Maggie walked to the table and muttered a silent apology to her friend Barbara, whose kitchen was normally immaculate. “What was your…what do you call that again? The thing you tell Oscar to do?”
“My prompt,” Jo Ellen supplied. “Get with the new age of technology, Mags.”
She rolled her eyes and sipped.
“I asked him how to tell if a man is cheating. I told him everything we know. Including that we’re two old ladies in a convertible.”
Maggie’s mouth tightened. “You did not.”
“I didn’t have to. He remembers us from Miami.” She beamed at the screen. “Oscar is wonderful like that. And he totally understands this situation.”
Maggie set her coffee on the counter. “Jo Ellen, we are not outsourcing moral judgment and a plan that could impact my daughter and grandchildren to arobot.”
Jo Ellen swiveled the laptop toward her. “Maggie. Listen to what he says. ‘Considering what you’ve told me,’ she read, “‘there is one suspicious data point: a man, alone on a deck at night, laughing on the phone. That is not proof of an affair. It is…a question mark.’”
Maggie blinked. “It took artificial intelligence and a legion of teenage tech bros to tell me it’sa question mark? God save us all from this beast.”
“He’s just getting started.” Jo Ellen scrolled. “‘You are wise and loving grandmothers to worry about your precious family, the legacy that you’ve built, and the permanence of generations ahead.’”
“What is he doing? Giving us information or trying to get a date?”
Jo Ellen snorted. “They call that ‘glazing.’ It means he, you know, butters you up.”
Maggie closed her eyes. “I am not a piece of toast. Read on.”
“‘You don’t investigate the man first. You investigate thepattern. Affairs leave footprints. Not emotional ones—practical ones. They require time, privacy, and opportunity. Which means the guilty party will alter routines.’” Jo Ellen looked smug. “Smart, huh?”
“Brilliant, except Anthony’s not guilty,” Maggie said. At Jo Ellen’s raised brow, she sighed. “Well, his routine hasn’t changed.”
“Exactly,” Jo Ellen said, tapping the screen. “The robot agrees with you. Listen: ‘If those answers remain no, then the phone call may simply be…a phone call.’”
“Oh, I get it, Oscar. We just call Anthony and ask him.” Maggie scoffed. “Come on, Jo.”
“No, Mags, we don’t call Anthony. We call…” Jo Ellen looked at the keyboard and adjusted her glasses, typing quickly. Then she plopped her chin on her knuckles and watched as wordsfilled the page like magic. “Meridian Software, Incorporated,” she finally said.
“His company?”
“Yup. Here’s the number. We’ll ask for a Pamela. Why not?” She held out her hand and snapped her fingers. “Phone? No, no.” She patted the table. “He’ll know your name or number. Mine will come in as Arthur Wylie. Would he recognize that?”
“Not…instantly.” Maggie sat back, eyeing Jo Ellen suspiciously. “What are you about to do?”
“What I do best.” She tapped a few more keys. “Lie.”
Jo Ellen dialed, clearing her throat, readying for battle. All Maggie could do was…watch and listen since she put the phone on speaker.
“Meridian Software. How may I direct your call?”
“Oh, hello,” Jo Ellen cooed. “This is bit of a longshot, but does anyone named Pamela work at your company?”
The receptionist hesitated. “Possibly. Can I ask what this is in reference to?”
“Do you have to?”
Maggie frowned, leaning forward. “Jo?—”
She answered with a dramatic “shut up” swipe of her hand.
“I’d like to be sure the call is legitimate,” the receptionist added.
