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I text Ivy and ask her to meet me somewhere. If I don’t nip this, there’s no telling what she’ll do next. I thought she seemed trustworthy and reasonable, like Violet in many ways, but maybe I was wrong.
Ivy, we need to meet in person and clear this whole thing up. What do you say? I hope she’ll take the bait. In reality, though, I want to ream her up one side and down the other for the mess she’s made. I don’t understand how she could possibly think Connor and I had an affair while Allegra was alive. It makes zero sense. First of all, Connor wouldn’t do that. And second of all, we couldn’t have gotten away with something like that without Allegra knowing. I would never be the other woman, and I would think Ivy would realize that from the little she’s gotten to know me.
She responds faster than I’d imagined she would. Fine. Same Starbucks—in one hour.
Okay, I reply but wonder why she always gets to be the hurt one. As far as she knows, I’ve done nothing except engage in a silly game of Chinese fire drill with Connor. She has no real meat to her side of the story. No secret conspiracy, just paranoia and speculation. And her accusations are eating away at me because there’s nothing worse than being falsely accused.
My anger stems from my need to be liked. When someone doesn’t like me, it drives me insane, and I get defensive. I know that in her eyes, it appears that I’ve done her and her best friend wrong, and I truly want to help her see the truth from my perspective. I just hope Connor’s kids don’t get wind of all this drama.
***
STARBUCKS IS BUSY, which is good. Maybe our raised voices and name calling won’t alarm anyone since it’s loud in here already. I take a seat inside a booth toward the back, just in case. Fewer rubberneckers this way. Ivy walks in five minutes later, gives me a nod, and waits in line to order her coffee without coming over to say hello first. I can’t say I’m surprised by her slight; I would expect nothing less at this point. Instead of checking my phone to occupy myself, I make sure I look good and impatient by clicking my nails on the wooden table.
The line takes a while, and Ivy looks my way and shrugs, accidentally bumping the man in front of her on the back of the head. I can’t hear her, but she clearly apologizes to the man, who turns around and yells at her.
Her hands motion for him to stop, but he points at her face, and all heads in the coffee shop twist their way. Blood pumps through my body in preparation for something. Fight-or-flight is kicking in, and I don’t know which one it’s going to be, but it’s definitely not “freeze.” Once the man touches Ivy’s shoulder, forcing her backward, “fight” has won. I see fear on Ivy’s face, and despite our issues, I jump up from my seat.
I step between the two of them with my hands stretched out, trying to create as much distance as I can without touching anyone. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, sir. C’mon now. There’s no need for anyone to touch anyone else. She said she was sorry. She was trying to signal something to me from across the room and obviously didn’t mean to hit you on the head. Her hand’s so dainty it couldn’t have hurt that bad anyway.” I laugh to lighten the mood, but he isn’t buying it.
The man is a jerk and an outnumbered one at that. Two angry men glare at him from behind Ivy and me, making it clear whose side they’re on should things escalate.
“Fine!” The man yells at me as he turns around to finally place his order with the terrified barista. Everyone else in the shop gradually turns away. The show’s over.
“Oh my God. Can you believe that man?” Ivy whispers as if exhausted from the episode. She takes a deep breath and places her hand on my shoulder. “Hey, thanks for that. It was really nice of you to defend me.”
I take her hand in mine since the momma bear in me has emerged. “Why don’t you go sit down, and I’ll get your coffee. Black, right?”
“Yes, that’s fine. And thanks again.” Ivy walks over and unfolds into the booth, like an overcooked spaghetti noodle.
When I approach her with two cups of steaming coffee, she asks, “Why did you do that?”
I roll my eyes and smile. I would think it’s obvious that despite everything, I sympathize with Ivy and don’t want anything bad to happen to her. “You’re not exactly my favorite person right now. I came here to tell you off, but obviously, God had other plans for us today. Did you honestly think I’d stand by and let some strange man get physical with you?”
Ivy looks down as if she realizes she’s pegged me incorrectly. “You know I went to the police yesterday, don’t you?”
I tilt my head to the side and lift an eyebrow. “Sure do. They paid me a nice visit this morning when I was trying to take my son to school. He was late, by the way.”
“If I’m wrong about you, I’m sorry. I just have to know for sure, for Allegra, that this isn’t some twisted game. I’m so worried I missed something somewhere, and all these what-ifs keep popping into my head. Like, what if you and Connor are playing me like a fiddle and he was having an affair this whole time?” Ivy throws her head back onto the booth’s headrest. She must realize how silly she sounds.
I place my hand on top of hers and lean in from across the table. “I get it. But you know I just met Connor, so even if some crazy scenario was true, it wasn’t with me. And while I’m on the subject of cheating, he’s clearly not the type. Trust me.”
“Not the type? Really? He’s running around with you not even two months after Allegra’s been dead.” Her accusatory eyes are bloodshot and hardly blink.
“That’s different. We’re just friends, honest. We’ve really connected over experiencing the same kind of loss. I opened up about losing my husband while having a child to take care of soon after. That’s why we’ve been hanging out.” I hope she’ll understand. “And I did my homework on the cheating thing, by the way. For the case’s sake, I had a very attractive friend of mine run a test on him. He passed with flying colors. Cheaters don’t normally pass up a good opportunity like that, and he even lied and said he was married, for Pete’s sake. So no, he’s not the cheating type.”
Ivy jerks her head back again, and I’m not sure whether she’s surprised that we tested him or shocked that he passed. “He really said that?”
I nod with a grin, knowing she won’t have much to say against him now. “Yes, he did.”
She sighs, and I wonder if she’s beginning to see the light. “Maybe I’m wrong, then. And if I am, I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”
“You’re still not convinced we’re just friends, are you?” I sense her uncertainty.
“I don’t think you two had anything going on before she died, but you might right now.”
I sit and say nothing. I can’t bring myself to tell her I sense genuine feelings between us at times, because it could all just be in my head. I can’t even say that out loud because it will undoubtedly sound absurd.
I sit in silence and get lost thinking for a few more seconds, and Ivy suddenly gets mad at me all over again.
“Guess your silence answers it for me, then.” Ivy rises from her seat as if to leave. “I assume your ‘relationship’ means the whole story is compromised now, doesn’t it? That’s quite the conflict of interest.” She grabs her bag, jerks her coffee from the table so fast that some of it spills, and walks out the front door without another word. I don’t bother trying to convince her the story will go on as planned. And just like that, “a source” has something quick-witted to say.
Finding out who our friends really are is always a good thing—a source.
***
“DRAMA DOESN’T EVEN begin to describe your life right now,” Violet says over the phone. I can hear her munching on popcorn as we talk. In her wild mind, my life is playing out just like an episode of Desperate Housewives or Pretty Little Liars.
“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much,” I whine. “You know this isn’t a soap opera, right? This is my real life.” I turn onto Connor’s street to stop and say hey.
Vi retorts with what I imagine is a straight face. “Yeah, I know that. Of course I know that. It’s just so entertaining. How in the world did you get into this giant pickle, Mad?”
“Personally, I blame Perry. He started this crazy train,” I snap as I pull into the Hudson driveway and turn off the engine.
“But you wouldn’t take it back, though. I know you.” Vi throws the harsh truth in my face. She’s right; with all that’s happened, I’ve already learned a lot about myself. I feel like I’m on the verge of some huge epiphany with the case, despite my fears about being in danger.
“Probably not. I didn’t do anything wrong, even if Ivy Richards thinks otherwise. Surely it’ll all get cleared up soon, right?”
“A hundred percent. You’ve got nothing to hide, at least. I just hope Connor doesn’t either, or you may get dragged into it.”
I glance at Connor’s house from my car window, convinced that if there’s one person I’m right about, it’s him. “No, I just feel like... I just trust him. I really do. He’s different from most men.”
“I know, I know. But he’s blurring the lines of grief, friendship, and potential romance. You’re the one who told me that no one is one-dimensional, Miss Writer.”
I hate when she throws my words back in my face. It’s like being hit with a boomerang between my eyes, a boomerang that, unfortunately, I threw myself. “Yeah, I know, but I don’t know that he’s trying to pursue anything but friendship with me. It’s just, sometimes, I sense that he is, but I could be wrong about that. Plus, even if he were, he and Allegra were basically separated these past few years. So although he misses her and he’s grieving, he’s probably been ready to move on romantically for a while.”
Connor opens the door and waves me inside, so I end the conversation with Violet and lock my car.
“I have to break up with you now. Well, ‘fake’ break up with you.”
I’ve almost reached him, but I shuffle back a few steps as the words sink in. “You have to do what? What does that even mean?” Suddenly, I’m second-guessing myself.
He places his hand on the small of my back as he leads me inside the house and into the den. “Come, have a seat. We have a lot to talk about.”
We sit side by side on the sofa, and he offers me a can of sparkling water that’s sitting on the coffee table. “Guess who paid me a visit today? After the police came, of course. She actually just left.”
I yank my hand away. “Don’t tell me Ivy Richards met with me today then came straight here to bash me to you?” I instantly regret telling Ivy about Violet and me testing Connor’s loyalty, and I wonder if she told him that story as well. But of course she did; it’s the perfect way for her to end our friendship. “What did she tell you?” I cringe.
“Apparently, your friend ‘Vivian’—I think that’s what you told me her name was—is actually Violet? The lady I visited for a consultation the other day, whom I genuinely thought was bat-shit crazy by the way.” He laughs.
Butterflies dance throughout my stomach as I wonder whether he’s hurt, mad, upset, or indifferent. His sarcastic laugh tells me he’s either mad or upset.
“Listen, I was unsure about you at that point and was looking into every avenue to properly work on the case, and I probably never should’ve—”
He cuts me off. “I’m really not upset. I was just giving you a hard time. I honestly think it’s hilarious and ridiculous, totally something you would do.”
“Totally something I would do? What is that supposed to mean?” My neck jerks backward. It’s not like I’ve made it a habit to test men’s loyalty by using my best friend as bait. And if I had, Connor definitely wouldn’t know about it.
He chuckles. “It’s not supposed to mean anything, really, only that you were checking facts. That’s all. I’d expect nothing less from a journalist.”
“You’re not mad, then?” I’m surprised he’s taking it so lightly.
“No, not at all.” Connor grins. “But we’ve got to make Ivy think I am.”
I sigh with frustration at the mention of her name. “And why is that?”
“Because me getting mad and cooling things off with you proves to her that we really weren’t together before Allegra died. If we had been, you wouldn’t have needed to put me through the test, because we would’ve already been in a relationship. You see?”
I scratch my head and wonder if that just made perfect sense or if I’ve been around too many crazy-ass situations lately. “Yeah, okay, I think. Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Can I get you something to eat while I’m ‘breaking up with you’?” Connor laughs as he stands and heads toward the kitchen, and I realize our fake-up will also get “a source” off my back about Connor. Two birds, one stone.
“Some tea would be nice. I’d hate to get dumped and dehydrated at the same time,” I quip. “Actually, I’ll go to the kitchen with you. I need a post-break-up snack as well now.”
We gather cheese slices, crackers, and tea. Then we head to the den to sit by the fire. On the way, I really focus on the Restoration Hardware furniture filling the den. The pieces all ooze expensive simplicity and charm, but I wonder if I would ever be comfortable spending twenty thousand dollars on living room furniture.
A silver-covered book lies on the coffee table behind me, and I pick it up as Connor stokes the fire. “This is pretty. Is it a photo album?” I flip it open for a quick peek.
He looks down at the white rug and answers, “No, it’s the guest book for Allegra’s funeral.”
I place the book down quickly, now noticing there’s an urn that matches it on one of the bookshelves. “Oh, Connor. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no, no. I was looking through it earlier. That day was such a blur. I don’t remember seeing half of those people who signed it or what I even said to them. I really would like to have spoken with Fran and Sarah. I didn’t even know they made the long trip down here till I was looking it over just a few hours ago.”
“And who are they?” I ask around a mouthful of cheese.
“Fran was Allegra’s literary agent, and Sarah was her editor. They both came down from New York, which would’ve meant a lot to Allegra, especially after she had to let Fran go a few weeks before she died.”
“Had to let her go?” I perk up at the sound of a new motive. This could be something everyone has overlooked. “That’s kind of a big deal, right?”
“Well, yeah. It was such a shame. They worked together from the very beginning without a hiccup, but Allegra had these two new manuscripts, and Fran just wasn’t willing to sell one of them. They couldn’t agree on the big ending, and Allegra wouldn’t budge. She said it was the only way the story made sense. Fran refused to represent it if Allegra didn’t make her suggested changes. So Allegra let her go.”
I swallow my bite with a loud gulp, wondering whether Fran could’ve been angry enough to hurt Allegra. “And how did Fran take it?”
“She was hurt. Devastated, really. She and Sarah were particularly close friends with Allegra, and they’d had a tight bond for years. I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no. Fran’s not a killer. Never in a million years. Plus, she was all the way in New York when Allegra died.”
“Well, it’s definitely interesting if nothing else.” I grab a cracker.
“And why is that?” Connor leans forward and takes a sip of tea.
“Because authors tend to get a surge in readers when they pass away, and as her agent for all of those years, Fran will get a hefty payout from her backlist. A lot heftier than if Allegra were still alive and had moved on to new works with another agent.”
Connor seems to think on that then takes another sip of tea and changes the subject. “You know what? I wish we weren’t fake breaking up. I really enjoy our brainstorming and time together.” He frowns.
“We still have the investigation to do. So there’ll be legitimate reasons for us to be around each other, even if we don’t hang out in formalwear as friends anymore.”
“True, and it can be a short ‘friend break-up,’” Connor explains.
“When Ivy told you what I’d done, what did you say to her?”
“I acted like I was cut to the bone. She totally bought it, too, and said it was for the best. She thinks it’s too soon for me to be seen with another woman around town, even if we are just friends.”
My blood boils as Ivy’s treachery slices me all over again. “I guess I’ll have to send Ivy a biting text or something to let her know she ruined our friendship.” I roll my eyes. “She was right about one thing. I’m the only person taking this case seriously. Wentworth is only interested in wrapping this case up with a nice, election-winning bow for his cousin. I’m not certain and don’t have proof, but it seems like he paid the ex-girlfriend of Claude Van Morrison, who lives over off Marigold, to say he killed Allegra. In return, she got her drug charges dropped.”
“God, I don’t even want to know how you found that out, but do me a favor. Don’t go running around in a dangerous part of town like that by yourself again. I’d be happy to go with you.”
I wrinkle my face as I picture Ivy. “I guess what you consider ‘dangerous’ is all relative. For all I know, it may be just as dangerous to engage with Ivy Richards. I really don’t want anything to do with her right now, even if it’s only a text.”
“I know you don’t, but she does need to think I’m upset with you so she’ll cool off for a bit. Otherwise, she’ll keep coming after us.”
“Yeah, I guess. This whole thing is just so strange, isn’t it?”
“What part exactly?” He lifts his head and looks at me like he thinks I might be talking about more than just Ivy’s behavior.
“I know you and Allegra have basically been separated for the past few years, but to Ivy, this is a quick jump into another relationship.” I hope he won’t take offense.
“Yeah, but she’s wrong,” he says.
I feel my face flush. “I know. I just meant, in her head, it... well, you know. We’d never, um... You’d probably go for someone older, anyway, and not someone like me, when you’re ready to move on.” I stumble all over myself and can’t figure out what I’m trying to say.
“Are you saying I’d never be interested in someone like you... hypothetically?” Connor asks.
The crackling of the fire is suddenly as loud as thunder. “I mean, Allegra was so special, and you could have just about anyone you want, I imagine. You’re like the perfect guy.” Oh God. Why did I say that? Now he’s going to think I’m hitting on him or something.
“Perfect? That, I certainly am not. But I could definitely see myself going for someone like you. We’re so like-minded, and I feel so comfortable around you. Even if there is a big age difference. It’s almost like I’ve...” Connor rests his hand on top of mine and looks me straight in the eyes. “Like I’ve known you forever, the way we talk and get along. Or that’s how it feels, at least.”
He reaches toward me and carefully tucks my hair behind my ear. We lock eyes as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Despite my better judgment, I lean in and part my lips. He meets me halfway, and we pause for a second before our lips gently touch, melting away all the sexual tension that’s been lingering between us. We breathe each other in and explore one another as our relationship takes a step in a new direction.
Connor stops and takes a breath, his hands still under my top. “Doesn’t it feel that way to you, too, Alleg—” He stops.
Neither of us seems to know what to say next. He’s clearly slipped and almost called me Allegra. The sheer awkwardness of the situation is beyond words. I stand up from the rug, readjust my sweater, and begin picking up the mess we made. “It’s getting late. I should probably go.”
After I’ve gathered my things, I kneel down to him as he sits on the rug with his back to me, likely embarrassed. “I’m not so sure that this isn’t too soon for you. Maybe we really do need to take a step back with our friendship or whatever this is, just until you figure out how you really feel about her and about me,” I whisper, hoping it’ll ease the sharp sting of truth.
His voice breaks. “I know how I feel. It was just a slip. It doesn’t mean I’m not ready.”
He looks up at me with droopy eyes, and I see fear. It’s fear that he’s lost something else before it even really began, something else he can’t bear to lose. So I sit on the rug, pull him close to my chest, and hold him tight.
“I’m not going anywhere, Connor. I’m right here.”