Page 54 of A Very Happy Easter

Text me the address.

We got ready to roll, bundling ourselves up in coats and scarves because it was cold out tonight. Polly had a bottle of bourbon sticking out of her handbag, Kirsten had found a bundle of tote bags, and Vic was carrying scissors.

I nodded to the bottle. “Good plan. If we get cold, we can warm ourselves up.”

“Totally. Someone has a lighter, right?”

“A lighter? We’re drinking the bourbon, yes?”

Polly looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh, yes, drinking it. That works too.”

The gates opened, and Jerilyn drove in, followed by a black Audi from the car service I used and a man on foot carrying a bunch of roses.

“Which one of you gals is Edith Kennedy-Renner?” he asked, and five people pointed at me.

“Here you go, ma’am. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Roses? Who had sent me a dozen red roses? Salma held the bouquet as I opened the card. The message was short and sweet.

Thinking of you.

“Those are from Heath? That’s so sweet—the guy’s a gem.”

“Who’s Heath?” Vic asked.

“Heath Carlisle—Edie’s boyfriend.”

Thanks, Salma.

“Oh my goodness. I didn’t realise you were dating anyone. That’s great.”

“We’ve only been seeing each other for a few months, nothing serious at all.”

Salma rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. The guy’s hotter than Hades, and you text him two hundred times a day. I’ll put the flowers inside.”

“Wow, where did you two meet?”

I stuck with the prearranged cover story. “At my brother’s Halloween party. His brother is engaged to Eisen’s wife’s sister.”

“And Heath’s sister is Serena Carlisle,” Salma put in. “You know, the actress? The one who did that play with Marc di Gregorio?”

I glared at her. “Weren’t you going to put the flowers inside?”

“Oh, right, I was.”

“Well, go and do it then.”

“Aw, but gossiping is so much more fun.”

I pointed at the front door.

“Go.”

She sloped off, and I sighed. Yes, I’d hired Heath to play a part, but now that he was doing it so perfectly, I found I didn’t actually want to share our relationship with the world.

“So, do you have a picture?” Kirsten asked as she squashed beside me in the back seat of the Mercedes.

“Of what?”