Bailey said nothing to that, but she turned her head away and smiled.
“So what’s that about?”
“What is what about?” she asked, turning back to look at him.
“That smug little smile. Did I just make a fool of myself in your eyes?”
“It’s just that Jimmie wasn’t poor.”
“Oh? Then why’d he leave you broke?”
“He—” Bailey shook her head. “I don’t know. I can figure out some of the reasons why he did what he did, but why did he leave me this place in this town? I always had the idea that Jimmie hated his childhood, and that’s why he refused to speak of it. But if he hated his childhood, why leave me his childhood home? If it is his home. I don’t even know that it is.” She looked out the side window and willed herself to calm down.
“Last night,” Matt said softly, “I got my computer hooked up, plugged it into a phone line, and got the Net up and working. I paid thirty-five bucks for a property search on your house. I should get some info on Monday.”
Bailey didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If it came onscreen as belonging to James Manville, no matter how Matt planned to keep the knowledge a secret, it would get out. And would he change toward her when he found out?
“Bailey?”
“Yes?”
“Patsy’s planned a little get-together this afternoon, and . . . ”
“I’m invited?”
“You’re the guest of honor.”
“You mean, they’re going to ask me thousands of questions about every aspect of my life?”
“Probably. Plus they’ll, well, try to marry you off to me. Matchmaking is the major occupation of my sister-in-law.”
“For everyone or just you?”
“Me, mainly. I think she’s afraid I’ll move back into her house unless some woman takes pity on me and marries me.”
“What in the world did you do to offend her that she’s so anxious to get rid of you?”
“My sister-in-law lives to sew. She has a room upstairs set up with a sewing machine and a big table to cut out her patterns. Sewing is her claim to fame in this area. Whenever there’s money to be raised, it’s Patsy they ask to supervise the sewing committees.”
“And?” Bailey asked.
“For the last six months my bed has been in her sewing room,” he said softly.
“Oh, my.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“So. Is Patsy paying the rent at my house, or are you?”
“Very funny,” Matt said, but he was smiling as he pulled into Patsy’s driveway.
Just as he said, Bailey was the guest of honor—and all his immediate family was there waiting for them. There was Janice and her husband, Scott, who Bailey hadn’t met, and who Bailey discovered she didn’t like very much. He was what Jimmie used to call a “deal man”: he was always, constantly, trying to make a deal about something. As Bailey shook his hand, she was very glad that he didn’t know she’d been married to a billionaire, because she was sure that Scott would be trying to sell her something. As it was, three minutes after they met, Scott was trying to get her to sell her Toyota and buy a Kia from him.
Matt put his arm around Bailey’s shoulders and led her away. “Don’t listen to a thing Scott says. If he gets too much for you, I’ll deal with him.”
Bailey adored Janice’s two young daughters, Chantal, seven, and Desiree, four. But she felt sorry for them because they were dressed in pink cotton pinafores that had been ironed. Both girls ate their hot dogs as though they were terrified of getting their dresses dirty.
Patsy’s family seemed to be as informal as Janice’s was formal. Her big, handsome twin sons seemed to be terminally bored, and they tended to fall asleep every time they sat down.