If there is one thing about Los Angeles that seems eternal, it is the constant building, rebuilding and repairing of roads. And that, it seems, always results in one detour after another. It was one of those damned detours that changed my life. For the better, I might add.

My name is Trent Edwards, by the way. I was 26 years old when the ‘accident’ happened. I stand at an even 6-feet tall and weigh in at 175 pounds. Solid pounds; I work out on a regular basis. I guess women considered me to be pretty good looking with my dark, almost black hair, but with unusually light green eyes. My features are regular without any odd or unusual features — no jug ears, my nose is straight and not too long.

Hey, I’m not really that vain, but I think it was important to what happened after the accident. Or maybe even before. I’m not sure. You can never know when fate decides to step into your life.

Anyway, so I’m dodging around a bunch of those orange cones as CALTRANS was shutting down one lane after the other until there was only one lane left in either direction. And the intersection was messed up as well. The lights were still on the schedule that was set for the normal conditions of the road and that led to a bit of chaos. Such as cars that couldn’t get through the intersection until the other cars ahead had moved forward with the result that their rear-ends were still sticking out into the crosswalk. It was just my luck that as I was approaching crosswalk a big panel truck was blocking my view to the left. That was when I bumped (Okay, granted a hard bump) into Lily.

She (Lily, that is) just suddenly appeared in front of me in the crosswalk and I just couldn’t quite stop in time. That old lady wasn’t supposed to be in the crosswalk. The light was green in my direction, but she was a pedestrian; that gave her the right of way despite lights or anything else.

Good lord, I suddenly have a little old lady banging onto the hood of my car and bouncing off to the side towards the sidewalk. I could see her lying there at the side of the road, in my mirror; she looked like a grandmother, a gray haired little lady with a cane in her hand. I pulled over and ran back to her.

As I lifted her up in my arms, I asked, “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

Lily was feisty even then, “Listen, young man. Are you stupid? You hit me with a car and then have the unmitigated gall to ask me if I’m all right? I should probably go to the hospital to get checked out, and then I’m going to sue your ass for so much money that you will go to your final reward still in debt to me!”

I helped the frail old lady up to her feet (all five feet nothing of her) despite her threats and continued foul attitude towards me. I noticed that her long dress was made of silk. Although rather plain, it was colored a solid dark, almost black, but was nevertheless a piece of quality clothing. She still had her cane and was becoming balanced again. I began to gently brush off the back of her dress where the detritus of the road was visible. I was being gentle and I thought careful, when once again the volcano exploded.

“What are you doing young man! First you run me down and now you are trying to sneak a feel of my derriere? That is ‘my ass’ to you ignorant young people!”

“No, no. Heavens no! I was just trying to dust off the dirt and leaves that got on you. Sincerely, I did not mean to abuse you in any way!” This was becoming embarrassing. People on the sidewalk were looking at the two of us; at her with pity and at me with a lot of suspicion.

It was then, for the first time, she looked up into my face. Her eyes were the same shade of green as mine, beautiful in her wrinkled old face. Her expression suddenly softened.

“Well,” she started, this time with a much more conciliatory tone, “I suppose that I probably did need a bit of brushing off. And as for going to the hospital; I am a much tougher old bird than you might expect. Perhaps, though, you could drive me home in your car?”

“Of course,” I replied. “I would be delighted.”

As we drove, we talked. She told me to call her Lily. “For ‘Lillian” I asked. “No, for Lilith,” she replied.

I followed her directions to her home and I was surprised when she had me turn down Doheny Drive. For you non-Angelinos, that is a street with very expensive old homes, estates really, named after an old time oil baron. Look him up under Tea Pot Dome Scandal. That was when Secretary of the Interior, Albert Fall, was convicted of accepting a bribe that Doheny’s son was acquitted of paying. Ah, for the good old days!”

“Lily,” I asked as we pulled up through a pair of fancy ironwork gates to what can only be called a mansion, “You should have my information in case you find that you have injuries to your back or neck. I assure you, I will pay for any medical treatments that you need.”

“Thank you, Trent, I appreciate the thought, but I’m sure that I’m fine. And I’m not going to sue you, under one condition.”

“And that is?” I asked.

“Things get awfully lonely here. You see, I’m recently widowed from a man who I loved for many years, and I could use some company. If you agree to spend two hours a week with me playing board games (something my husband and I did all throughout our marriage) I will forgo any legal actions against you.” She said this with a smile and a twinkle in her eye that I found very intriguing. How could I say no?

“For how long?” I asked.

“Until you want to keep me company of your own volition.”

That struck me as an odd sort of statement. I assumed that it really meant that I would come by for a period of time, until I didn’t want to anymore. Why would a man of my age be spending two hours of his evening each week in the company of an old lady?

What could I say? I shrugged my shoulders and agreed, “Sure. Sounds like fun.” I wasn’t entirely convinced that I believed that (that it would be fun), but it sure was better than being hauled into a court battle with someone who looked as if they could pay lawyers to keep me broke for the rest of my life.

So began my new life.

I didn’t mention it, but I worked as a corporate accountant, managing the cost accounting department of a small company (under $200 million in revenues) on the West Side, just west of the San Diego freeway. I was young and I had my ambitions, but this was just a job. It was an 8AM to 5PM job, regular, plodding, useful to the company, but not especially inspiring. At least not to me. I had dreams of doing great things, of travelling around the world, meeting new people, doing new adventurous things.

No girlfriend, no wife, and virtually no social life. Boring, plodding. Worse, the ultimate woman turn-off: I was reliable. Getting a date with a good looking babe was almost guaranteed to find me in the ‘friend zone’ immediately, told that I was a really nice guy, but no fireworks.

Truthfully, spending an evening with even an old lady might actually be more amusing than my alternatives.

Lily had told me to come after work and join her for dinner before we played a board game. That sounded good to me. To a single man, a homemade meal that you hadn’t fixed yourself was ALWAYS a treat.

I pulled up into her driveway and went up to the door and rang the bell.

OMG! No kidding here, but a butler in a set of tails, looking very grave and formal, answered the door.

“Master Edwards?” he asked. My god, he even had an English accent. I think that she had hired Steven Frye to impersonate Jeeves for the evening.

“Yes. Lily is expecting me.”

“Very good sir. If you follow me, Madame is waiting in the formal dining room.”

Lily was waiting in the formal dining room, a huge room with room for at least 24 peoples at the large table. I know because I counted. I was impressed. There were three crystal chandeliers hanging above the length of the table, with an impressively long, fancy, linen tablecloth. There were serving tables along the sides of the rooms, with a dark wood wainscoting going up about waist high, and one of those fancy, like you only see in museums, craftsman style wallpapers extending to the roofline.

There were only two settings at the table, sitting right next to each other. There had to be a dozen different pieces of silverware in each setting. I was going to so embarrassed when I didn’t know which fork or spoon to use. Standing behind one of the chairs with a setting in front of it was Lily.

It was a bit strange that when I entered the dining room, Lily came over to greet me walking with even and quick steps and no sign of her cane. I could swear that her hair was less gray and even had a faint tint of Titian red to it. It had clearly been styled, even to my unobservant masculine eye.

“Trent, how good to see you! I hope that I didn’t interrupt any plans that you might have had.” As she came closer to me, I put my hand out to shake, but she smiled a little smile and by-passed my hand and closed in until she could place her hands on my chest. Then she reached up to my cheek and gave me a brief peck. I felt fairly obligated to kiss her cheek back. She smelled wonderful.

“Lily, it is good to see you again as well. At least tonight it is in better circumstances. And you are looking very well indeed. How are you feeling? Oh, and by-the-way, I love your hair.”

She stepped back and patted it, “I’m feeling much better, thank you! I had hair done earlier today, so thank you for noticing.

“Before we eat, would you like the nickel tour of the house?”

“Why, yes. I have been very impressed with what I’ve seen, and I would LOVE to see the rest of it.”

“Mason,” she said to the butler, “why don’t you move dinner to the small dining room. It will be much more intimate.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

The mansion was as stupendous as I expected it to be, based on the little of it that I saw coming in. I can’t even remember how many bedrooms and baths, but a family could have a shit-load of guests staying here at one time. On the second floor was a ‘Grand Ballroom’ for dancing, with room for a small band and a large grand piano in one corner. There were offices and recreation rooms, and, well rooms for anything and everything. I think there were somewhere like 30 rooms in the house, and they were all large.

Lily even showed me her private boudoir and it was embarrassing to admit, but it was by itself larger than my entire apartment.

If you haven’t caught on by now, Lily was quite rich, even if she didn’t have any of the pretensions of a wealthy person.

By the time we returned for dinner, the butler Mason was ready to serve us. Wine, soup, a fish course, a salad, a meat course, greens, and desert. All up to top flight restaurant standards.

We talked all through dinner about her travels with her husband. She explained that some of the time he traveled for work, but that he also traveled a lot for pleasure. And she always went with him. All over the U.S., of course, but also Europe, Africa, South America, Asia; New Zealand, Australia, Iceland, Greenland even a foray to Antarctica! She told me that all she remembered about it was that it was white and cold.

It was a life that I dreamed of having someday myself. She promised to show me some of the photographs later in the evening.

We took our after dinner brandies into the ‘game room’ with its sundry billiards tables, Ping-Pong tables, and a wall full of boxes containing games to play.

Lily laughed at the look on my face as she pulled out a checkerboard.

“This is how we’ll start our game playing,” she told me.

“Let the games begin!” I replied with a laugh in my voice.

So we played a couple of games of checkers. Things went as usual; whoever started, if they didn’t make any mistakes would win. We played four games. She won two and I won two.

“Now for something a bit more challenging,” she said with a smile. Out came the chess set.

The rest of the evening was a blow to my ego. We played four games, three of which she won in under five minutes. I counted the final game as something of a moral victory since it took her twenty minutes to checkmate me. She actually laughed with a great deal of glee at my demise.

I know that I had agreed to spend two hours with her playing games, but I had spent almost five hours with her and I was going to bid her adieu with a certain regret. Then she asked me for a favor.

“Trent, I’m buying a new place up in Brentwood and I’m supposed to go up there tomorrow to do a final inspection of the property before it closes. Is there any chance that I could convince you to accompany me?”

I thought about it only for a few seconds before agreeing to go with her.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning at 10:00, and thank you for being such a kind and generous young man.”

I left and was driving home when it occurred to me that I hadn’t given Lily my address, and I didn’t have her phone number to call her or text her the information. I would just have to hope that she would contact me.

At 10:00 sharp the next morning, though, a man dressed in a dark suit knocked on my door. He was Lily’s driver and he escorted me to an old vintage Rolls Royce and opened the rear door. And there was Lily.

The first thing I noticed was that she wasn’t dressed in the dark colors of mourning. She had on a pair of light beige pants with a brilliant green Hawaiian print blouse that matched the color of her eyes. She had on heels, albeit low, and a large pair of sunglasses that left you with the impression that she was an older actress trying to avoid being recognized. For a woman her age, she was looking fabulous.

“I have decided to stop my mourning and get back to the real world. To begin living life again.”

She took off her sunglasses and looked at me in a way that I didn’t understand. It was almost a predatory look, as if I was a mouse being stalked by a cat. I know, I know; sounds dumb, but that was just the way I felt about it.

We arrived at the house (dare I call it an estate!) The sales agent met us and we did the walk through. Lily and I actually spotted about a half-dozen issues in the house that would have to be repaired before the sale could close, but nothing major.

The estate had a caretaker’s residence as well as the main house. It was several times larger than my apartment. Once we were back in the car, Lily turned to me.

“Trent, I know that this would be a great imposition on you, but it is going to be some time before I can sell my property on Doheny Drive. I don’t know what your situation is with your apartment, but is there any way that I could convince you to move into the caretaker’s residence so that there would be someone on the premises at night and people would see you coming and going. I don’t want the place to look abandoned. Could you do that for me?”

It was about this time that I realized that I couldn’t say no to this woman. Did she know that the lease on my apartment was almost up and that I was undecided as to whether or not I wanted to renew it? And her Brentwood estate would be closer to work than my current abode.

We negotiated. I wanted to pay her what I was paying for my current apartment. She didn’t want the money. She would give me a lease (for $0 dollars a month) that guaranteed that I could stay there at least a year, with an option at my discretion to stay for an additional year. How could I say no?

By the middle of the week I was living in a gated estate in Brentwood, granted in the caretaker’s cottage, but a step up for me, both regarding space and saving me a shitload of money! Great views of L.A. too.

Lily had furnished the place for me with furniture that I could never afforded, or, for that matter had the taste to select. She offered to pay for storage for my existing furniture, but I admitted to her that nothing that I had was worth saving.