I nodded. “I know where Yale is.” Who didn’t? But she was young and probably felt the need to explain.

“My grades weren’t that good, but I was accepted because of who I am. My father had gone there.”

All sounded great to me. A little nepotism didn’t hurt anyone.

“But…here I am.” She turned to walk toward the door.

Here I am? That was it? “Er, Lydia, I don’t get it. Why didn’t you go to college?”

When she turned to look at me, tears spilled out of her eyes, she sniffled and wiped her sleeve across her face-then spun around and walked out.

Oh…my…God.

Lydia couldn’t get away from Newport. But why? And why not go to Yale like her dad?

I finished my tea, all the while watching the door as if I half expected Lydia to come bouncing back to explain.

What the hell had made that child so unhappy?

“What’s that noise, Pauline?” Miles asked into my cell phone as I turned toward the window in Goldie’s room.

“That’s our boy snoring his way through La La Land.”

After a pause, Miles asked, “How is he?” in the softest, most concerned tone.

Someday I wished some guy would ask about me like that.

“He’s doing great. I’m about to take my lunch break so the staff nurses will keep an eye on him.”

“I know you need to leave to eat, and I’m so glad I got to meet a few of them. Kerie Cetin on today?”

“I think the second shift. Jackie Wisherd will cover me in a few-”

The door opened and Jackie stuck her head in. I waved for her to come in. “She’s here now, Miles. I’ll call you later. Love ya.”

“Love ya too and thanks.”

I smiled and flipped my phone closed then walked toward the door. “Hey. He’s doing fine. No more drainage. No more swelling. And I medicated him about twenty minutes ago. Should sleep the entire hour.”

“Great. I’ll be in and out, Pauline. And take your time. There’s no need to rush back in an hour. Sometimes the lines at The Market can be long. Oh, I assume that’s where you go for your lunch?” She smiled.

Hm. Why did my worst-case scenario mind suddenly wonder if Jackie had been spying on me. Had she coincidently seen me at The Market, or innocently assumed I’d eat there since it was so good?

“Yeah. I’m getting their clam chowder. May I get you something?”

She shook her head. “I always bring lunch. Can’t afford that place on a regular basis.”

Interesting.

I smiled, blew a kiss to Sleeping Beauty Perlman and walked out after making sure Jackie knew my cell phone number even though it was on every chart and document around.

When I stepped into the elevator, I told myself I wasn’t that hungry at the moment, and if Jackie wasn’t going to time me, I might have to make one teeny, tiny stop first.

I stood near the elevator on the main floor and watched until Lydia had walked away from the desk and out the door. She stuck a little plastic clock on the counter that said she’d be back in fifteen minutes. After looking around to make sure the coast was clear, I nonchalantly walked toward the reception area, praying no one would come around.

Surely everyone was dining on caviar and champagne for their usual lunch. That was, except Lydia and me.

All clear, I thought, and moved in for the kill.

Hoping my stomach wouldn’t suddenly growl from hunger pangs, I walked around the desk as if I belonged there. The more innocent one looked, the more innocent they’d appear.

At least that was my motto as I snooped around-and constantly prayed.

The computer files apparently had been cleaned out, as evidenced by the new file names. No more cutesy names from poor Ian. Damn. Even the “frequent flier” title was gone, so it was going to take some time for me to find it. I looked at the clock. My stomach did in fact growl, and I told myself that I’d have to pass on computer nosing around. I clicked the mouse until the screen was back to its original desktop-so Lydia would not be the wiser.

Footsteps took my attention. I looked up to see one of the patients walking into the living room, her face a veritable ball of bandages. It was a wonder she could find her way around. Figured she wasn’t interested in me as she sat down and leaned back in the brocade chair. Probably taking a snooze sitting up was easier on her breathing. I’d seen her around before, and she never paid me any attention. Good thing.

I got up and went into the back room. Things were neatly arranged on the two desks and the bookshelves surrounding the room. Ian must have set it up like that, since Lydia didn’t strike me as the neatest teen on the block.

I walked behind one desk to find a black metal file cabinet with only two drawers. When I yanked on the top one, nothing happened. Locked. Damn. Yet good. Regular patient files weren’t locked up around there so whatever was inside this gem might be of help.

I flopped down into the chair and decided I needed to find the key. In order for that miracle, I needed to think like Jagger. The guy had such a knack for things like this! Slowly I looked around the desk area. Not much except a picture of Cliff Walk, a sailboat in a bottle (go figure) and a pen holder next to a little box that held letters. I assumed outgoing mail.

There was a tiny drawer in the bottom of the box.

Bingo? Maybe?

Gingerly I opened it. Two Cross pens that looked expensive, a black comb (probably left from Ian since Lydia didn’t look like a teen fashionista who cared about her hair) and a key. But my heart didn’t leap in my chest since it was the old-fashioned kind-long, slender, brass, actually an antique skeleton one that opened old-fashioned doors.

However, I picked up the key and twisted it in my hand, kinda hoping to get some positive vibes from it or even a premonition.

After several minutes I started to set it back in the box when I noticed that part of the built-in shelving had a pull-out section. Much like a roll-top desk cover, only flatter and in the center of the shelves.

As if it had called to me, I got up, took the key and held it toward the lock part. An exact match. When I stuck the key in, my heart did in fact leap in my chest as the lock clicked, and I eased the cover down like a makeshift desk.

Two papers flew to the floor. The rest of the inside had what looked like personal letters stacked and tied in blue ribbon and a few photographs. Old ones. I lifted one up. A handsome man holding a toddler-who looked very much like she’d grow into the teen Lydia-stared out at me. Had to be her late father. Wow. Olivia was definitely the lady in the next picture, holding the baby. Lydia? This time her hair looked too light. Then again, Lydia could have dyed it or her hair had darkened with age.

“Ah choo!”

I swung around to see the bandaged patient standing at the desk. “May I help you, ma’am? Oh, and God bless you.”

“Where’s Lydia?”

I nonchalantly picked up the papers, put them back, then eased the desk closed, locked it, and set the key back in the box-but not before “borrowing” the stack of letters. I would return them tomorrow.

“At lunch.” I looked at the clock as I stuffed the letters into the pocket of my scrubs. “I’m sure she’ll be-” As I made my way around the reception desk, Lydia walked in the front door.

Saved by the sneeze.

“Oh, here she is, ma’am. See you later,” I said to both of them and hurried out, ignoring the odd look on Lydia’s face.

I had to ignore it or-with my damn honest conscience-I might spill my guts about what I’d been doing, or at the very least spill the letters.

Wow. I couldn’t wait to look at them!

Even though the letters were burning a hole in my pocket, I couldn’t risk taking them out in a public place like The Market nor could I take too much longer since I needed to get back to my Goldie.