“I know it’s easy for me to say, but I don’t want you to worry.”  He reached across the table and held her left hand in both of his.  “Let me talk to Mickey.  I’ll find out what’s going on.”  He gave her hand a little squeeze.

She hadn’t pled her innocence to him.  It wasn’t necessary. She knew he believed her to be innocent.  What she didn’t know was that it didn’t matter to him whether she was innocent or not.

“No matter what, remember I’m on your side and I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.”  He paid the check and walked her outside.  He ran his hand down her left cheek and cupped her chin in his hand.  “It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon.  Follow me home. I think a little swim, a little sun, and maybe a drink will do you good.  Besides, I brought you something from Italy.”

Ben knew how much she loved to swim.  She’d often told him that the pool was the only thing she missed about her house in Omaha.  Besides, he thought, he enjoyed seeing her in a swimming suit.

She agreed and soon was floating in the lovely warm water, listening to Frank Sinatra singing in the background.  Ben stood at the shallow end of the pool, a 1-gallon Coleman thermos in one hand, martini glasses in the other.  He held them up.

“They’re here when you’re ready.”  He turned and put them on the table between the lounge chairs.

He walked to the deep end, dived in, and started doing laps.  Luckily for her, his pool was a 20-foot by 40-foot lazy L, and his swimming didn’t disturb the raft on which floated.  She paddled toward the shallow end, got out of the pool, and headed toward a chaise and the daiquiris.

Ben continued doing laps and planned his call to Mickey in the morning.  He and Mickey had been playing basketball every Wednesday night at the gym for just over five years.  He knew Mickey as well as men ever know one another.  It struck him now that although Mickey was a detective and he was a criminal attorney, they’d never encountered each other professionally before.  He hoped this professional encounter was going to be brief.  He was as sure that Lane hadn’t murdered anyone, as he had ever been sure of anything.

Lane felt rain, and opened one eye.  Ben was bristling his wet hair over her.  She moved her sunglasses down her nose and glared at him.

“Hey Sleeping Beauty, don’t you think it’s time to turn over?”

Tony Bennett was singing in the background.  Lane pushed her sunglasses back in place.   “How long have I been out,” she asked as Ben slathered sun block on her chest.

“Maybe half an hour.”  He handed her a new drink.

“Mmmm, maybe I’ll take another dip.”  As she dived in, Ben’s landline rang.  When she had her own pool, she’d do at least 50 laps a day, but after her second lap, she decided it might be something she needed to work back up to.  Ben waved her in and held the phone up.

“For you.”  He held his hand over the mouthpiece.  “It’s Jess.”  He draped a towel over her shoulders and handed her the phone as she stepped out of the pool.

“Jess, honey how’d you track me down here?”

“So, Felix, whatcha doin at Ben’s?”  Jess was Lane’s 20 year-old daughter.  They were close, each listing the other in the top ten list of friends.  A relationship like that was also a two edged sword.  It was a better relationship than most mothers, and daughters had; but sometimes, Jess seemed to forget that Lane was the mother and didn’t answer to her.  While Jess knew that Lane’s relationship with Ben had changed a few weeks ago, she didn’t need to know all of the details.

“I was just having a swim.  What’s so important that you called me here?”

“Well, I called the house, your cell, and your office.  When I didn’t get anything but voice mail all of those places, I decided to try Ben and see if he knew where you were, who you were with, what you were doing. Sunday is your day on the Plaza; I was worried when you didn’t answer.”

“My, aren’t you the little detective.  You still haven’t told me why you called.”

They both laughed.

“Well, two things.   I wanted to see what you thought about my debut on the big screen.  And, I called to give you flight info.  You do have a birthday coming up, don’t you?  Wouldn’t want to miss that now.  I know the boys will be planning something big.”

The Boys, as Jess called them, were Lane’s sons Jake 24, and Jamie 17.  Jake, who had just graduated with a Master’s degree in Engineering, would start working soon; Jamie was just about to start his senior year of high school.  Jess’s comment was suspicious.  Jess knew the boys.  They’d wait until the day before Lane’s birthday even to think about it.  Then they’d call Jess expecting her to have made all of the plans.  They’d ask what time they were supposed to be wherever Jess told them to be.  It had been like that since they were children.  Jess was the caretaker in the group.  It wasn’t that the boys were irresponsible.  It wasn’t even that they were inconsiderate.  They just knew that their mother and their sister would make sure they were where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be there.

On the other hand, Jess made plans in advance.  Partially because she was a planner and partially because she was the one who had to make flight arrangements to get to Kansas City.  Jess was at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) studying film making and preparing to be the next Kirsten Dunst, Julia Stiles, Jennifer Lawrence, or whoever the next hot young actress is.

“Okay, here’s the flight info.”  She gave Lane the arrival time.  “So, what did you think about the movie?”

Lane, who had walked into the house during the conversation, took the flight information and put it in her iPhone.

“Well, the truth is, I’ve seen better movies.  But, you were the best convenience store clerk ever. Bar None!”

“Spoken like a true mother.  Okay, gotta go now.  Meeting some people for lunch.  Love you. B-bye.”

“Love you too, B-bye,” Lane replied in the little family tradition of hanging up.

Ben had followed Lane into the house and now was coming out of the master bedroom carrying a bottle of Panama Jack sunburn aloe gel.

“You’re going to need this.”  He said as he gently rubbed the green gel onto her suddenly burning shoulders.  He steered her toward the master bathroom as she moaned and whined about her sore shoulders and chest.

“Lucky for me, I wear one piece swim suit,” Lane said as she pulled the left strap of her suit down slightly to assess the damage.

Ben knelt down, squirted more green gel into his hand, and began smoothing it on her legs.  “You know what you really need is a cool soda bath; and then we can reapply this stuff.”  He stood up, walked to the tub, and turned on the water.  “No arguments; just do it,” he said as he walked out of the bathroom and closed the door.

Lane stood in front of the mirror shaking her head.  Her upper chest was a lovely shade of pink.  As she turned the water off and stepped into the cool water, there was a knock at the door.

“Hey, I have the baking soda.  If you want it, I’ll close my eyes and bring it in.”

Lane smiled. While they’d been dating for several weeks, they weren’t intimate.  “That’s okay.  A cool bath and the Panama Jack and it’ll be tan by this time tomorrow.  Just don’t let me fall asleep in here.  If I’m not out in twenty minutes, call the paramedics.”

Several minutes later, Ben carefully put Lane’s clothes on his bed.  Next to them, he put an oblong package wrapped in white with a red bow around it.  Then he knocked on the door to the master bathroom.  “Hey, are you all right in there or should I call the paramedics?”

“I’m okay.  Give me a couple of minutes.”  She got out of the tub, applied a liberal amount of Panama Jack on the sun-burned areas, wrapped a towel around herself, and cautiously opened the door.  She found the bedroom empty.  Next to her neatly laid out clothes, she found a small package with her name on it.   She opened the package and found a beautiful diamond tennis bracelet.  She held it in her right hand.  It must have been at least 15 cwt. in diamonds, set in what she suspected was platinum.  Aunt Marta’s voice echoed in her head.  “You can’t accept that.  It’s just too expensive.”  She could also hear Ben’s rebuttal.  “Expensive is relative to the giver’s ability to pay.”  It was something she’d heard frequently since they’d started dating.