“Mommy! You forgot my costume!” she shouted.
“Ohmigod,” Gwen cried and rushed toward her children, her arms outstretched, falling down on her knees to gather them to her.
With her purse over her shoulder, Libby hesitated at the sight of Gwen on her knees. She had her phone in her hand and lifted her gaze to Sam.
Sam couldn’t look at her. If she thought he would save her again, cover for her, pull her back from the edge, she was mistaken.
“I’ll go have a chat with her,” John said, and walked forward to intercept Libby.
“No,” Sam heard Libby say. “No, that’s not what happened. Alice forgot her costume and her recital is in twenty minutes,” she said looking at her phone. “You don’t understand how much dance means to her. If we hadn’t gone for her costume, she wouldn’t have had it in time. Dani will tell you,” she said, looking around. “Dani was here, she agreed, she said I should take them to get Alice’s costume. We tried to call Gwen, but she forgot her phone.”
“You should have left a note. Maybe called her husband,” Officer Powers suggested.
“But there was no time!” Libby said sharply. “And Dani was going to be here! I don’t get this,” she said gesturing to Gwen. “I was helping her, not hurting her. There’s Dani!” she cried, pointing up the street. “Dani, tell them! Tell them we agreed!”
Sam looked over his shoulder as Dani came hurrying down the street carrying several plastic Walmart bags. “Oh no,” Dani said, stopping on the sidewalk, her broad shoulders slumping. “Oh dear, this is all my fault. Our order of salad greens didn’t arrive, so I had to run down to Walmart, and there’s a wreck on the highway. You know how it is around here, there’s no way to get back across town by the old highway—”
“Dani,” Libby impatiently interrupted, “just tell them that you and I agreed it was best that I take the kids when we couldn’t get hold of Gwen.”
“Alice forgot her costume,” Dani said, nodding. “And Libby wanted to take the kids. She said it would be quicker.”
Libby gasped. She looked at Sam. “I did say that, but after we tried to call Gwen and couldn’t get an answer.”
“Well, maybe so,” Dani said uncertainly, her brow furrowing with thought. “I just know that there wasn’t any time, and Libby didn’t want me to call Ryan, so yes, she said she would take them and I said I’d be here to tell Gwen. And I meant to.” She turned to Gwen, who was standing again, a firm grip of each child’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Gwen,” Dani said. “But the produce truck didn’t come, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“See?” Libby demanded of Sam. “I didn’t take her kids!”
Sam’s heart had already begun sliding out of his chest because the damage was done. No matter how good her intentions, she should never have taken those children, and the most distressing thing was that Sam didn’t know if Libby even understood that.
Dani was consoling Gwen, who was, understandably, unhappy that Dani had agreed Libby should take her kids, and John Powers was trying to diffuse Gwen’s unhappiness by pointing out it was all a misunderstanding.
“Oh, I know,” Gwen said angrily. “It’s always a misunderstanding with Libby Tyler! Everyone in town knows that.”
“Mom, we have to go,” Alice said, pulling on her mother’s hand. “We’re going to be late!”
“We’re already late,” Gwen said angrily, and glared at Libby. “Thanks a lot, Libby. Now, we’re late for Alice’s dance recital. You knew I wouldn’t want you to take them. You could have come to the printer’s and intercepted me, for heaven’s sake. There are a hundred other things you might have done than put my children in your car and take them from here.”
Libby looked shaken. She pushed her hair from her face. “I meant only to help Alice,” she said again. “And you, Gwen. She needed her costume in a very short time.”
“Right,” Gwen scoffed, and took her kids by the hands. “Come on, kids, we’re late.”
Sam didn’t hear what else John said to Gwen as she began ushering her children to her car, because a white van with the faded words fresh baked rolled up to the curb, its engine making a clunking noise. Leo had arrived for the auction.
“Step aside, mere mortals, the star is here,” he called out as his dad wheeled him out of the back of the van. He was wearing a suit that hung awkwardly on his bent body, dark sunglasses, and a silk scarf around his neck. His useless feet were encased in black leather shoes polished to a high sheen. He was smiling crookedly, one arm bent at an odd angle against his chest. He looked like a rock star.
“Let’s do this,” he said happily.
“Sam, l—”