"What is it?" She darted toward the living room in her bare feet. She couldn't decide on the shoes until she'd decided on the earrings. "For heaven's sake, Simon, we have to leave in a few minutes, and I'm not—" Her jaw dropped, mimicking her son's as she looked out the front window with him at the black stretch limo sliding in behind her ancient hatchback.
"It's the biggest car I've ever seen in my whole life !
"Me too," Zoe replied. "He must be lost."
"Can I go out and see?" He grabbed her hand, tugging on it as he did when particularly frantic. "Please, please, please! Can I go touch it?"
"I don't think you should touch it."
"A man's getting out." Simon's voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "He looks like a soldier."
"He's a chauffeur." She laid a hand on Simon's shoulder as they peeked out the window together. "That's what they call people who drive limousines."
"He's coming to the door !"
"He must need directions."
"Can I just go out and look while you tell him how to get someplace? I won't touch it or anything."
"We'll ask." She took Simon's hand and walked to the door.
Simon was right, she thought as she opened the door. He did look like a soldier—tall and straight, with a military bearing in his black uniform and cap.
"Can I help you find someone?" she asked him.
"Ms. Zoe McCourt? Master Simon McCourt?"
"Ah." She tugged Simon a little closer to her side. "Yes."
"I'm Bigaloe. I'll be driving you to Mr. Vane's this evening."
"We get to ride in that?" Simon's eyes went wide and bright as twin suns. " Inside ?"
"Yes, sir." Bigaloe gave Simon a quick wink. "In any seat you like."
"Sweet!" He pumped a fist, gave a hoot, and would have charged to the limo if Zoe hadn't hauled him back.
"But we have a car. And a dog."
"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Vane sent this."
Zoe looked down at the note Bigaloe held out, recognized the stationery. "Simon, you stand right here," she ordered, and released his hand to open the envelope.
The single sheet of letterhead read:
Don't argue this time either.
"But I just don't see why…" She trailed off, undone and defeated by the desperate plea in Simon's eyes. "We'll be out in just a minute, Mr. Bigaloe."
"You take your time, ma'am."
The minute she closed the door, Simon threw his arms around her waist. "This is so awesome!"
"Yes. Awesome."
"Can we go now? Can we?"
"All right. Get your jacket, and the present we made for Bradley. I need my purse." And my shoes, she thought. It looked like it would be the marcasite earrings tonight.