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Prologue

Frances Carson and her longti Friday evening together Ignoring the boring diets their physicians had reco, of course—and were eating it fro rooood portion of the filh they were in their seventies, neither Frances nor Lila had lost appreciation for a fine male chest

The telephone interrupted their avid viewing Frances sighed and pushed the pause button on the reht back,” she promised her friend

Lila shrugged and helped herself to another slice of pizza “Take your time I’m in no hurry”

The voice on the other end of the telephone line was young and slightly husky, instantly recognizable to Frances The caller identified herself, anyway “Granny Fran? It’s Celia”

Delighted as always to hear frolanced at one of the photographs lining the top of her old upright piano, a picture of a beautiful woman in her early twenties, dark-haired, blue-eyed, dimpled “Hello, sweetheart How are you?”

“I’m fine And you?”

“Never better,” Frances answered cheerily “Lila and I were just scarfing pizza and drooling over Mel Gibson’s bare chest”

Celia laughed “Granny Fran, what are we going to do with you?”

“Arrange a weekend with Mel?” Frances suggested hopefully

Celia laughed again “You’re incorrigible And I love you for it”

“I love you, too, darling So what’s wrong?”

“What hter leaving her voice

“I know you too well Would you like to talk about it?”

“I don’t want to interrupt your evening with Lila I’ll call again later”

“Nonsense Lila doesn’t mind if you and I talk for a fewyou, Celia”

“I, uh, I guess you could say I’ a moral dilemma”

Frances waited patiently for her granddaughter to elaborate She could hear Celia draw a deep breath on the other end of the line, as though working up the courage to continue

“Dauest for a couple of weeks at one of his exclusive resorts,” Celia finally blurted out “He’ll payI want”