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eight inches tall with thinning gray-blond hair. Very fair-skinned, he had patches of freckles aver his forehead and along the crests of his cheeks. His eyes were the faded blue of stonewashed jeans and his lips were so orange, they looked tinted. I imagined him to be well into his early sixties.
    He extended his soft, well-manicured,
    strawberry-twirl-skinned hand to me and held on to mine as he introduced himself and spoke highly of Mr, Bassinger.
    "I had the occasion to call upon his services once on behalf of a client of mine," he explained.
    "Small world, wouldn't you say?"
    His polished smile was highlighted by his ivory teeth. I had the funny idea that in a previous life, he must have been an ice cream cone, cool, refreshing, and full of cherry vanilla.
    "Yes, yes, it is." I agreed.
    He ushered me back through the wide corridor to his private office. It looked immaculate, almost untouched and unused. Fresh flowers adorned the coffee table in front of the soft leather settee and the right corner of his desk as well. In this office was hung a portrait of himself with his standard poodle.
    Awards and plaques from various charitable organizations were arranged in the shape of an X on the wall to the right of his large, black-marble-topped desk. A set of what looked like gold-plated golf clubs in a rich leather bag stood against one wall.
    I saw immediately that the files for Jaya del Mar were spread over the coffee table and a chair had been brought around for him to sit facing the settee and me while we discussed the situation.
    "Please," he said, indicating the settee. "Would you like something to drink? Bottled water, coffee, tea, juice, soda... whatever."
    "Nothing, thank you."
    He looked surprised and waited for me to sit before seating himself For a moment he stared at me with a wide, almost incredulous grin that made me a bit uncomfortable,
    "I was expecting Grace to accompany you." he said. was looking forward to seeing her. It's been some time."
    "She's not up to it just yet," I said. hoping I wouldn't have to go into a long explanation about Linden's condition,
    "I suppose not. She has had a very tough time.
    very tough time. Well then. I'll tell you what I know. I know that you have a trust that will generate a fixed amount of income. and you have asked Mr. Bassinger to arrange for me to help you organize that income so you can cover all the basic expenses of Joya del Mar.
    Your funds will cover that monthly nut, as we say," he continued, flashing his smile.
    "Good," I said, releasing the air I had trapped inside me out of fear I would learn my plan was impossible and all I had promised would be another broken rainbow for my mother and Linden,
    "However, I don't know if you have been made aware of a sizable lien against the proper[y."
    "A lien?"
    Little jolts of electric fear surged under my breasts.
    "A lien is a legal maneuver a creditor will make to force you to pay what you owe him. In this case.
    your grandmother's third husband. Kirby Scott, pledged the property against a line of credit at the bank, which he then defaulted upon."
    "Oh. What does that mean exactly?" I asked.
    My experience with financial matters was very limited. In fact, in the weeks following my father's death. I had learned more than I knew my whole life.
    "It means that your mother cannot sell the property without first paving off this debt. and something has to be paid toward it on a regular basis."

    "How much are we talking about?" I asked, and held my breath.
    He closed and opened his eyes, indicating that it was going to be a painful response.
    "A quarter of a million dollars." he replied.
    "And then there is the accumulating interest, of course. It complicates matters."
    "What did he do with this money?" I asked, wondering if there was a way to get it back.
    "Your guess is as good as mine. I'm afraid.
    Most likely lost it in Las Vegas or Monte Carlo. I'm sorry to give you this news."
    "Does my mother know?"
    "I send her reports,