Page 7 of Murder on Charity Lane

“I thought Anthony was helping you,” Ocean said.

Anthony glared at Miles. “I am.”

“You can’t even find Chile!”

“So show me again.”

Ha. Anthony was asking Miles to help him memorize the countries, so Miles would learn them. Typical Anthony. Clever in his understated way.

“Once the show is done.” Miles dragged Anthony toward the living room. “We’re going to miss the cuddly fish.”

Anthony gave Ocean a look, either amused that Miles called them “cuddly fish” or impressed that Ocean’s date was so hot. It was hard to tell with Anthony. Then Ocean said thanks but no thanks to the gin and tonics, and Mrs. B said don’t you mean gins and tonic, and Ocean said, why not gins and tonics, and CJ sort of looked at them until Mrs. B patted Ocean’s arm and said, “Have a lovely time. I’ll keep an eye on the kids.”

Ocean ushered CJ outside, then said, “Well, I’m glad she announced that you see her naked.”

“Miles is so cute. And Anthony is exactly like you described.”

“I could take him in a fight.”

CJ laughed. “Do I get to meet Riley?”

Ocean had done the dating math and figured that CJ was physically old enough to be Riley’s mother. Just barely, but still, that made the age gap feel okay. Except CJ seemed so much younger, like a generation closer to Riley, which made her a little uncomfortable. So she sputtered for a moment, before spotting Sophie heading across the courtyard to Nicholas’s cottage.

“Oh! That’s Sophie, who you’re inviting to the party. I told her to expect a call from the kindly woman who helps Mrs. B with her bra in the YMCA locker room.”

“Is that really how you described me?”

“Sure. The undergarment fairy.”

“Undergarments,” CJ said, her eyes gleaming with teasing laughter.

“That’s what we called them in my day! Your bloomers.”

“And Sophie knew what you meant?”

“Sure, after I explained that Mrs. B flutters around the locker room after water aerobics until someone helps with her bra clasp. Though on second thought I’m not sure ‘flutters’ is the best description.”

CJ laughed. “Mrs. B is who I want to be when I grow up.”

“I’m still waiting to see who Mrs. B becomes when she grows up,” Ocean said.

“You can’t fool me. You adore her.”

“Yeah.” Ocean gave CJ a lingering look. “I’m not great at hiding my admiration.”

CJ took her hand and led her away.

5

CJ

After she finished swimming her laps the next morning, CJ Moore flip-flopped across the YMCA locker room, listening to the old ladies from the water aerobics class chatter about “polyps” and “Pedro Pascal’s posterior.” In the shower stall, she stripped off her swimsuit, which made her think of Frank. Not that nakedness reminded her of her elderly boss. No, but he’d given her the far-too-expensive designer one-piece a few birthdays ago, along with a note insisting that she swim laps at the Y pool every morning instead of coming to work so early.

He would’ve preferred that she use his pool, but she didn’t like mooching off him too much. Also, despite the size of the mansion, Frank’s pool was a bit small for laps. He claimed that she’d earned job flexibility after years of managing his house, his music, his prescriptions, and his money. And for tolerating—though he’d never say this aloud—his wife.

She’d accepted the gift and secretly worked the extra hours anyway. He needed the help. And she adored him. She’d started working for him directly out of college and he’d grown to become her mentor and friend and, yeah, a father figure.

By the time she was dressed, most of the old ladies were gone—though not Mrs. B. For reasons CJ didn’t understand, Mrs. B didn’t like towels at the Y. She preferred to use the hair dryer to wick water from her body. Her loose skin fluttered in the breeze like fleshy prayer flags. Maybe not the most beautiful sight, but there was something liberating about an old lady who simply didn’t give a crap.