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Authors: Lillian Grant
as debauched as our youngest daughter. I might be beyond salvation, but she still holds out hope for Meg.”
    Sam frowned. “Sorry. What’s that?”
    Robert picked up the newspaper lying on the floor next to his chair and tossed it at Sam. “Page two.”
    He put his drink on the table and opened the paper to the offending page. God, Meg would be mortified if she ever saw this. The headline, “ High Class Male Prostitution Business Busted ,” was bad enough. But the picture of the police escorting her, Michael Monaghan, and Maud from the Plaza Hotel was worse. He dropped the paper to the floor. He couldn’t bear to read the article. No doubt the reporter made the whole business sound a lot more sordid than it had actually been.
    Sam got to his feet. “I need to talk to Meg before she reads this.”
    “Sit down, son. Until her mother’s finished, you won’t get a word in edgeways. And Meg’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”
    Did he want to walk into the middle of a huge row between mother and daughter? He ran his fingers through his hair. If only he hadn’t been so jealous of Michael Monaghan he might have known the mess Meg had gotten herself into and been able to save her before it got to this.
    “You love her, don’t you?”
    Sam glanced at Mr. Riley. Letting out a loud sigh, he nodded.
    The older man grinned. “Good. Now sit down and drink your scotch. You won’t get anywhere taking Vivienne on head first. If you want to get your house back and win the hand of my daughter you need to play the long game, son.”
    * * * *
    Meg glanced at the wall clock. She had no idea why since the battery had gone flat months ago. It gave the impression time stood still, and right now it seemed to have.
    “Are you listening to me, young lady?”
    With a sigh, she turned her attention back to her mother. “Of course.”
    “So you agree with me then?”
    A warning claxon went off in Meg’s head. She’d trod this path on many occasions as a child and been burned. She could still remember the horror of the big, pink, puffy meringue dress she’d worn to her cousin Emma’s wedding. The creation was lovely, if you were four. Meg had been fourteen, and the humiliation of having her new beau Shane Tait laughing at her and calling her a cake topper had never quite disappeared. She thought he was madly in love with her. He was, and with half of the girl’s rugby team, apparently. She knew better than to say yes to anything her mother said when she hadn’t been listening.
    “Sorry, agree with what?”
    Her mother rolled her eyes and Meg steeled herself for a telling off. “Going away with me somewhere until this all blows over. I know a nice ladies’ retreat that Father O’Dowd recommends. Have you seen the paper?”
    “What paper?”
    “The local newspaper.”
    Meg shook her head. “Nope. The neighbors steal our free copy from the mailbox. I think they use it to line the kitty litter tray for their awful cat. The one that likes to sneak in here and scent spray everything. Cats are horrible, aren’t they? Another cup of tea? I think I might have some TimTams somewhere.”
    A fierce stare pinned her to her seat. Apparently, not even a shared dislike of felines or the offer of some light refreshments would put her mother off her stride. She did have a grenade she could lob into the conversation if need be. But sharing the knowledge her sister was a lesbian was best saved for a real emergency, like if her mother really tried to cart her off to a women’s retreat somewhere.
    “I’m not here for my benefit. Despite what your father says, I’m sure you’re not beyond redemption, even if you did lead a poor innocent old lady astray.”
    Okay, this was getting tedious and she doubted her father had said any such thing about her, and Maud was many things, but innocent wasn’t one of them. Her mother didn’t usually beat around the bush. The only topic that had her hedging was sex. The hint about Maud confirmed

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