laughed and laughed, and then Anna sat beside him and started laughing too. The two of them bowled into each other, their faces contorted. They clutched their bellies and each other, laughing so hard that tears rolled down their cheeks.

I steamed with fury. What was wrong with them? I glared, waiting for their hysteria to subside and for someone to come comfort me and tell me how brave I had been, to thank me for being worried and protective of Anna. But every time one of them tried to stop laughing, the other would start again. They were acting like annoying kids on a school bus, or like when Nicole and I stayed up too late. I stood there, hands on my hips until their laughing fit wound down into bursts, like the last kernels of popcorn popping. Anna wiped her eyes as my father helped her stand.

“Well, well,” my father chuckled, holding his side.

“There is a pie in the fridge,” Anna said to me. She pointed to the kitchen.

Then they disappeared back into the bedroom and closed the door.

A few weeks later they announced their engagement. At first, I thought they were kidding. In my mind, they hardly knew each other except as employer and employee. Anna’s whole reason for being in our house was to take care of me. What did that have to do with my father? I couldn’t imagine them marrying. I mean, when exactly had they started dating? Except for that “nap day,” they slept apart. Daddy still played tennis on the weekends and went to screenings alone.

Then, invitations went out announcing the October 15th wedding.

And that summer, for the first time, I was sent to sleepaway camp.

INT. DEPARTMENT STORE, BEVERLY HILLS

DAY