Late that night, Max stood in the foyer wearing a sleeping gown and a long nightcap with a fuzzy blue tassel on the end of it. His feet were covered with slippers and he looked to be padding his way from the kitchen to the main staircase.
“Look what the car dragged in,” he said to Malibu, who had just walked through the front door. Earlier in the day, Max had given her a key so she could come and go as she pleased. She now had the run of the place.
“What’s with the getup?” Malibu asked.
“This is what I sleep in. I had a bad dream so I came downstairs to get a glass of warm milk to settle my nerves.” He indicated the glass in his hand.
“Sleep? Isn’t it a bit early? Shouldn’t we have dinner first?”
“Dinner was six hours ago. I made a roasted chicken with vegetables and potatoes. Madam i
