She shook her head. “I’m breathless. The inimitable Henry Morgan.”
“How do you know him?”
“I don’t know him personally, but I’m a huge fan. He was the guest conductor at La Scala when I was in Italy for the Venice Film Festival years ago. He is simply brilliant. That is to say, brilliant like Bernstein was brilliant. I’ve never seen anything like it. The passion he exudes up on the podium, conducting with his whole body . . .”
She was still staring, like she wanted to eat him. Why had I invited her again?
“Is he a friend of the family? Benjamin mentioned that your mother was a cellist. I would love to meet him if you don’t mind introducing us, if it isn’t an imposition, of course.”
“Benjamin would be glad to do that,” I said.
Michelle heard the edge in my voice. Then she smiled, returning to her mission, which apparently was to win me over. I wanted to give her a tip that complimenting my mother’s special friend probably wasn’t the best way to go.
“I didn’t really have the chance to say it earlier,” she said. “But I really appreciate being included tonight. It means a lot to me. And to Maddie. She has really taken to you.”
I smiled, trying not to count the reallys.
“Of course, I realize our first meeting did not go as well . . . but I’d like to fix that,” she said.
“Being here tonight is all you need to do.”
She cocked her head, and nodded, as if she appreciated that. “For what it’s worth, your wedding dress is stunning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one quite as pretty as that.” She shrugged. “At least not running down Sunset.”
She gave me a sly smile. And I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It was all she needed. Michelle threw her head back, laughing even louder. Which was when I looked around, noticing. People were staring at Michelle, basking in that laughter, wanting to know what she was laughing about.
Michelle leaned in. “Isn’t this lovely? I’m sorry that it took so long for Benjamin to tell you about what was going on with Maddie and me,” she said. “I would have come right out and told you myself, but I didn’t think it was my place.”
“It had to come from him, though I appreciate you saying that.”
“Still, when we were in Shere last month? I certainly did push him. I told him that we absolutely had to get this all out in the open. That things really would be much better when you knew about us.”
That stopped me. “Wait, where?”
She shook her head, confused. “Surrey. Benjamin came to take care of Maddie while I was filming reshoots for this horrible movie about a bakeshop owner who falls in love with a man who is allergic to gluten. That’s what it’s about. It’s that bad. I play the underappreciated bakeshop owner, of course . . .”
Michelle was still talking, but I was stuck on the trip Ben had taken to London last month to finalize the purchase of our new home. I hadn’t been able to reach him at the hotel, and he had felt badly about it, going on about how busy he was: telling me about a work dinner at our new neighborhood restaurant, telling me he had to stay a few extra days because the sellers were being difficult about the inspection. I didn’t realize he had been telling me a slew of lies.
Ben had claimed to be setting up our home, but he was doing two things, and the other had to do with his other family. Maddie and Michelle, the center.
“He helped on the other side too,” Michelle said.
I tapped back into what Michelle was saying.
“When we got back from Shere. I had a bunch of press to deal with, and Ben was able to help with Maddie then as well. You know, our house being a mere stone’s throw away from where you’ll be living. Isn’t that grand?”
My heart started racing. “Ben didn’t mention that you were nearby.”
“Very. In fact, we have this lovely tree house in our backyard, this tall tree house that Maddie essentially lives in. She likes to have her tea parties there. Really, she likes to do everything there. I spent fifty thousand pounds on the damn thing, so that’s probably good.” She laughed. “Anyway, the last time Ben was visiting, she took him up into the tree house for one of her tea parties, and he showed her his house. Apparently, you can see it clear as day from up in her little tree. The red door and everything.”
I felt like I was spinning, unable to get my bearings. Suddenly, I understood what she wanted me to know. My streets in London were never going to be my streets. My house, never going to be just my house. London wasn’t going to be about Ben and me putting down roots in a new life. It was going to be, at least in part, about fitting around the roots that Michelle had planted.