The Great Escape

Chapter Eleven

LUCY WAS FURIOUS. SHE SLAMMED the door behind her, dropped her backpack, and stomped down the front hallway, passing the empty wall space where the baker’s rack should never have been in the first place.

Panda was in the sunroom, his back to the windows, his eyes on her. She hardly recognized him. His wild mane had been cut and tamed into something respectable, although she suspected that wouldn’t last for long. He was clean-shaven, or as clean-shaven as he’d ever get, and he wore a neatly pressed gray dress shirt with equally neat dark gray pants, both a far cry from the cheap suit he’d worn to her wedding. It was disconcerting seeing him dressed like a reputable businessman, but she wasn’t fooled. Beneath all that good grooming was a renegade biker who’d taken advantage of her, then called her a bad lover.

His gaze went to the fire-breathing dragon crawling up her neck, then to her fake pierced eyebrow, and two things were immediately clear. He was no happier to see her than she was to see him. And he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood next to him, her back to Lucy, her attention fixed on the view of the cove through the sparkling windows. Lucy gave Panda her iciest glare. “Patrick.”

He knew exactly how much she loathed seeing him, and his aloofness equaled her own, which made her even angrier. He had no right to act as though he’d been the injured party.

You weren’t that good anyway.

“I told you not to make any changes.” His displeasure couldn’t have been more obvious, but she didn’t care.

“Sorry, but I had orders from the health department.” She pulled off her ball cap, revealing her freshly colored purple dreads. The clutter in the bookcases was gone, the shelves neatly arranged, and the grimy sisal rug that should have been thrown out years ago was nowhere to be seen. She’d edited the mishmash of shabby furniture down to a chest, a few tables, and the sofa and chairs she and Toby had dragged in from the living room. Even without new paint, the space was homey and inviting.

The woman, her spine ramrod stiff, still hadn’t turned from the window. She wore an oversize black tunic top, black slacks, and stilettos. Her straight dark hair hung to her shoulders, and her ring-less hands looked too large for her wrists.

“Panda has assured me that I can count on you for discretion.” She spoke in a low-pitched, slightly husky voice, but something about her authoritarian tone suggested she preferred full volume.

“No problem,” Lucy said. “I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave.” The woman’s large hands fisted at her sides, but she still didn’t turn.

Lucy gave Panda a poisonous look. “If Panda tries something, you can always call the police.”

“There has to be another female here,” the woman said in her eerily quiet drill sergeant’s voice. “I understand you’ve been through a lot lately, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

So Panda had told her who Lucy was. Another indication that he had no moral compass.

“Normally, I’d offer to pay you,” she said, “but… that seems a little insulting.”

A little? The woman didn’t appear overawed at being with a member of the former first family, which suggested she was accustomed to celebrities. Lucy’s curiosity got the best of her. “Why is it so important?”

The woman’s head came up another inch. “Before I explain, I don’t suppose you’d consider signing a confidentiality agreement?”

She had to be kidding.

“Lucy has a lot of faults”-Panda leaned on that last word-“but she has too much at stake herself to go around blowing anyone else’s cover.”

“So you said.” The woman straightened her shoulders. “I suppose I’ll have to trust you, not something I’m good at.” A gull swooped by the window. And then she turned. Slowly… Dramatically… A tragic queen facing the guillotine.

Enormous black sunglasses concealed much of her face. She was tall and statuesque, a little overweight underneath that voluminous tunic top. She wore no jewelry, nothing to call attention to herself except the inappropriateness of all that black on a warm June day. Her hand shook ever so slightly as she took off her sunglasses. She folded in the stems, then raised her chin and gazed at Lucy.

She was attractive-dark, almond-shaped eyes; good cheekbones; a strong nose-but her full mouth could have used a slick of lip gloss, and a little makeup would have done wonders for her sallow complexion. Not that Lucy was one to criticize anyone else’s makeup application, since she was wearing brown lipstick and had thick kohl smudges both above and below her lashes.

The dramatic way the woman stood before her indicated she expected Lucy to say something, but since Lucy had no idea-

And then she understood. Whoa.

“Lucy, I’m sure you’ve heard of Temple Renshaw,” Panda said, all business.

Temple Renshaw, the Evil Queen of the celebrity fitness gurus and star of Fat Island, a horrible reality show that shamed its participants by exiling them to a place “where no one has to look at you.” She’d built her career on humiliation and degradation, and photographs of her panther-sleek body were everywhere-on the labels of her fitness drinks, her power bars, her extensive line of exercise wear. But those photographs only remotely resembled this woman draped in black-a woman with full cheeks and a plump little cushion of fat under her chin.

“As you can see,” Temple said, “I’m obese.”

Lucy swallowed. “I’d hardly say you were obese.” Temple still looked better than most of the tourists who got off the ferry. But that didn’t mean she was the lithe willow the public knew so well.

“No need to be polite,” Temple said.

Panda spoke up. “Temple had some personal difficulties over the spring that caused her to gain a little-”

“Don’t make excuses.” Her drill sergeant’s voice became a full-volume snarl. “I’m a fat slob.”

Lucy looked at him. “Where do you fit into this?” She paused. “And are you armed?”

“Temple hired me to help her get back in shape,” he said. “And none of your business.”

“You’re her trainer?”

“Not exactly.”

“I don’t need a trainer,” Temple snapped. “I need a disciplinarian.”

“Disciplinarian?” A series of images involving whips and paddles flashed through her head. Panda’s lip curled in an unpleasant smile, as if he were reading her mind. Lucy gave him her back. “Exactly what does this… discipline involve?”

“Panda and I have that worked out,” Temple said. “Fat Island starts taping in September, exactly three months from now. Since I’m clearly out of control, I’ve hired Panda to give me the structure I need to get back in shape.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw Temple’s “disciplinarian” inspecting the neatly organized bookshelves. With his index finger, he flipped a copy of Lighthouses of Lake Michigan onto its side, disturbing the arrangement.

“And you’re doing it here?” Lucy said.

“I can hardly check into a spa looking like this. I need complete privacy.” And then, bitterly, “My own Fat Island, if you will.”

With a flick of his thumb and a flash of an expensive stainless steel watch, Panda knocked over Field Guide to North American Birds. Lucy still couldn’t get used to his GQ appearance. It felt so wrong.

“Panda has worked security for me in the past,” Temple said. “When I remembered he had this house, I insisted we come here. It was all very Mission: Impossible. I flew in on a private plane. He met me at the airfield and smuggled me here in the back of his car.”

“I understand why the two of you are here,” Lucy said, although she didn’t entirely, “but what makes you think I’d stay?”

“Because I need you for cover.”

“Cover?”

“I’ll require special food,” she said. “Panda doesn’t exactly look like a man who’d go into town to buy digestive teas and wheatgrass.”

Lucy didn’t see herself as a woman who’d buy those things either, but she was beginning to get the point, however ludicrous it might be.

Panda nudged a floor lamp out of place with his shoe, a stylish pair of immaculately polished tasseled loafers she’d like to stomp on with her boots.

“I’m going to be here for weeks,” Temple said. “What if I want a copy of Women’s Health or Vogue? How about moisturizer or hair products? Tampax, for god’s sake.”

Panda’s foot stalled on the ladder-back chair he’d been about to push away from the corner.

“You can order those things online,” Lucy pointed out.

“And I will, but some things I’ll need immediately. And how do we account for the difference between the amount of garbage one person generates and two people? I like to air dry my workout clothes. Women’s clothes. I want to be able to swim. If someone brings their boat into the cove and sees a woman in the water, I can’t let them suspect it’s anyone other than you. There are a hundred ways I can be exposed if there isn’t another female in the house, and if that happens, my career is over forever. Now do you understand?”

Lucy wondered why Temple hadn’t enlisted one of her friends. Then again, Temple didn’t exactly look like the kind of woman who’d have a bevy of BFFs.

She tucked the stem of her sunglasses into the neck of her tunic. “Lucy, I realize you’re an important person in your own right, and I understand this is a hard time for you. I also know you expected to stay here alone. My showing up is an intrusion, and I want to make that right, so…” Her critical gaze swept from Lucy’s dreads to her combat boots. “I’m going to train you for free.”

Lucy was too appalled to respond.

“I charge my private clients six hundred dollars an hour. I know that’s outrageous, but it does make people take their training seriously.” Temple’s brows came together as she gazed at Lucy’s upper arms-and not, Lucy suspected, to study her bloody thorn tattoo. From there, she assessed Lucy’s thighs as they emerged from her shorts-thighs that were only beginning to return to their normal size, thanks to the bread she’d been baking. “We’ll find another motivation for you.”

“Unfortunately, Lucy takes her sloth seriously,” Panda said, his lips thinning. “I doubt she’d be willing to work that hard.”

“I really wouldn’t,” Lucy said hastily. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t possibly help you.” Not with Panda here, she couldn’t.

“I see.” Temple fixed her confident public smile firmly in place, a smile Lucy recognized from having employed it so frequently herself. “I suppose I’d hoped…” She licked her lips. “If anybody sees me… Finds out why I’m here…” Her chin came up another inch. “Panda said you wouldn’t stay.”

Lucy didn’t like Panda predicting her behavior.

Temple’s chin came up another inch. “I really… shouldn’t have counted on it. I…”

And right then it all fell apart. The Evil Queen lost her public smile. Her head dropped, her shoulders sagged, her ramrod spine lost its steel, and tears glimmered in her eyes.

Witnessing an imperious woman’s pain over having her plans thwarted should have been somewhat satisfying. Instead, it was heartbreaking. Temple clearly wasn’t used to falling apart, and she had no practice asking for help. Whatever had caused her to lose control of her weight in the first place was still beating her down.

Lucy didn’t want to leave the island. It would mean leaving Viper behind, something she couldn’t bear thinking about yet. It also meant that this time next week, she’d be wearing pumps and knocking on Fortune 500 doors, her hand outstretched. Instead she wanted to kayak whenever she felt like it, and sit down to write in the office she’d cleaned, and spread fresh honey on her bread. She wanted to carry her morning coffee down to the dock and see how Bree was faring at the farm stand. And she’d miss that little rat Toby.

Unlike Temple, Panda was more than happy with Lucy’s decision. “Lucy tends to be a distraction,” he said to his employer. “It’ll be better this way.”

Better for him.

Lucy didn’t want to share her house with the Evil Queen of Fat Island. But more important, she didn’t want to share it with the Evil Bodyguard. Still, it was a big house, and Temple looked so defeated, an emotion Lucy understood better than she wanted to. “I’ll try it for a day or so,” she finally said. “But I won’t promise more than that.”

Panda had counted on her leaving, and he wasn’t pleased. “Obviously, you haven’t thought this through.”

“You’ll stay?” Temple was transformed. Her posture straightened. Her eyes shone. “I can’t thank you enough. And truly… Your body will thank me, too.”

Lucy sincerely doubted that, but she had a more important battle to wage. Staking out her turf. “The big dormitory upstairs will be perfect for your workouts once it’s cleaned up. I know you’ll want Panda nearby. The second floor has four bedrooms and two big bathrooms, so there’s plenty of room for both of you.” Lucy wasn’t giving up the downstairs bedroom, with its sliding doors that led directly outside so she could come and go without seeing either of them. If all went well, she’d only have to meet up with them in the kitchen, and she suspected Temple wouldn’t be spending a lot of time there.

She ignored Panda’s scowl as she offered to show Temple around. “The upstairs is bad, but nothing a couple of dump trucks and a fumigator can’t take care of.”

PANDA INSISTED ON ACCOMPANYING THEM, and as he spotted each change Lucy had made, his scowl grew darker. “Where’s the mirror that used to hang over there?”

“Mirror?”

“And the coatrack?”

“What coatrack?” She’d tossed them both in the garage with all the other junk that had accumulated here.

When they reached the upstairs, she found an ally in Temple. “Didn’t you say you’ve had this place for two years?” she asked as they inspected the dormitory. “Why haven’t you cleaned it up?”

“I like it the way it is,” he said tightly.

Temple gazed with distaste at the rows of mismatched bunk beds. Each had a bare mattress rolled up at the end. She wandered over to the longest wall, which held three large windows, all of them masked with discolored, vinyl-lined curtains. Temple pushed aside one dusty panel. “The view is incredible. You’re right, Lucy. This will be a great workout room.”

Lucy stated the obvious. “The caretaker passed away, so it’s been a while since anyone’s cleaned, but I’m sure Panda can find someone.”

“I can’t have anyone here,” Temple said firmly. She let the curtain fall back and rubbed her dusty fingers together. “Panda and I will do it. Taking care of myself will be a new experience.” And then, with a bitter edge, “I wonder if I still remember how.”

The old Lucy would have volunteered to help, but Viper had no intention of being Temple Renshaw’s personal assistant. She pointed out the linen closet with its piles of mismatched sheets and left them to fend for themselves.

Once she got downstairs, she put away the groceries from her backpack and told herself this just might work. As she cleaned up some dirty dishes, she heard Temple’s voice coming from the hallway. “Really, Panda, you don’t have to do that.” The entreaty in her voice aroused Lucy’s curiosity. She peeked out.

They stood by the front door, where Panda was riffling through Temple’s purse, a luxurious black satchel with heavy silver hardware. Temple fingered the neck of her tunic. “Honestly, Panda, there’s no need. I’m clear about what I came here to do.”

“Then you must have overlooked this.” He pulled out a bar of Toblerone chocolate.

Temple tilted her head and gave him a wide smile. “Congratulations. You passed your first test. This is exactly why I’m paying you a ridiculous amount of money to work for me this summer.”

He tore off the wrapper and bit a big chunk from the end. “Don’t bullshit me, Temple.”

Temple glued her eyes to the candy bar, her smile disappearing. Even from a distance, Lucy could feel her craving. He took another bite and slowly chewed, savoring every morsel, an act of such monumental cruelty he’d surely be damned forever. “Anything I find,” he said, “you’re going to watch me eat.”

Temple was furious. “I don’t have to put up with this!”

“Save your breath.” The last of the chocolate disappeared into his mouth. He wadded up the wrapper and shoved it in his pocket. “Open your suitcases.”

“There’s nothing inside that shouldn’t be there,” she declared.

“Let’s hope that’s true.”

It wasn’t. Panda found another large chocolate bar. Even for a big man, it was a lot of chocolate, but he consumed every bite. Temple was furious. “You don’t have to be such a prick.”

“You didn’t hire me for my warm personality. You knew this wasn’t going to be a picnic.”

“Fine.”

She started to whip past him, but he caught her arm. “Do I need to search you, too?”

She reached into the pocket of her slacks and sneered, “Tic Tacs. They’re perfectly harmless, and I’ve had enough of this.”

“It’ll only hurt for a minute.”

She gave a hiss of outrage as he began running his hands down her body. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Give it a rest.” He whipped a pack of Skittles from her other pocket, then grabbed the Tic Tacs for good measure. “Compassion’s for losers. Isn’t that what you always say on TV?”

“I’m not paying you seventy-five thousand dollars to lecture me!”

Seventy-five thousand dollars? Lucy couldn’t believe it. She wondered what her parents had paid, then thought of her thousand-dollar bribe and what a laugh-fest that must have given him.

“Not a lecture,” he said. “An observation.” Apparently his stomach had reached its limit because he shoved the Skittles in his own pocket along with the chocolate wrappers, then closed her suitcases. “I’ll carry these upstairs for you.”

“Don’t bother!” She grabbed them away and hauled them up the stairs.

“Seen enough?” Panda said, his back still turned to the door where Lucy lurked.

“Still trying to absorb it all,” she replied. “The two of you are a real riot.”

He briefly inspected the spot once occupied by the baker’s rack. “You can leave anytime you want. As a matter of fact, why haven’t you?”

Because this was her house. “Because I’m still punishing myself for my bad judgment in people.” She disappeared back into the kitchen.

It was only four o’clock, but she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she heated up a skillet, added some oil, and tossed in one of the pork chops she’d picked up in town. It would have tasted better on the grill, but she’d thrown that rusty mess out last week.

The pork chop had just begun to sizzle nicely when Panda, still dressed in his businessman’s attire, shot into the kitchen. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around the handle of the skillet, and stalked out the back door.

“Hey!” She raced after him as he strode across the yard. “Bring back my pork chop!”

He flipped open the lid of the garbage can next to the garage, flicked his wrist, and sent her pork chop tumbling to its death. “No cooking unless it’s something Temple can eat, too.”

“No cooking? What do you mean, no cooking!”

“The smell was going through the house. She’s supposedly doing a cleanse, and you’re not going to torture her.”

“Me! You gulped down a thousand calories in front of her!”

“Natural consequences. What you’re doing is different.”

She threw up her hands. “I don’t believe you!”

His mouth twisted. “Maybe you’d better call Mommy and have her send in the SEALs to protect you.”

Had she really kissed this man? Let him-let him-do that? Viper was beyond pissed, and she pointed a chipped charcoal fingernail right in his face. “You,” she said, “are going to pay.” And off she went.

HE WAS ALREADY PAYING. JUST being near her again was torture. He still remembered his first sight of her. The night of the rehearsal dinner. She’d been standing at Ted’s side in a ladylike blue-green dress, her shiny hair many shades lighter than it was now. All he could think about was how impeccably matched the two of them were, the perfect all-American couple. It wasn’t until almost two weeks later, the night at Caddo Lake when she’d finally called her family, that he’d realized she truly wasn’t going back to Ted. Stupid.

You weren’t that good anyway.

What a fricking lie. He was the one who’d been inept-rushed, clumsy, out of control. Lucy had been giving and natural, with none of that phony porn star posturing women seemed to believe they needed to bring to the bedroom.

He’d counted on her taking off as soon as she saw that he’d come back, but instead of jumping on the ferry the way she should have, she’d decided to cook pork chops in his kitchen. Now he had two problem women on his hands, both of whom wanted to use his house as their hideaway. One of them was a demanding pain in the ass, but he’d handled Temple before, and he could do it again. The other was a different kind of pain in the ass, and the way he most wanted to handle her was naked.

He pushed images of a naked Lucy from his mind so he could concentrate on the job at hand. This was the last place he wanted to be, but Temple was paying him a lot of money to babysit her, and she had refused to negotiate the location. He wished he hadn’t told her about the house, but he’d never imagined she’d insist on coming here, just as he never imagined her thirty pounds overweight and on the verge of ruining her career. He liked jobs that kept him on the move, jobs where there was at least the potential for a little excitement. This was a shit job, but it was also a highly lucrative one. Besides, Temple had been his first big client, and he owed her.

They’d met not long after he’d taken over the agency when her publisher had hired him for a routine security job at a Chicago bookstore where she was doing a signing. A twitchy-looking guy in the crowd had caught his attention. Panda had kept a close eye on him, and before the night was over, had stopped him from leaping over a row of chairs to carve up Temple’s face. From then on, whenever Temple needed security, she insisted he provide it. Thanks to her, he’d attracted other well-heeled clients, and his business had grown to the point where he’d been able to rent the Lake Shore Drive apartment he seldom slept in, buy this house, and put his mother in the best Alzheimer’s facility in Illinois.

His stomach rumbled, not from hunger but from trying to digest all that chocolate. He didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. Too bad Temple hadn’t been smuggling potato chips.

His thoughts drifted back to Lucy. He’d expressly told her not to change anything in the house, but she’d done what she’d wanted, and the changes unsettled him. Why had Lucy given in to Temple’s request? He couldn’t figure it out, but he did know that the sooner he could make her leave, the better, and the best way for him to accomplish that was to make sure she hadn’t forgotten his worst qualities.

If only the prospect of reminding her didn’t depress him so much.

THE EVIL QUEEN WASN’T A prima donna; Lucy would give her that. The next morning she worked side by side with Panda breaking down the bunk beds and carrying them outside. “Great cardio,” she told Lucy as she hauled a set of bedrails toward the front door.

Temple had pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and traded in yesterday’s black outfit for roomy navy workout pants and an oversize V-neck mesh knit top, neither of them stylish enough to have come from her own clothing line. “I’m getting the idea that you and Panda have some history,” she said.

Lucy moved ahead of her to hold the front door open. “Wrong idea.”

Temple wasn’t fazed by Lucy’s cool response. “As long as he does the job I hired him for”-she angled her cargo through the doorway-“I don’t care what the two of you do the rest of the time.”

Lucy wasn’t used to being addressed as anyone’s underling, but before she could fire back, the Evil Queen and her load of bedrails had disappeared down the front steps.

Lucy had discovered a padlock on the pantry door when she’d gone into the kitchen for breakfast, and since she hadn’t been up to doing battle with Panda on an empty stomach, she’d settled for coffee. But now she was hungry. She located a carton of black cherry yogurt and a cold hot dog. Before she could finish either one, she heard a truck pulling into the drive, followed almost immediately by the sound of a door slamming upstairs, presumably Temple hiding from sight. Soon Panda and the driver were unloading what proved to be gym equipment.

Lucy had planned to bake bread for Bree and Toby, but after last night’s pork chop incident, she couldn’t see that happening, and she rode to the farm stand empty-handed.

Bree stood on a ladder, painting a colorful ribbon garland across the top of the farm stand’s pale yellow frame, the kind of whimsical decoration that might be seen on a carousel. The colors coordinated with the old-fashioned moss-green quilt she’d tossed over the counter to showcase a row of three-bottle honey pyramids.

Toby popped out from behind the stand as Lucy got off her bike. “I saw Panda’s car go by yesterday. You got a job for me?”

Toby was a complication she hadn’t thought through. “Not for a while. One of my… girlfriends is visiting. We’re going to be hanging out, so it’ll be boring.” The idea of the Evil Queen as a girlfriend made her shudder, but she needed to lay some groundwork in case Toby showed up unexpectedly at the house, which he would almost certainly do.

“But I can still come over and do stuff, right?”

“Toby, please stop harassing her.” Bree gave Lucy a tired smile as she got down off the ladder, leaving her tray of paint pots balanced on top. Although the morning was warming up, Bree didn’t have any body fat, and she wore a lightweight gray sweater over her T-shirt. Neither the tan she was acquiring nor the fresh sprinkle of freckles across her cheekbones concealed her exhaustion. “I’ll do my best to keep him from bothering you.”

Considering Bree’s general ineffectiveness with Toby, Lucy wasn’t counting on it, and she slipped an arm around his shoulder. “The thing is, Toby, my friend isn’t exactly a kid person, so instead of coming over, maybe you could start showing me around the island. I know there are a lot of places I haven’t seen yet.”

“I guess.”

Lucy took in the Carousel Honey sign and freshly painted border. “I love what you’re doing. Is the sign working?”

“I’ve sold seven jars this morning.” She scratched a bee sting on her wrist, leaving a spot of raspberry paint behind. “I’m thinking about adding more products, maybe soap or beeswax candles. Whatever I can figure out how to make.”

“It’s still not going to be enough money,” Toby said, with his customary belligerence. “You should leave.”

Lucy quickly intervened. “The two of you have brought the farm stand back to life in just a couple of days. You should be proud of yourselves.”

“It’s Gram who should be proud,” Toby said. “It’s her honey.” He stomped off toward the house. “I’m calling Big Mike!” he shouted. “He said he’d take me out on his boat.”

“No!” Bree dashed to the driveway. “Toby, do not call Mike! Do you understand me? Toby!”

Toby had already disappeared.

With an air of weary resignation, Bree tucked away a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She pulled a cigarette pack from a shelf behind the counter. “I’m no good at this.”

“He’s hurting,” Lucy said. “That makes him a tough challenge.”

“We’re both hurting.” She waved away the smoke, as if what hung in the air posed a bigger danger than what she was sucking into her lungs. “Sorry. Having a little pity party here.” She studied Lucy more closely. “You look so familiar. I feel like I know you from somewhere, but I’m sure we’ve never met. When I first saw you, I thought you were a kid.”

“I’m thirty-one.”

Her gaze drifted to Lucy’s hair, the new eyebrow ring, and the dragon tattoo on her neck.

“A case of arrested development,” Lucy said by way of explanation.

“I see.”

But Bree clearly didn’t see, and Lucy no longer felt right about keeping her identity hidden. She decided to take a risk. “I’m… sort of in disguise.” She hesitated. “I’m… Lucy Jorik.”

Bree’s eyes widened, her posture straightened, and she dropped her cigarette. She might be able to smoke in front of that odd girl who lived on the other side of the woods, but she couldn’t do it in front of the president’s daughter. “Oh… I…”

“I needed to hide out for a while,” Lucy said with a shrug. “This seemed like a good place.”

Bree realized she was staring. “Sorry. It’s just… a little unexpected.” She pushed at her hair again, trying to straighten it. “Why did you tell me? I’d never have guessed.”

“It doesn’t seem right to keep coming over here and not say anything. Hard to believe, but I have this thing about honesty.”

“But… You barely know me. I could tell everybody.”

“I’m hoping you won’t.” She wanted to change the subject. “That pity party you mentioned. Would you like to fill me in?”

A car slowed but didn’t stop. Bree gazed after it. “It’s a boring story.”

“I hate to admit this, but some days hearing about other people’s problems actually cheers me up.”

Bree laughed, the tension broken. “I know the feeling.” She wiped her hands on her shorts. “You really want to hear this?”

“Does that make me a bad person?”

“Don’t say you weren’t warned.” She rubbed absentmindedly at a paint flake on her arm. “Last November I came home from a luncheon at our country club and found my husband packing up his car. He said he was tired of our privileged life, he wanted a divorce, and oh, by the way, he was going to start over with his soul mate, a nineteen-year-old office temp who was twice the woman I was.”

“Ouch.”

“It gets worse.” The speckled sunlight coming through the trees cast her face in light and shadow, making her look both older and younger than she was. “He said he realized he owed me something for ten years of marriage, so I could have whatever was left after the debts I didn’t know anything about were paid off.”

“Nice guy.”

“Not even when I met him. I knew that, but he was gorgeous and smart, and all my sorority sisters were crazy about him. Our families had been friends for years. He was one of GM’s wonder boys before Detroit imploded.” She flicked her ash into the grass. “Scott and his temp headed off to Seattle to find their bliss, and the debts ate up everything we had. I’d only finished a year of college. I had no work experience and no idea how to support myself. For a while, I lived with one of my brothers, but after a few months of barely leaving my room, my sister-in-law let me know I’d worn out my welcome.”

She forgot her discomfort about smoking in front of the first daughter and reached for another cigarette. “Around the same time, Myra’s lawyer contacted me and told me she’d died and left her cottage to me along with her grandson. I’d only seen Toby a few times years ago when Myra came to visit me. Yet here I am. Mistress of my domain.” She looked around at the farm stand and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Have you ever heard anything more pathetic? I was raised with all the advantages except a backbone.” She pushed the cigarette back in its pack without lighting up. “I can imagine what you’re thinking after everything you’ve accomplished in your life.”

“Running away on my wedding day?”

“Especially that.” She grew almost dreamy-eyed. “How did you have the guts?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it guts.”

“I would.” Just then a car stopped. Bree tucked the cigarette pack in her pocket. “Thanks for trusting me. I won’t sell you out.”

Lucy hoped she’d keep her word.

ON THE WAY HOME, LUCY realized she’d forgotten her honey, but without the prospect of warm bread to slather it on, she didn’t turn around. A pile of broken-down bunk beds, old mattresses, and the ugly vinyl curtains from the dorm sat at the end of the drive, waiting to be hauled away. The delivery truck was gone, and as she entered the house she heard something heavy being dragged across the floor overhead. Too much to hope it was Panda’s dead body.

She cut through the kitchen to go outside and noticed that the old refrigerator was gone. In its place stood a high-tech stainless steel side-by-side. Her unsatisfactory breakfast had left her hungry, so she opened the doors.

And discovered all her stuff was gone. Her peanut butter and jelly, her deli ham and perfectly aged Swiss cheese. No black cherry yogurt, salad dressing, or sweet pickles. None of the leftovers she’d counted on for lunch. Even Panda’s marmalade had disappeared.

The freezer section was equally awful. Instead of Hot Pockets and the frozen waffles that were her weekend treat, she saw rows of prepackaged diet meals. She pulled open the vegetable bins. Where were her carrots? Her blueberries? The fresh bunch of romaine lettuce she’d bought just yesterday? Frozen waffles were one thing, but they’d taken her lettuce?

She stormed upstairs.