Lili nodded absently. “Yes, January first.”
Nina threw up her hands. “Does everyone know this fact except me?”
Lili ignored her. “Here we go. There’s a site that lists all the trivia teams in the East Los Angeles Pub League. Is that your league?”
Nina nodded.
“And what’s his team name?”
“You’re a Quizzard, Harry.”
Lili looked over at her and made a face. “Really? And you think he’s not bookish?”
“Oh,” said Nina, “good point. Not sure that being a Potter fan makes you bookish, per se, but I suppose it does mean he can read.”
“Are you criticizing Harry Potter?”
“Never. I’m a Ravenclaw.”
“A bookworm like you? What a surprise.” Lili was scrolling down a page of some kind, the screen hidden from view. “Here it is. Team members . . .” She paused and frowned suddenly. “Thomas Byrnes.”
“Burns like Edward or Byrnes like David Byrne?”
“The latter. With a Y.” Lili was still frowning. “That’s bizarre.”
“Why?”
Lili didn’t answer and then looked up and smiled suddenly. “Nothing, I got distracted.” She closed the computer. “So now that you know his name you can stalk him to your heart’s content.”
“I don’t know if that’s really my scene.”
“You’re lying.” Lili grabbed one of the blank seed packets and started working on it.
“Yes, I’m lying,” Nina said. “But I’m not in the market for dating right now. Things are pretty tight, time wise, and I have my life together and organized, and I think a boyfriend might be too much.” She started babbling. “Besides, I don’t know if I can manage the Instagram-worthy relationship, with its photo opportunities and matching sweaters and public declarations. I find it hard enough to relate to people in private; having to do that while also creating an effective online presence as a couple . . .”
Lili looked at her, her hand still for a moment. “You do realize it isn’t mandatory to live your life online, right? For thousands of years we managed to be miserable or joyful in private. You can still do it.”
Nina shrugged. “Sure. But even in private, being with someone else feels like . . .” She trailed off. “It feels intrusive.” She thought of something else. “Besides, I have this whole other thing going on.” She told Lili about her family, about her dad, while Lili drew and said, “Mm-hmm,” every so often. Eventually Nina said, “Besides, even if I didn’t have a new cast of thousands to deal with, what would that guy and I talk about once we’d finished discussing Harry Potter? He’s probably only seen the movies, anyway.”
“You’re a snob; there’s nothing wrong with the movies, and I think that whole thing is an excuse to avoid dealing with it,” replied Lili, turning the seed packet over and looking at it. She held it up to Nina. “How’s this one?”
The packet had the name Nina on it, written in vines, surrounded by amber poppies.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Good,” said Lili, “because it’s for you. You’re coming to the wedding.”
“I’m not invited.”
“You are now. Clare invited you. And she doesn’t like to be crossed.”
“That’s true,” said a voice from the doorway. Clare was standing there, holding several sheets of paper, with her editor, Frank. “I finished my book and I’m ready for bed.” Then she looked at Nina. “You can come to the wedding, but you can’t sit with me until after the ceremony, because I am a flower girl, and that is a Series of Responsibilities.”
Nina opened her mouth but closed it again.
“Thanks very much,” she said.
“You can thank me after,” said Lili, getting to her feet. “Assuming you have a good time.”
Nina laughed, getting up, too, and dusting herself off. She seemed to have acquired a pretty thick layer of dog fur, lying on the floor. Oh well, it was a chilly night.
“Besides,” added Lili, walking her to the door, “weddings are great places to meet people.”
Then she and Clare stood at the door and waved good-bye to Nina.
Eleven
In which Nina meets more family, and wishes she hadn’t.
The next morning, Nina got a text message: Danger, Will Robinson. Expect call from Sarky. See you later. It was from Peter Reynolds, and it made her frown. She was having her morning planner time when the text came in, and she looked over her day carefully. Was there space for a legal assault? Not really. And if there wasn’t space, it wasn’t going to happen. A schedule was a schedule, people, and without a proper schedule, the day would descend into madness, anarchy, dogs and cats living together, etc. The Ghostbusters reference reminded her of another Bill Murray movie, Stripes, where he begs his girlfriend not to leave, because “all the plants are gonna die.” She grinned and flipped ahead to schedule a Bill Murray movie marathon. See? Even in the most organized life there is room for whimsy. It just needs scheduling. As her heroine Monica Geller would say, Rules help control the fun.
The call from Sarkassian came in a few minutes after the store opened, which was considerate at least. The lawyer sounded somewhat apologetic.
“I’m afraid to say your niece, Lydia, has raised the specter of legal action against you. She’s asked for a face-to-face meeting at our offices today. Would you consider attending?” He did sound like he was asking, rather than ordering, so Nina considered it.
“Legal action for what?”
Sarkassian coughed. “Fraud. She thinks maybe you’re not actually a Reynolds.”
Nina laughed. “And did you tell her that I don’t care at all about being a Reynolds, and in fact would have been totally fine never knowing who my father was?”
“Yes, but there is the matter of the will.”
“Cut me out of it, then. I really don’t care.”
Sarkassian sounded horrified. “You can’t simply cut someone out of someone else’s will. Besides, it might be a great deal of money.”
“Or it might be a giant inflatable middle finger. Let me be completely clear: I. Don’t. Care. My life is fine as it is. I don’t need any complications.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then, “Well, I know that, and you know that, but perhaps you could tell Lydia that in person? Please, Ms. Hill, it would be enormously helpful if you could attend the meeting. The rest of your immediate family will be there.”
So that was why Peter had given her the heads-up. He already knew about the meeting.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Thank you.” The lawyer did sound relieved, and Nina wondered what he was scared of. “My assistant will contact you with details.”
Dammit. Now she was going to have to change her planner. Nina hated changing her planner.
The lawyer’s office was in a glintingly tall glass and granite building on the corner of Wilshire and Crescent Heights. While not exactly forbidding and Borg-like, it was dark enough that should a battalion of Stormtroopers have emerged from the parking lot, Nina wouldn’t have been surprised. Well, she would have been surprised by the Stormtroopers per se, obviously, but it would have made sense they were coming from that building. The point is, the lawyer’s building was intimidating and Nina was intimidated.