Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(80)

“How’d you swing those?” Doyle asked, amused and touched at how thoughtful Tilly’s gift was. He hadn’t discussed it with Tilly, so she must have picked that up from their talks at dinner the other night.

“I had Landry overnight two packages of them to me. Along with a couple of other things I needed that I’d forgotten, like thumb drives. I figured why not?”

“You are bloody amazing, Tilly!” Pippa was already trying to rip one of the packages open.

Doyle took it from her to show her the tab on top before she ruined the package.

“I think she’s in love with you now, Til,” he teased, handing the cookies back.

“These are my absolute favorite biscuits!” Pippa pulled one out and looked close to blissful as she nibbled on it. “I totally fell in love with these when I had to film in America last year. Even the regular ones taste different than the ones here.”

“Enjoy,” Doyle told her. “And if you need me, call me.”

“I promise. Night in front of the telly for me. I have the meditation album on my iPod I can play.”

“Good.” He grabbed his overcoat and gloves and let Tilly lead the way.

“You really good with my backward driving?” she snarked as they waited for the elevator. “Or you giving in because you know what a pain in the ass I am, and that I’ll just get my way anyway?”

“Your driving can’t be any worse than mine,” he said. “I hate driving here.”

“Car park,” she said in a British accent. “Lift. Nappies. Biscuits.” Then, back to Tilly. “I mean, they even talk weird. Why do they call cookies ‘biscuits?’ Chips are ‘crisps’ and fries are ‘chips.’ I just don’t get it. Sneakers are ‘trainers.’ Like most f*cking people wearing sneakers aren’t training for anything other than sitting their ‘arses’ in front of the ‘telly.’ I don’t care what Landry promised me, nearly a dozen damn seasons and counting of Doctor Who still has not prepared me for this. And it’s f*cking wet and cold.”

They stepped into the elevator.

“That was your first mistake. You should have watched Fawlty Towers. Funny as f*ck. And Landry’s a sadist. He just wants you to watch the whole series with him. Where are you up to, then? Tennant or Capaldi?”

“Who?”

He snorted, resisting the urge to turn the conversation into a sci-fi version of “Who’s on First?” “The actor playing the Doctor. Which one is he?”

“Baker. I think. I don’t know. Clown hair and a long-ass scarf. He’s like the fourth one we’ve watched now.”

“Oh, damn.” He laughed. “Landry started you with Hartnell in the original series?”

“Um, suuuure. It was in black and white, if that helps.”

“You still have a long ways to go, honey. You’re not even like halfway through the entire series yet.” They stepped out into the lobby and Doyle lifted a hand to the concierge as they passed. “Where’d you park?”

Now she went Cockney. “I slipped the guv’ner a quid I did to let me park right out front, what.”

“No,” he said. “You’re definitely an East Londoner kind of girl.”

She smirked. “Kiss my ass, Dr. Freud.”

That was one-hundred-percent Florida Cracker.





“So where are we going?” Doyle wasn’t familiar with the area at all, but Tilly seemed to know exactly where they were going without even needing GPS.

“Dinner. Charity thing. Leigh and Lucas bought the tickets, but when their schedule changed, they handed them off to me.” She smiled at him. “Pediatric hospital that specializes in cancer research.”

“Ah. Worthy cause.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“Am I dressed okay?” He looked at his slacks and blazer, his overcoat protecting him against the damp drizzle.

“You’re fine. I would have made you change if you weren’t. It’s not a formal affair. It’s for kids and their families. Some of them will be there, talking about their experiences. Survivors and current patients.”

They weren’t in London proper, it appeared. In fact, it looked to be more rural, large houses and acres of land, upper class, if he had to guess.

“Where’s this being held at?”

“Some earl or duke or potentate’s house. I can’t keep the dang titles straight.” She switched to a snooty British voice. “Mosswater Hall, what.” Back to Tilly. “I mean, that’s not it either, something like that. I’ve been here before for a couple of events. He’s a government official and he does a lot of charity work. I really shouldn’t make fun of him, and I promise to behave myself tonight. He and his wife are very sweet. We worked with them on a TV documentary last year about a military charity for wounded vets who help with adaptive sports and getting handicapped athletes to the Paralympics.”

“Ah. Okay. Wow. That sounds impressive.”

“Yeah.”

They fell into an easy silence as they rolled through the gloomy evening. Eventually, Tilly slowed and turned into a driveway where a guy standing under a picnic tent leaned out to speak to her as she stopped. After checking them off on a clipboard, he spoke into a radio and waved them down the long, winding driveway that disappeared into the trees. Fortunately, glowing stakes were evenly spaced along either side, marking the path.