Free Moonlight on Monterey Bay by Sally Goldenbaum Page A

oysters—they’re an aphrodisiac, you know, and sometimes, well, with the kids and all, a little extra help is nice.” Her hand flew through the air. “And anyway, guess what happened? Jack was so exhausted, he fell asleep while I was clearing the table. And just as I was getting my second wind!
C’est la vie
,” she said with a comical grin. And then she turned her full attention to Sam. “All right, now tell me about you. You’re not here on business, Sam, are you?” Her eyes beseeched him to say no.
    Sam laughed, and Lily went on, “Tell me that you and Maddie are—”
    Maddie broke in quickly. “Lily, I think what you need is Jack. He’d love it if you went home and woke him up in one of your artful ways. Do you want some tea before you leave?”
    Lily ignored her. She leaned forward, scrutinizing Sam’s face. “Now I remember who you are. Sam. The beach house.” She frowned. “You are not what I imagined, Sam-of-the-beach-house.”
    Sam settled back in the couch, his hands folded behind his head, a half smile on his lips. “And what was that, Lily-of-next-door?”
    Lily laughed. “Good. A sense of humor. That’s important.”
    “Important for what?” Sam asked.
    “For courting my dear friend, Maddie.”
    “Lily! Sam is—”
    “—far more handsome than you admitted, Maddie, but I knew you were hiding something.”
    Maddie shook her head, then said to Sam, “Lily’s shy.”
    “And charming,” Sam said.
    Lily leaned forward and patted his knee. “I knew from everything Maddie didn’t say that I would like you, Sam Eastland.”
    Sam matched her serious tone. “And I can tell I like you, Lily.”
    Maddie watched the exchange. It amused and surprised her. The sophisticated Sam Eastland and Lily, who had probably finished the bottle of wine when Jack fell asleep on her and would no doubt blurt out anything that popped into her head.
    “Maddie is a fine, fine person, Sam,” Lily said, nodding as she spoke.
    “Lily, quiet already. Sam doesn’t need personal references. I already got the job.”
    “Go on, Lily,” Sam said. “This information might come in handy someday, who knows?”
    “That’s what I always say, Sam. Be prepared.” Lily laughed again, a deep belly laugh that pulled both Maddie and Sam into it. And then she went on, her eyes glued to Sam’s face, “I’ve known Maddie for almost five years. She practically delivered my twins—and let me tell you, she’s top drawer and don’t you forget it.”
    Sam held up one hand. “You have my word, Lily. I won’t forget.”
    “I know you won’t.” Lily’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “And I know you’d like me to stay longer,but really, I can’t.” She closed her eyes, shook her head, and pushed her hands out in front of her. “No, no, don’t protest. I must go. If Jack wakes up without the cold soles of my feet against his wonderful hairy legs, he’ll worry.”
    Sam stood as Lily pushed herself out of the chair.
    She grinned at him. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sam. You come back anytime.”
    “Funny, I thought this was my house,” Maddie said.
    “Of course it is,” Lily said sweetly. Then to Sam: “And you can come to my house too. Come meet Jack and my munchkins. They’re the cat’s meow. Come anytime.”
    “Thanks, Lily,” Sam said, and took her elbow. “May I help you home?”
    “A gentleman,” Lily said to Maddie, and winked.
    Maddie groaned and held open the front door for Sam and Lily to pass through.
    “Oh, lordy,” Maddie murmured.
    “I can’t see a thing,” Lily said. “I think I’m blind.”
    “Damn,” Sam muttered.
    Spread out in front of them, as thick and murky as a sea of oatmeal, were billows of gray-black fog. Maddie peered into the darkness. She couldn’t see anything. Not streetlights, or house lights, or moonlight.
    Nothing but dense, oppressive, travel-restricting fog.

FIVE
    It took only a few minutes to weave blindly through the fog and get Lily safely home. When