Chapter 7
Libby couldn’t believe she was out this late. Usually by nine o’clock on Sunday night she was home folding laundry as she watched TV. Instead she was sitting in the front seat of Orion’s car watching the lights flicker on the Palisades and smelling the sweet scent of honeysuckle floating in the air.
“You know, my father offered to beat you up,” she told him.
“And what did you tell him?”
“I’d think about it.”
“That was nice of you.” Orion draped his arm over the back of his seat and turned towards Libby. “I guess he doesn’t like me very much.”
“Would you if you were in his place?”
“No,” Orion conceded. “I wouldn’t like me at all.”
They were silent for a few minutes; then Libby said, “This place hasn’t changed much since we used to come here.”
Orion sighed.
“I wish there was a do-over button for your life.”
Libby leaned back in her seat. Orion’s Infinity was new and still had that fresh-leather smell.
“I thought . . .” Orion began.
“That Sukie was glamorous and I was this chubby hometown girl . . .”
“Something like that,” Orion admitted.
Libby kept her eyes straight ahead.
“She’s really been hell to live with,” Orion said.
“And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“That I made a mistake.”
Libby decided not to dignify that comment with a response as she watched the lights of a plane going overhead.
“What are you planning to do now?” she said instead.
“I make glass beads.”
Libby turned to stare at him.
“Since when have you turned into a crafts person?”
“Since my therapist suggested I find a hobby. I’ve been making the beads and selling them on the Internet for six months now. See.” And Orion dug into his pocket and came out with two glass beads. “Here.” He turned on the interior car lights and handed them to Libby.
She weighed them in her palm. “Pretty colors,” she said.
Orion nodded.
“They’re a lot harder to do than they look.”
“What do people do with them?”
“They make bracelets with them or use them for decorative purposes. I’m beginning to sell to interior designers. And I have a design for a plate I’m working on. Here.” Orion folded his hand around hers, enclosing the beads in the palm of her hand. “Take them. Consider them a small sign of how bad I feel.”
Libby smiled at him.
“Okay.”
“Good.”
Orion looked at his watch and clicked off the car lights.
“And now I’d better get you home before your father does make good on his promise.”
“It feels weird both of us living with our parents again,” Libby observed as Orion put the car in gear and backed onto the road.
“Tell me about it. But if you want to talk about weird, let’s talk about Saturday.”
Libby groaned. “Clyde Schiller was at our house. Evidently someone put cyanide in Lionel’s drinking water.”
“So I heard. That wasn’t very sporting, was it?”
“Definitely not.” Libby shot him a quick glance. “You don’t seem exactly broken up about his death.”
Orion made a right on Ash.
“I’m not and I’ll wager no one else is either. Not if they’re honest.”
“Except for Tiffany,” Libby said.
“That’s still going on?” Orion asked.
“Was,” Libby corrected. “Was going on.”