Programmed for Peril

years in California—”
    “They weren’t wasted!”
    Her mother snorted. “Whatever happened to you out there confused your... priorities, let’s say. Possibly it’s up to your mother to remind you that your number-one priority now is Foster—specifically marrying him. This is the very worst time to muddy waters with him. Men in the weeks before a wedding are like deer, easily spooked and anxious for flight. You were wise to try to keep your troubles from him, stupid to take them to Lois, for whatever reason.
    “Nothing you do now should disturb Foster. He should see you as tranquil, steady, adoring, and calm. After the wedding... well, that’s a different story, isn’t it? You should do whatever it takes to cement your relationship for the present. That very much includes hiding your own troubles and nourishing your love.”
    “Mother, that is so... bogus.”
    Marylou’s face lost a shade of color. “Don’t even begin with that ‘modem thinking’ drivel! You must have Foster as a permanent part of your life, just as he needs you. But your reasons for wanting that are different because you are man and woman. Men trade in money and careers. Women trade in pleasing husbands, raising families, and nourishing emotions. Nothing you or any of your California friends believe will change the way things are in marriage—and life—the way they always have been.”
    Trish disagreed, but she wasn’t sure just how at that moment. Her quarrel with Foster had left her so shaken and unsure! “So what would you do in my place, Mother?” Marylou’s hand came to rest on Trish’s forearm. “Mend whatever harm you’ve managed today. I think you should suggest to Foster that you go away to some romantic spot for a day or two.” She nodded deliberately at her. “Give love a chance to heal whatever lacerations you caused. The bed is much better at settling disagreements than the best lawyers. Don’t you agree?”
    She might have if Foster was more adventurous in his lovemaking, and if she wasn’t so experienced. Still, he seemed pleased enough, and generous in his praise of her responsiveness. She wondered how he would feel after she told him as much as she dared about her past with Carson. She had to work up her nerve to do that before the wedding. She had already delayed too long.
    Her mother sipped her tea. “So you’ll go off with Foster for a short time?”
    Trish nodded. It did seem a good idea.
    “I suggest you call him about that quite soon.”
    “Okay.” That she was taking the woman’s advice told her how much the messages and sabotage of her business—and now the quarrel—had shaken her.
    Marylou went on: “As you’re here, I thought L might have a talk with you about something that’s been on my mind ever since you came back to me more than three years ago.” She turned her eyes fully toward Trish’s face. “I’ve bitten my tongue on many occasions.”
    “Mother…”
    “I haven’t inquired much about what you did out in California or with whom you spent your time. Possibly you’re aware of what a different person you became out there.”
    “I was there more than eight years. I grew up.”
    The skeptical crease split Marylou’s brow. “I suspect a great deal more than that happened to you. Whatever did isn’t so important as the present—and the immediate future. I want to remind you once again that you’ve gotten yourself to a point of great potential—marriage into a family of wealth and name.”
    “You say that ten times every time we talk!” Trish said. “It bears repeating. The wedding is of the greatest importance to your life. I urge you to do everything you can to get safely to that day.”
    “Even though somebody is trying to stop it?”
    “Those pranks?” Marylou sniffed. “Handle them some way. Call the police, a private investigator. I’m sure if y0u do, whoever it is will think better of what he’s doing and leave you alone.” She waved away that annoyance. “What 1 have to say to you has to do with what I’ve come in my little reveries to call your ‘California weirdness.’ By that I mean all the peculiar habits of thinking and behavior you’ve shown since your return. I won’t catalog them. I think you know what they are.” She cocked her head quizzically.
    Trish shrugged. “What about them?”
    “If you’re to succeed in your new, better life”—she squeezed Trish’s arm—“you’d best put them forever behind you.”
    The years with