Page 92 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

The first model, wearing a full-body leotard, was over by the patio sliding doors being taught how to do a high kick by Grandma, also in a full-body leotard.

Can my eyes please unsee that?

The second model, wearing nothing but her skimpy underwear, was reclining on one of the beds with Maggie watching Annie on a portable DVD player sitting on her lap. “Oh, this is the saddest part,” the model sobbed, dabbing at her eyes.

Maggie was patting her arm, saying, “That’s okay. It turns out okay in the end.”

“I wish I had a Daddy Warbucks,” the model lamented.

“Me, too,” Maggie said.

Rolling his eyes, Merrill marched up to Grandma. “Any idea where I might find Delilah?”

“She went to the salvage office with your buddies,” Grandma said, and touched her toes, thus turning her butt in his direction.

With burning eyeballs, Merrill left the scene but not before he noticed a wastebasket overflowing with empty wine bottles and several foil condom wrappers. He was pretty sure Delilah would not approve.

When he got to Bell Forge, he saw that Sweet Bells was missing. Hopefully, Charlie had taken it back to the site. With all the publicity they were getting, he should probably get more patrol boats out there, just to be safe.

To his shock, he soon discovered that he already had a security patrol of his own. Elmer Judd and the twin psychiatrists, Mike and Ike Dorset, were walking around the outside of the building carrying rifles.

“Shot anyone yet?” he joked.

“Just a few reporters,” Elmer said, and then laughed at Merrill’s gasp. “Just kidding.”

The scene was ludicrous, really. Elmer was bald and about five-five, very much resembling that comic book character. On his suspenders was a star-shaped badge, which might be misinterpreted as something denoting the authority of the law but was, in fact, a veterinarian’s club honorary award of some kind. Mike and Ike, in camouflage, were much cooler with macho rifle holsters over their shoulders and handcuffs hooked onto their belts. The Mutt and Jeffs of Merrill’s policing efforts? Was that the best Harry could do in his absence?

Should he fire them on the spot, or play Andy Griffith and be more accepting of his very own versions of Barney Fife?

Gabe pulled up then, and his eyes about bugged out. But then, he grabbed Merrill by the arm before he could go inside. “You have to do something. They’re turning my house into a pirates’ den.”

Merrill started to ask him what he meant by that, but then decided he really didn’t want to know. “Your problem, my friend. I have enough of my own to handle, apparently.”

When he went inside, Harry was motioning frantically for him to come into the office. With a cordless phone to his ear, Harry mouthed that he would get to him in a moment. Instead of waiting, Merrill went into the warehouse storage room to find Delilah.

She looked up from the table where she was helping polish gold coins. When she saw him, she smiled. It was a warm, completely open smile. One a guy could delude himself into thinking was a loving smile of welcome.

He just couldn’t return her smile. Not yet.

Her smile faltered, and she tilted her head in question.

Everyone had something to say to him, or questions to ask, all of them speaking at once.

“Where the hell have you been? My voice mail has shut down from an overload.”

“Any estimate on when we’ll see some cash?”

“I’ve got a sketch of the Falcon being made into a banner. Should I pay for it in color?”

“Did you know the mayor wants us to wear pirate costumes at the press conference?”

“How’s your mother?”

“The Southern Society of Historical Reenactors wants to know if they can participate in our Celebration of Gold during the Labor Day Lollypalooza? I didn’t know we were having a Celebration of Gold.”

Merrill ignored them all, for now. Reaching out a hand to Delilah, he said, “Come outside with me for a minute. We need to talk.”

The room went silent.