On the porch of the Duncan Arms, people were sitting at tables drinking cocktails, reading books, and looking at their cell phones in the soft light that settles just before seven o’clock. I walked to the front steps in the emerald-green dress, wearing the makeup I’d bought after David and I dropped the hand off at the gallery—everything from the Starry Night eye-shadow palette to the Rose Dream blush to the Pink Impulse lipstick. I’d called the Tree House and preordered dinner, including the seafood paella, one of Carter’s favorites. Everything was set.
Halfway up the steps, I heard my name, and when I turned, I saw David sitting alone at one of the tables. He was supposed to be in Manhattan until Friday. This was Tuesday.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he said when I walked over. “You look so different.”
“Oh. Right.” I frowned and touched the back of my head, still shocked to feel how little hair was left. “A mistake.”
“No, I mean you look different good,” he added, standing and eyeing my dress.
“Really? Well, thanks.”
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” he said.
I remembered then that he’d called me a couple of times earlier, when I was dealing with the shock of discovering our mug shots were all over town. “I’m sorry. I should have called you back. Things have been a little, uh, busy.” He pulled out a chair. I looked at my watch. It was six fifty-five. I had only a minute or two, but I sat down. “I thought you were going to be in New York until Friday. Did you just get back here?” I hoped he’d say yes. I hoped he hadn’t been downtown. If I could just explain, warn him before he saw the posters…
But it was too late. He pulled something from his briefcase. Today’s Hampstead Review and Eastville Chronicle, our mug shots on the front pages of both papers. I shifted in my chair. He’d seen them. Of course he had. What fairy godmother did I expect would rescue me from that? “I guess you saw the posters as well?”
“The posters, the newspapers, the internet.”
A muscle in my neck tightened. “I’m sorry, David. I really am incredibly sorry. I wish I’d never insisted that we break—I mean go into Jeanette’s house. Then none of this would have happened—the mug shots, the newspapers, the posters.”
“The internet,” he reminded me.
I could never utter enough sorrys for the screwups I’d caused. “I didn’t mean to complicate your life, but it seems like that’s all I’ve done. You’re a good person and I feel terrible that I’ve dragged you through the mud.” I hoped he believed me. I did feel awful about it. And he was a nice guy. There was something charming about him. The way he was going to propose to Ana. So sweet. How he looked when he stood up at the Gwythyrs’ and said ¡Viva la revolución! So funny. That he wanted to save the textile mill. So wise.
“I was pretty mad,” he said. “Those pictures. The article. I couldn’t believe it. All I could think was Here’s my professional reputation ruined.”
I hadn’t even thought about that. The idea that I might have damaged his career, his business, made me cringe. What an idiot I was. I wanted to turn back the clock to before I’d made that ridiculous decision to go into Jeanette’s house. Or farther back, to before I’d crushed Alex Lingon’s hand with the car. Then none of this would have happened. Although maybe that was going back too far, because if I hadn’t crushed the hand, I never would have met David. And I wasn’t sorry about that.
“Anyway, I thought this was going to be the end of everything,” he said. “I figured people would think I was some petty criminal or that I’d end up a joke. Either way, it wouldn’t be good. And then something odd happened.” He leaned back in his chair. “Ever since this morning when the papers and the posters came out, people have been stopping me on the street, asking for selfies, telling me how they love the story and how they’re following it to see what the Baked-Goods Bandits are going to do next. The old guy who owns the dry cleaner’s gave me a twenty-five-dollar gift certificate.”
“Mr. Penny? The one with the striped suspenders?”
“Yeah, he’s a riot. And a lady who has a clothing store told me she’d be happy to bail me out if I ever got arrested again. Gave me her card.” He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to me. GIFFORD’S SMALL AND TALL. “By the way, why don’t they carry any regular sizes?”
I handed the card back. “Patty Gifford. Her son’s five foot three and her husband’s six six. You should watch out for her, though. I heard she’s looking for another husband. The first four didn’t work out.”
He dropped the card like it was a burning ember. “I’m not tall enough anyway. Look, what I’m trying to say is that the whole thing began to be kind of, sort of, well…fun.”
Fun. He thought it was fun. People stopping him, talking about his mug shot, asking for selfies. “Really?” He couldn’t be serious.
“Yeah. Really. And it might even help my business. The reason I didn’t go back to Manhattan on Monday is that I was able to schedule a meeting with some people on the textile-mill property, so I ended up staying. I’ve got another meeting tomorrow.”
“You’re making progress. That’s great.”
“Well, here’s the thing. This afternoon a guy called from the state community development agency, and they’re interested in getting a proposal on the project. He said my celebrity status might even make it move through the works a little faster. Of course, that’s not official. And who knows what will happen. These things take forever. There’ll be a million meetings, documents to submit. Governments move slowly. But I think it’s a good sign.”
As he spoke, something warmed inside me. I couldn’t help feeling I’d played a little part in the mill project, given that I was at the site with David when he first saw the property. More than anything, though, I felt proud of him. “I hope it works out. I hope you’ll be able to buy the mill and fix it up. I’d love to see it when it’s done.”
“I’d love to have you see it.” On the lawn, birds hopped in the grass, and a mourning dove sent a plaintive coo into the air. “So tell me, why are you all dressed up? Is there something special going on tonight? Something to do with the wedding?”
Yes, it had to do with the wedding, but not in the way he might have been thinking. “The wedding’s off. They’re canceling it.”
“They’re canceling it?” He looked stunned.
I told him about the photos and all the negative publicity. “My sister’s very concerned about having a man she can depend on a hundred and twenty percent. And those photos have really shaken her.”
“I can understand that,” David said.
“I can too. But this situation has given me a chance. To get Carter back. I’m about to have dinner with him. That’s why I’m here.” I looked at my watch. It was a couple of minutes after seven. “And the really good thing is I don’t even need to use the sabotage plan.”
He gave me a quizzical look. “What sabotage plan?”
I remembered I’d never told him about that. “I had this plan worked out to…well, I was going to do a few little things to mess up my sister’s wedding. I re-pinned her gown to make it too small. I changed some of the music for the wedding and reception. I revised the menu and the seating arrangement…” As I rattled off the parts of my sabotage plan, I began to feel a little uncomfortable about having done them.
I waited for David to speak. Four men at a table behind us talked about a golf bet, and farther down the porch, a group sang “Happy Birthday.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” he finally said. “Things with Carter didn’t work the first time. What convinced you it would work a second time? And don’t you think you might be catching him at a vulnerable point in his life? He tells you his marriage to your sister is off, and you’re going in for the kill.”
“I’m not going in for the kill,” I said, feeling uneasy, wishing he hadn’t used those words. “I just thought we could make it work if Carter was available again and we both knew the pitfalls from before and—”
“What about your sister? Didn’t you give any thought to how she would have felt if you’d ruined her wedding? And do you think she’ll be happy about you running off with her fiancé?”
Why was he lecturing me? It wasn’t any of his business. “Hold on,” I said, hearing my voice rise, sensing people were looking at us. “For one thing, he’s her ex-fiancé. And for another, this whole thing started when she took him from me, remember? Carter and I were very…we were happy…until Mariel got involved.”
David shook his head and gave me a look that told me he wasn’t buying it. “Oh, come on, Sara. You’re a smart girl. You really believe that? How happy could the two of you have been if he went off with your sister? I didn’t hear you say she tied him up and kidnapped him, which means he went willingly. And that means something wasn’t working between the two of you. He needed something that you couldn’t give him and she could. Maybe you should admit that and move on. Or are you so competitive with her that you can’t stand to lose no matter what damage you cause?”
I got up. It was after seven, I was late, and I didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say. He could think whatever he wanted to. I didn’t care. “What you said about me being competitive is ridiculous.”
“Oh, is it? You really think so? I wonder. Maybe it’s time for you and your sister to start acting your ages. At least you ought to. You’re the older one.” His forehead was full of furrows. “You ought to be glad you have a sister. Be a grown-up for a change. Maybe if you act like one, she will too.”
Be a grown-up. He thought I wasn’t being a grown-up. What right did he have to say that? What right did he have to say anything? “I thought we were friends.” I blinked back tears. “But I can see I was wrong.”
He called out to me just before I walked inside. “Real friends can be honest with each other.”
I kept going.