“No problem.” He grinned. “I'm cool with that.”

“I'm not,” I said. “I'm officially off the clock. This is family time. Can you give us somespace? We're at Disneyland.”

Truscott nodded as though he understood completely, but then he said, “Your vacationwill be interesting to our readers. The calm-before-the-storm kind of thing. This is great!Disneyland is perfect. You have to understand that, right?”

“I don't!” Nana said, and stepped toward Truscott. “Your right to stick out your arm endsat the other person's nose. You ever hear that wise bit of advice, young man? Well, youshould have. You know, you have some kind of nerve being here.”

Just then, though, I caught something even more disturbing out of the corner of my eye- a movement that didn't fit the circumstances: a woman in black, slowly circling to ourleft.

She had a digital camera and was already taking pictures of us - of my family Of Nanaconfronting Truscott.

I shielded the kids as best I could, and then I really lit intoJames Truscott. “Don'tyou dare photograph my kids!” I said.

“Now you an your girlfriend get out of here. Please, go.”

Truscott raised his hands over his head, smiled cockily, and then backed away "I haverights, just like you, Dr. Cross. And she's not my fucking girlfriend. She's a colleague.

This is all business. It's a story."

“Right,” I said. “Well, just get out of here. This little boy is three years old. I don't wantmy family's story in a magazine. Not now, not ever.”

C ha pte r 7WE ALL TRIED TO FORGET about James Truscott and hisphotographer for a while after that. Did pretty good, too.

After umpteen different rides, a live show starring MickeyMouse, two snacks, and countless carnival games, I dared tosuggest that we head back to the hotel.

“For the pool?” Damon asked, grinning. We had glimpsedthe five-thousand-square-foot Never Land Pool on our wayto breakfast early that morning.