by Sophie Gunn
“What about the girl whose mother died? The girl’s in this town,” Georgia said. “Wasn’t that why he came here? To tell her that he’s sorry? And she wouldn’t accept his apology. Wasn’t that what you told us?”
“So?” Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest. Sometimes, she still didn’t like Georgia very much. Usually, she just had to imagine her on fire, and she’d forgive her. But she wanted desperately to ignore the nagging fact that Georgia was right: Tay had come here for a reason, and it wasn’t pleasant and it wasn’t worked out.
“So, I’m just saying that you need to be careful. I don’t want you to rush into this just to have a man standing by when Ethan comes.”
“You think I’m using him?”
“I think maybe you’re ignoring some very important facts because you don’t want to be alone when Ethan gets here,” Georgia said. “You told us yourself that you wanted to fix the house and have a man so that Paige could have her dreams come true. It’s all fallen together—maybe too perfectly?”
“I love him,” Lizzie said. She startled herself with the words. But there they were, spoken before the Enemy Club under the glaring fluorescent bulbs. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth…
“Oh, hooray!” Nina clapped her hands.
“And he loves me,” Liz said.
“He told you that?” Jill asked.
“Yes.”
General mayhem ensued. Even Mr. Zinelli raised his coffee cup to her.
“We need to meet this guy,” Jill said. “You need our approval. When can we meet him properly?”
“I do not need your approval,” Lizzie said. Because I love him. I love Tay Giovanni. I am in love and loved in return. She poured herself a glass of ice water and drank the entire thing in one long gulp. She wanted to dump it over her head, just to be sure she was awake.
Georgia pursed her lips and didn’t say anything.
She was the first one to leave.
Jill and Nina left the diner together.
“Get back in there,” Nina whispered. “Now is the perfect time to tell her. She’s in love. She won’t care.”
“I know,” Jill said. “I will. Soon. Not now.”
“Why is this so hard?” Nina asked. “We’ve all made mistakes and we’ve all forgiven each other.”
“I know. But this—” Jill tightened her ponytail. They’d reached her car and she clicked the lock open. “Do you think this Tay thing is for real?”
“I sure hope so,” Nina said. “Lizzie deserves it.”
“You want a ride?” Jill offered, looking around for Nina’s car.
“Nah. I parked in the church lot. I’m going to walk over and light a candle for Walt.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Good. I guess. Haven’t heard from him in a while.”
“His tour’s done in August, right?” Jill asked.
“Yeah. You need to find me a place before he comes back. I’m going to have to move out of his house.”
“C’mon, he’s your brother. He might want you to stay.”
“Nah. It’s his place. When he comes back, he’ll need his space. I imagine two years in Afghanistan makes a person need their space.”
“Well, don’t be so sure. He might want his sis nearby.”
Nina shrugged. “I hope everything works out for Liz.”
“Yeah, me, too. Especially because then, I won’t ever have to hear about Ethan Pond ever again.”
“Tell her,” Nina said.
“I will.” Jill slipped into her car. “I promise.”
CHAPTER
36
Tay spent the next few weeks painting and stripping the porch. He’d changed his schedule so that he’d be there at dinnertime. Lizzie would invite him in, and he’d sometimes say yes and sometimes say no, depending on what he could sense of their moods.
After a while, she stopped having to ask and he stopped having to refuse. Paige would lean out on the porch and say, “Dinner.”
The three of them—plus White and Dune, who almost always came with him—would eat.
After a while, Paige started to offer to help him. They’d work together until Lizzie came home, and then they’d keep on working until she called them in. At dinner, they’d talk about the projects that Lizzie and Paige were doing on their own—well, on their own with Paige’s friends’ help. He offered advice, but stayed out of their landscaping of the front yard, their work around the path. They had their project and he and Paige had their project.
And he and Lizzie had their stolen moments, when Paige was at school, and that was the best part of all.
Tay was careful to leave right after dinner, so Paige could do her homework and Lizzie could have time to bully the poor girl with offers of board games and other unwanted attention. Sometimes he’d leave Dune and White, if Paige begged for the animals to stay. They didn’t seem to mind, and it felt like a simple, meaningful gift to give the girl.
When he and Paige finally finished the porch—in the nick of time, as the nights were starting to freeze and the days weren’t much better—Tay suggested a trek downtown for dinner to celebrate, his treat.
They went to the Italian joint and feasted.
By the time Paige finished her dessert, an ice-cream banana-split sundae with extra chocolate sprinkles, Tay felt as if everything in his life might be okay. He and Lizzie were getting along better than ever. The sex, naturally, was amazing. But more amazing, he had come to peace with the accident. With the fact that he’d never get the money back. That Candy would maybe one day forgive him, but until then, there was nothing he could do.
Tay watched Paige finish her sundae. “Remarkable,” he said. “I never knew a girl who could eat so much.”
“You think this is something, you should see her sleep,” Lizzie said. “Eating and sleeping are the varsity sports of teenagers. I have no idea how they have time for anything else.”
Paige stuck her tongue out at Lizzie. “She’s just jealous because anything she eats makes her fat.”
“You’re not fat,” Tay assured Lizzie.
“Oh, yuck,” Paige said. “Please don’t start the mushy stuff. I’m still eating.” She was cleaning the bowl with her finger. “Talk about something else.”
“That’s disgusting,” Lizzie pointed out.
“Whatever. New topic,” Paige said.
“What do you want to talk about, Paige?” Lizzie asked.
“How about this? Tay, are your intentions toward my mother honorable?”
“Paige!” Lizzie cried.
“No, it’s okay,” Tay said. “Are you asking if I’m going to marry her? Because the truth is, I’m not sure she’d want me. I’m not much of a catch. I used to be. But not anymore. I think your mother can do better.”
“You were okay before you, you know, had that accident?” Paige asked, completely serious the way only an oblivious teenager could be.
“Paige Carpenter!” Lizzie could feel her face go hot. “How do you know about the accident?”
Paige traced the long history of her sources.
“So you know why I came to Galton?”
“’Cause that girl is here, the one whose mother—you know.”
“What else do you know?” Tay asked.
Lizzie knew he wanted to know if anyone had heard anything about the money. So far, they’d been able to keep that part under wraps.
“Nothing else,” Paige said. “Just that you came to try to help her but she won’t speak to you. I think she’s mean.”
“You didn’t hear any more details?” Tay pushed. “Like about how I was going to help her?”
“I heard that you kept trying to tell her you were sorry, but you weirded her out and she threatened to call the cops on you.”
Tay’s and Lizzie’s eyes met across the table. So the secret of the money was still between Candy, Tay, and Lizzie. He wondered how long it would take to come out. Maybe it wouldn’t.
“It’s a little weird,
” Paige said. “You have to admit. Everyone thinks so. But then Jimmy said that in parts of Africa, there’s a justice system where if you steal from someone, you, like, have to work on their farm until you pay them back. So it’s personal. Not like here, where we don’t do that kind of thing and you stay away from the victim.”
Lizzie visibly flinched at the word victim. “Tay didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident.”
“So, when can we start snowboarding?” Tay wanted to change the subject.
“I can’t believe it hasn’t snowed yet,” Paige said. “But we’ll get you out there soon.”
“Tay? On a snowboard?” Lizzie asked.
“He’s going to take lessons. From me,” Paige said.
Tay shrugged. “She says she’s the best.”
“I am. But it doesn’t mean much around here, ’cause the competition isn’t great.”
Lizzie met Tay’s eyes.
“Boarding lessons?”
“Why not? You think I can’t do it?”
“Old people board, too, Mom,” Paige said. “I think my dad probably boards.”
That put a damper on the conversation. “We have no idea, Paige,” Lizzie said. “And Tay’s not going to pay you. You’re going to do it for free.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Of course he’s not going to pay me. We’re trading snowboard lessons for him fixing the house.”
“How about that?” Tay smiled. “Like mother like daughter. We made a deal.”
Tay insisted on paying the bill, and soon they were in the foyer of the restaurant, putting on hats and gloves to face the two blocks to Tay’s truck. Paige dropped her glove and Tay bent to get it and the door to the restaurant opened and Candy walked in.
Tay could feel the extra chill in the room before he looked up.
Candy stared at him and the smile evaporated from his face.
Her eyes went from Lizzie to Tay to Paige.
Then she spun around and left the restaurant as quickly as she had come in.
“Tay, what’s wrong?” Lizzie asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Maybe something I ate.” But the numbness was back all at once as if it had never left. He felt nauseated and dizzy. He considered going after her, but what would he say? That he was deliriously happy like he’d never been happy in his life, and he had her to thank for it because she’d brought him to this town and tossed away his money, forcing him to stay, and then he’d fallen in love and even, just maybe, started to become part of a family?
He felt like the world’s biggest jerk.
They walked down the street to his truck, his arm around Lizzie and Lizzie’s arm around Paige, and he could still feel Candy’s eyes boring into him as if she were there. He looked around, paranoid. What if she was watching? Lizzie and Paige were singing a popular song that had been on the radio lately. They sang badly and they laughed and their little group looked as if it didn’t have a care in the world.
He took his arm from around Lizzie’s shoulder, separating himself from them.
How did he deserve all this happiness, togetherness, boarding lessons, hot sex, and this cozy town where everything was forgiven? He thought of Lizzie’s Enemy Club and their forgiveness. How they had to come together eventually, by force of gravity and human nature. And how they forgave each other because being alone—
Candy was always so alone.
He and Candy weren’t citizens of this town.
He dropped Lizzie and Paige at home and Lizzie watched him leave, clearly worried despite his assurances that he was fine. He’d talk to Lizzie later. He had to think this through.
He had given up on finding the money. So Candy would be kicked out of Galton. Then she’d leave and he could stay—
—and he’d feel like the world’s biggest putz.
He imagined learning to board with Paige. He imagined the winter turning to summer and maybe Lizzie and Paige would come out to his lake house. They’d swim, sun—
And Candy.
He’d never helped Candy. In fact, by his presence, he hurt her. How had he forgotten that?
It was so wrong, just thinking about it made him want to spit to get the taste out of his mouth.
Why was he so blessed with happiness?
He didn’t want to leave Lizzie. He didn’t want to leave Paige.
But he couldn’t stay here. Even if Candy left because she was kicked out of school, it was her town. He’d come to help her and he’d only helped himself. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten her—
He had.
He had moved on just like that.
He drove slowly down the hill, across the town, toward the lake.
He got to the fork in the road. To the right, the road led to the highway out of town. To the left was the lake and his cabin.
He stopped his truck in the middle of the intersection, his headlights lighting up a sliver of trees in front of him. The road was deserted around him, the only sound his motor, echoing off the unseen cliffs.
If he wasn’t helping Candy, then he was hurting her. He had no right to stay here. The look on her face had been one of pure distress. When he’d not been a fully functioning person, he hadn’t run into her. He had been either at Lizzie’s or holed up at the lake cabin. He’d been up most nights, slept in most of the days. But now that he was getting more normal, he’d surely run into her. He’d been sleeping more at night now; sometimes, he’d even fall asleep before two in the morning, which felt like a miracle.
Candy didn’t deserve to have to worry about running into him.
Just as he turned his steering wheel toward the right and eased his foot off the brake, a deer poked its black nose out of the woods.
They stared at each other, and then, with a start, he remembered Dune and White.
He couldn’t leave them behind.
He looked into his eyes in his rearview mirror.
Who was he kidding?
He couldn’t leave Lizzie.
He steered his truck to the lake road, to home. He had to slow down. Think this through.
He’d talk to Lizzie tomorrow. Somehow, they’d figure this out.
CHAPTER
37
Tommy saw the girl driving the black BMW SUV and he put the lights on before he could think. It was the car from the bridge. Or maybe it wasn’t, but it was a black BMW SUV, and he’d already pulled it over.
The driver pulled over right away, in front of the hardware store, and it was too late to turn back. Tommy stared at her back bumper, wondering what he was doing. As if compelled by a strange force that he couldn’t control, he put on his hat and his sunglasses. He never wore the sunglasses. He hated cops who wore the sunglasses.
He strode to the side of her car.
She rolled the window down. With these new higher SUVs, you couldn’t stare down on drivers anymore. It took away a lot of the advantage. “License and registration.”
But of course, it couldn’t be that easy. “Did I do something wrong, Officer?” she asked. Her voice was defiant. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Probably a partier, from the look of her fancy car.
“Crossed the double yellows when you made that left,” he lied. He took a deep breath. “Is this the BMW that was blocking the bridge awhile back?”
She was searching in her red leather bag, but he saw her flinch. When she found her wallet, she turned back to him. “God, this is the world’s smallest, most boring town if you remember that. That was months ago.” She handed over her papers without smiling. “I hate this town,” she said.
He took her ID wordlessly back to his car. He copied down the information, staring at her picture. Candy Sue Williams. Blue eyes. Black hair. Nineteen years old. The license was from Newton, Massachusetts. A fancy town to go with her fancy car. No wonder she hated it here. Her nails were perfectly manicured. He could hear Annie’s voice in the back of his head: Now that’s one whose hair hasn’t been cut in this town.
This kid was the kind of girl who might stop
traffic, climb a guardrail, and scare innocent bystanders half to death by tossing a thousand dollars down into a gorge just for fun. She didn’t care about the town, well, hell, why did he care so much about her and her money?
He went back to her car and gave her back her papers. “I’m just going to give you a warning this time. But next time, watch the yellow lines.” His heart was beating hard. He was ruining his marriage over a snotty kid. How had he gotten it so wrong?
She rolled her window up and pulled away, her tires screeching, not at all careful about a thing. For the first time in weeks, the thought entered Tommy’s head that maybe Annie was right about the money after all. Some people, maybe, deserved to lose what they were careless with.
Maybe he was the one who had to stop being so careless.
Maybe he was the one in danger of throwing his life away by insisting on being right. Tossing his marriage away like a wad of cash over the side of a bridge.
At breakfast, Tommy told Annie about meeting Candy Sue Williams. Annie reached across the table and squeezed his hand, her first purposeful physical contact in ages. “You mean, you did something against regulations? I’m so proud of you, Tommy.”
Meghan cooed her agreement, banging on her tray for emphasis. He put some mashed home fries on Meghan’s tiny rubber-covered spoon and offered it to her.
A jolt of gratitude swept from the hand that Annie was still holding, through his body, and he thought, This is still wrong. He pulled his hand away from Annie, even though he tried not to. “It wasn’t exactly a proud moment. What I was trying to say is that the girl practically had money dripping out of her tailpipe.” He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back. He looked down at the hearty breakfast he had cooked—eggs, reheated home fries, two strips of no-nitrate turkey bacon, and cut-up melon. Sensible and healthy. It had all seemed so clear on the bridge. Now, it didn’t seem so cut and dried.
