Yeah, I also entertained the idea that he left-jealous of Neal-and didn’t want to be around to see me go on another date.

“Is something funny, ma’am?” the maid asked.

I looked at her and realized I actually had been laughing-hysterically.

“Hey, Gold,” I whispered as I touched his hand. “It’s me, Pauline.”

He opened one eye and smiled. “Morning, Suga.”

“How you doing, buddy?” I sat on the edge of the bed and studied the bruising on his face and knew that was all par for the course. “Any pain?” Suddenly I wanted to bite my tongue. Old nursing trick: With patients like my dear Goldie, who had a low tolerance for pain, one should never bring up the subject of any discomfort and put it into their heads! How many times had I asked a patient if they had a headache and suddenly they did.

He moaned. “Some. Maybe I should take something?”

“Well, you were sleeping pretty soundly, Gold. I only woke you because your breakfast is here and I don’t want it to get cold. How about you eat and then we’ll see if you need something.” I stood up and Goldie grabbed my hand.

“Thank you, Suga.”

I winked at him and fixed the tray so he could sit up in his bed and eat while I promptly told him all about last night, including the auction and the Samuel newspaper incident.

“Don’t make me laugh with these damn bandages on my face, Suga. A ghost!”

“Hey, I’m really buying into it, Gold. He’s so real. And the strange thing is, he seems to know Jagger so well!”

We both laughed, and I sat in the stuffed chair near the window, fairly certain that dear Goldie, in his Burberry nightgown, false eyelashes and a silken bed jacket, was not in dire pain.

Since Goldie had assured me that he was fine while he ate breakfast in bed and watched Martha Stewart on television, I headed downstairs to return my stolen goods. Dear Goldie had given me some tips on how to sneak them back into the desk, and to make sure I’d wiped off any fingerprints-just in case.

Lydia was sitting at the computer, obviously lost in work. When I came around the side of the reception desk, I smiled. Solitaire. The kid was playing a game of Solitaire.

Actually, it then struck me as sad.

She should have been out with friends or in college and having the best time of her life, not holed up in this dead-end job because she was a relative.

What the hell did Olivia, and probably Devin, I’d bet my last dime, and Dr. Cook all have to hide that they needed to involve Lydia?

“Hey, Lydia. How about a tea? I made you some Earl Grey.” I set her mug of tea next to her computer. Getting the tea was part one of my getting the letters back. If nothing else, Lydia would be preoccupied, or at least have to leave for a few seconds since I purposely didn’t fix her tea correctly.

“Thanks.” She looked at her tea. “No milk, Pauline.”

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot how you take it,” I lied. “I’m fussy about my tea too, so why don’t you go refix it. I’ll watch the desk for you.”

She hesitated a second, looked at her cup and said, “Don’t touch the computer.”

Bingo.

I smiled to myself at my success and only frowned when I thought that I wished Jagger were there to give me an “atta girl.” Oh, well. I was on my own and apparently doing fine. No. Spectacular!

I hurried into the back room, looked around several times to make sure no one snuck up on me, and got the key to the desk. Before the clock’s handle could move, I had the desktop opened, the letters safely tucked back inside, and eased the cover closed.

Then I swung around to see that heavily bandaged woman standing at the desk-watching me.

When I got back to Goldie’s room, I shoved the door closed so hard, he shouted. “It’s just me, Gold. Damn. That was close.” I told him about getting caught by “Lady Bandage” and how Lydia had come around the corner just in time for me to hightail it out of the office area-without an explanation or lie needed.

“Got the letters back safely then?” he asked, pulling the covers up tighter over his shoulders.

I helped tuck them behind his arms. “Yep. Phew. I’m not sure my heart can take that kind of investigating!”

We laughed until Goldie said his nose hurt. “I can’t wait to see it, Gold! You are going to look so fab. Not that you didn’t already!” Vanity wins out, I thought as Gold started to talk about his new nose and how he too couldn’t wait to get the packing out and the bandages off.

Then I thought of Neal and my heart did a little jig of excitement-and not because I had a new nose.

Suddenly I was glad old Jagger had left Newport.

“Goldie, I need to find out more about Mrs. Olivia Wheaton-Chandler. Any suggestions?”

He looked at me over the bruises on his face. My insides knotted. He’d done this for me. Sure he’d benefit, but I was still feeling badly about his discomfort.

He shifted in the bed. “Let’s see. Lydia is her niece. There’s your connection. You need to buddy up to her to get to the old lady.”

“I’d thought about that already, but Lydia is a strange child. I’m not sure I could penetrate her teen armor.” I chuckled.

Goldie reached out and touched my hand. “With all your nieces and nephews? You can do it, Suga. You can.”

Feeling as if I really could, I made sure the call bell was within reach, the phone nearby and the remote in Goldie’s hand, and went back to “visit” darling Lydia.

This time when I got off the elevator, I noticed “Lady Bandages” walking out the back door to the solarium. Good. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about her eavesdropping, whoever she was. Actually, by the looks of her bandages, she probably had other things on her mind besides watching me. I’m guessing a fast, pain-free recovery.

Lydia was still sipping her tea and looking at the computer. Perfect. Maybe the soothing warm liquid would make her feel more comfortable with me since I’d gotten it for her. Make her feel as if I cared. I really did, in a friendly sort of way.

How I hoped she wasn’t involved in any nefarious activity.

“Getting hungry, Lydia?” I asked, walking up to the desk.

Her head swung around, the tea splashing out onto the computer, and she cursed like a sailor. Oops.

“Sorry. Here let me get something to wipe that with,” I said.

“I got it,” she said as she took a tissue from the box. “Yeah. I’m about to go eat. One of the stupid nurses is supposed to cover for me but no one’s shown up yet. Jerks.”

I shook my head inside. Poor Lydia really was an unhappy teen-which would seem very common, but her pain went deeper than acne, boys or weight.

Lydia seemed like some tortured soul.

And what would cause such hurting?

After Jackie Wisherd had shown up to cover the reception area for Lydia, I followed the kid out the doorway, fast on her heels. “Can I walk with you to The Market?” I asked.

She didn’t even turn around.

Hm. “Lydia?”

Nothing. She was already out the long driveway.

I hurried closer. “Lydia!”

Stopping, she looked over her shoulder. “What?”

I noticed she had earphones on and the music was so earsplitting that I could suddenly understand the words to a rap song-then wished I couldn’t. “Oh, didn’t mean to be so loud, but I’d called you a few times and asked if we could walk together to The Market.”

Okay, she looked at me as if I were nuts, but something about me must have made her a little comfortable or at least trust me a bit. “I’m not going there, but…umm…you can come with me to eat.”

“Fine.” I figured I could find something I’d like on any menu. “Where to?”

“My aunt’s house.”