"Maybe we should come back another time," Mari said warily.

"Believe it or not, this is normal."

Edith answered my knock with a friendly smile. And she had a revolver in her hand.

"Edith, what's going on?"

"She's going to kill me," Mordy yelled from the living room. But instead of running for his life, he was sitting on the couch sipping Manischewitz. "She thinks I'm having an affair."

Edith laid the gun on the table and whispered, "Watch out for that. I can't remember if it's loaded or not."

Never a dull moment.

"Edith, you need to put it away before it goes off." Accidentally or on purpose.

"His girlfriend called here a little while ago and I answered. She tried to make out like it was a wrong number but I know better."

"Zilch! That's what you know because it's all there is to know," Mordy groused. "Did it ever occur to you the poor woman might have just dialed wrong? All it takes is one fat finger. You're paranoid."

"I'm with Mordy on this one."

"You always take his side," Edith said, her face falling as if I'd hurt her feelings. At least her voice had calmed from its menacing growl.

"If he'd been holding the gun, I'd be on your side."

Mari was still standing at the door as if afraid to move.

"My friend is going to think you don't love each other."

"That's silly. Why would I need a gun if I didn't love him? I'd just let him go off with his little s.l.u.t and be done with him."

I blew my bangs upward to let Edith know I was exasperated, and then shook it off. If Mordy wasn't frightened enough to be hiding under the bed, I shouldn't be getting worked up about it either. "Okay, this is my friend Mari. Mari, these are the Osterhoffs, Edith and Mordy, who have been married for fifty-some years and would never actually do anything to hurt each other."

Mari smiled before nodding toward the balcony. "Whose cat is that?"

"Oh, my G.o.d!" My worst fear, other than perhaps seeing Edith shoot Mordy.

Marvin was crouched on the rail eyeing a magenta bougainvillea petal that wafted by the balcony on a gentle breeze. Before anyone could move, he leapt from the rail, and we listened in horror as his screech faded in the night.

"I can't believe it," Mari said solemnly, squeezing my knee as we drove across the Julia Tuttle Causeway. "Fifteen floors. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes..."

Mari and I had rushed downstairs alone to save Mordy and Edith the anguish of retrieving the broken body of their beloved cat, only to find Marvin still chasing the errant flower. Best we could tell, a towering royal palm had broken his fall.

As they joyously celebrated his deliverance from doom, I sneaked out with Edith's gun and slid it under my bed. She could have it back-without bullets-when she'd calmed down.

"Where shall we have dinner?" I asked.

"YUCA?"

I shouldn't have been surprised. Everything about Mari screamed Young Urban Cuban American. It was also one of the priciest restaurants on Lincoln Road.

"How about something a little cheaper? I might want a little left over for a mojito at the club." To say nothing of groceries next week.

"Then how about you let me buy dinner? And if you want to buy me a daiquiri later, I won't stop you."

"Deal." I appreciated how quickly she settled that. It wasn't fair to make her live on my paltry budget but I have my pride.Still, if we were going to see each other on a regular basis, we had to work out the money thing. "But the issue is a little bigger than just dinner tonight. I'd like to take you out sometimes too, but I really can't afford the kind of places you like...certainly not the places you've taken me to."

She hit the brakes, slowing us dramatically. "Now you tell me! That's the whole reason I wanted to go out with you, so you could take me to extravagant places and pay the bill."

"Nice...you're going to make this even more humiliating by being a smart aleck."

"It's a nonissue," she said, taking my hand as she resumed a normal speed. "If anyone should feel bad about this, it's me, because I must have said or done something to make you think I care about that sort of thing."

Mari was very good at making me feel ashamed of myself. From the very beginning, I'd thought the worst about her instead of giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"No, you haven't. I'm sorry."

"If that sort of thing mattered to me, I'd go out with someone like Delores. What I care about is if you're someone I can trust."

"I am," I answered, fully chastised.

"I know. After what I went through, that's what I need to feel. This other thing...it's a difference we're not going to fix, so just let it go. Can you do that?"

All I could do was nod obediently. I would never bring up the subject of money again, even if all I needed was change for a dollar.

With the money issue settled, we enjoyed a leisurely dinner, and by the time we finished it was a quarter past twelve. We then took a short ride up Collins Avenue and valet parked at the Fontainebleau Hotel, home to LIV, one of the hottest nightclubs on the eastern seaboard. Mari took my hand and led me past a long line of people waiting behind the stuffed satin ropes.

"Antonio!" Mari greeted the doorman with her ritual kiss to the cheek. He was only a couple of inches taller than I, with a ma.s.sive chest and arm muscles, and a shaved head.

"Good to see you, chica." He mumbled into a slender microphone that crossed his cheek and then pressed his finger to his ear. "Felix is on the right side just below the third skybox."

Bubbling with antic.i.p.ation as Antonio fastened my wristband, I didn't dare turn back to see if anyone in the line was seething at our admittance. Everyone deserves the chance to feel special. Tonight was my turn.

Beyond the door was the most spectacular party s.p.a.ce I'd ever seen, bursting with sound, energy and purple neon lights. I'd been to clubs in Boston, New York and Toronto, and it was clear to me LIV had been designed to make me forget all of them. The crowd on the dance floor wasn't near capacity, but one of the girls at work told me they held people in line because it revved them up for dancing and gave pa.s.sersby the impression it was packed inside.

Mari pointed toward an elevated deck at the far end of the dance floor, where a man wearing a lime-green shirt with an ascot mixed the music. "That's Robbie T, Felix's boyfriend."

Theoretically, I know some DJs are considered better than others, but I have no idea why. What I do know is that only the best of the best work on the busiest night of the week in a club like this one. Accordingly, I replied, "He's amazing."

"I'll have to take your word for it. I don't know one from the other."

So much for that.

We squeezed between cl.u.s.ters of partygoers who were gathered on the risers for a better view of not only the dance floor but also the skyboxes, where the VIP celebrities would gather to be seen.

On the tier below the skyboxes were several sitting areas for small groups, modern U-shaped leather sofas surrounding sleek smoke-gray gla.s.s c.o.c.ktail tables, all intended for private parties to be seen and envied. We flashed our wristbands to the bouncer and made our way to the corner.

"Mari!" A lean Hispanic man stood to welcome her with a kiss. He was dressed in a tight gray suit with a matching shirt and thin black tie. "I'm so excited you're here. And this is your lady?"

I like being her lady. "I'm Daphne. You must be Felix."

"That's me, the black sheep of the family. Not really...more like one of those dirty magazines you can't show to the little ones or the old people."

Mari b.u.t.ted in. "She's coming to Emilio's party on Tuesday if you need a beard for Mima."

"Only if you'll go with Robbie T...yeah, I didn't think so."

I learned that Felix was forty-four, the youngest of Mima's children. Besides his law practice, he played soccer in a city league and collected art.

"And every now and then, he collects artists," Mari said, gesturing toward Robbie T.

When the c.o.c.ktail waitress came around, I tried to make good on my promise of buying drinks, including a dirty martini for Felix. With tip, it would have been a whopping sixty-five bucks-the down payment on my private jet-but while I was fumbling for bills, Mari reached past me and dropped her credit card on the tray. And before I could mount even a semblance of protest, she also dropped a kiss on my cheek. Case closed.

After our second drink, which was on top of the wine we'd had with dinner, Felix came back from talking to Robbie T and announced, "Next one's just for the chicas. Hope you brought your dancing shoes."

The energy on the floor was electrifying. Besides the dancers, there were dozens of others who lined the floor soaking up the club atmosphere, including one woman who seemed to be studying Mari and me. She was tall like Mari, attractive in an athletic sort of way...meaning she set off my gaydar. From where we were, I guessed she was Hispanic, since she had short dark hair and brown eyes. The way she was studying us, it occurred to me she might be Delores. That would suck. But then Mari looked her way several times without freaking out, so that left envy, and who could blame her? I'm out here with the hottest chica in Miami.

After thirty minutes of jumping up and down to a long, lively girl tune, the sum of my day hit me like a bus. Besides the buzz from the alcohol, the excitement of LIV and the emotionally draining episode with Marvin, Edith and her gun, I had also logged eight grueling hours on the jobsite. By the time Mari and I finally headed back to our corner, it was all I could do to walk.

"Look, it's Mari and Daphne!" It took me a second to recognize Juan and Brian, the men who'd brought their jerk wad friend Michael to dinner on the yacht.

The jerk wad himself, who was hidden by the others in the corner, his face lowered to the table, suddenly sprang up, sniffing hard as he attempted to wipe the white powder from his nose. "Our little social crusader."

Felix bustled back over, all smiles to realize we knew one another already.

I, on the other hand, was in a state of shock and ready to get the h.e.l.l out of there before the cops came and dragged us off in handcuffs. When did I fall so far out of touch not to know people did cocaine in nightclubs as casually as they drank a margarita?

Mari's greeting to both men was a simple handshake, not the warm kiss she usually gave even her casual friends. I wasn't sure if she was reacting stiffly because of Michael's condescending reference or because she too had seen him snort a snootful.

Michael set his c.o.c.ktail in the exact spot where his face had been, probably to cover any leftover evidence. I guess he got nervous all of a sudden that a Pollyanna like me might not take kindly to his brazen drug use.

"Felix, we're going to head out," Mari said suddenly. "Daphne's had a long day and I have work to catch up on tomorrow. Thanks for getting us in."

I echoed her appreciation and we left hand in hand.

"Was it all right that we left? I didn't know Felix was friends with that creep. I just wasn't in the mood to listen to him tonight."

"Are you kidding?" The look on her face when I told her about the c.o.ke was one of total shock, which I was glad about. It might have been a deal breaker had she blown that off as no big deal. The very idea that a c.o.kehead had ridiculed me for my nonprofit work was absurd.

"I really do have work to catch up on tomorrow," she said as we climbed into her car. "A couple of my portfolios are out of balance and I have to figure out where I screwed up before I meet with my clients on Wednesday. If you'll let me stay the night we can have a couple of hours together in the morning. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

"You'd better. I have a gun under my bed."

As we pulled out, I caught a glimpse of the woman who had been watching us inside. Her eyes continued to follow us as she strode briskly across the valet circle and climbed into-what else-an enormous black SUV parked in the fire lane.

Chapter Fourteen.

A flower vendor met me as I stepped off the Metromover platform and I didn't hesitate to trade him a five-dollar bill for a colorful array of tulips, lilies and roses wrapped in cellophane. Though I'd already met several members of Mari's Cuban family, I was still nervous about the birthday party. Mari hadn't exactly said so, but I had a feeling Mima's opinion carried a lot of weight with everyone, so I wanted to make a good impression.

I'd taken the Metro mover to Brickell so Mari wouldn't have to deal with downtown traffic, and the whole time I was riding, I was looking below to see if the SUV happened to be there. The fact that I'd seen so many in such a short span of time was clearly a coincidence, and my paranoia a delusion of grandeur that I was important enough to follow.

I dialed Mari as soon as I saw her Porsche turn the corner. "I see you. Do you see me?"

Her Porsche came to a halt at the curb with the window down. "How much for a hand job?"

"I'll give you twenty."

We both had changed into jeans from our work clothes, and I filled mine out pretty fine if I had to say so myself.

Mari nodded toward my wrapped gift. "I hope you didn't spend a lot. There are twenty-two of us and we compare notes."

"Fine, I'll be sure to get you all a cheap book about dinosaurs. Los Dinosaurios. Is that okay?"

"Perfect. What if he asks you to read to him?"

"I can muddle along when I see it written down. My working knowledge is limited though. I know how to ask for important things, though, like vino blanco, and el bano."

"Let's hope you never need more than white wine and a bathroom."

We pulled into a wide circular driveway in front of a two-story Mediterranean-style house, yellow with white trim and a red tile roof. The yard was brightly lit, landscaped with fan palms and towering birds of paradise. At least a dozen cars, including several luxury vehicles, spilled over onto the lawn.

"Welcome to Mima's. Pepe and Lucia moved back in here with her a few years ago, but it will always be Mima's to our family."

"Is this where you rode out Hurricane Andrew?"

"The pantry off the kitchen."

The house was teeming with people, including several small children who ran screeching from room to room. All the random chatter was in Spanish until Chacho, Mari's cousin who had helped lay the sod at Saraphine's house, stopped chasing the little ones to greet us. "Hey, I remember you!"

"Daphne," I reminded him.

"La jefa." He grinned at Mari. "Pepe told us you had a new girlfriend, but he didn't say who it was."

Mari nodded. "I gave her your phone number so she can call you and Talia whenever her work crew bails on her."

Her deadpan delivery left Chacho speechless.

We walked through the elegant home, with its intricate crown molding and terra-cotta tile floors. Gorgeous Caribbean art and overstuffed furniture with abundant pillows gave the place a comfortable, homey feel. Mari introduced me to one face after another, mostly Hispanic names I'd never remember.