“Sure. Most everything is already set for the party. So tomorrow after lacrosse practice? I’ll pick you up. Unless you’d rather go with Rebecca.”
She made a gagging noise. “Please. I’d rather go shopping with Grandpa and end up with overalls and a straw hat.”
“You’d still look cute,” I said, giving in to the impulse to rumple her hair.
Nola pretended to be annoyed and stepped back. “I’ve got to do my homework and more SAT prep. I don’t think I’ll have time to set the table.”
“Right. Hey, quick question before you leave. If you were to hide something valuable, where would you hide it?”
She thought for a moment. “In the most obvious place, I think. It’s always the last place people look.”
With a quick wave, she walked back to the house, her solid gray uniform skirt swaying.
I went back to arranging potted baby bottles, trying to ignore the unsettled feeling I’d been carrying with me since Jack’s return. I’d been able to compartmentalize the issue of our marriage and place it into a box to be opened later. My unease felt more like fear, as if I had my hand on the doorknob of a darkened closet and I was unable to see inside. Too busy with life, work, and the party preparations, I reverted to the old Melanie—at least for now. Because doing so meant I could make myself believe that if I ignored it long enough, it would go away on its own.
CHAPTER 31
On the day of the shower, Rebecca and Pucci arrived early—and thankfully alone. Marc’s foot was completely immobilized and he was confined to a wheelchair for the time being, and Rebecca’s pregnancy prevented her from helping him down the stairs or into a car. I was doubtful that Marc would make an appearance at all, but Rebecca assured me that Marc would show up. Any normal person—a category that didn’t include Marc—wouldn’t have the gall to show up at the same house where he’d vandalized a valuable antique clock hunting for a treasure that didn’t belong to him, but Marc continued to insist that the clock had simply fallen on him when he’d stopped to admire it. I’m sure if Marc could find a way, he’d be here, prepared to snoop from his wheelchair.
“Maybe you should go home and stay with him in case he needs anything,” I suggested. “The party doesn’t start for another six hours and I’ve got everything set up here and ready to go—”
“I’m sure you think you do,” she said while pushing a blush-stained Pucci in a doggie stroller, its three wheels bumping over the grass in the backyard. If it got stuck, I wasn’t going to help her pull it out. She stopped in front of the glitter cannon. “Where are the other five I asked for?”
I smiled patiently. “The man at the party rental store assured me that one is more than sufficient for the space. Besides, I’m not sure how environmentally safe the glitter is, and we have lots of birds and squirrels in the backyard who probably shouldn’t be eating it, not to mention two toddlers.”
“Maybe you should teach them not to eat off the ground.”
“The animals or the children?” I asked, my voice laden with sarcasm, which always winged its way over Rebecca’s head.
“Both.”
I bit back a thousand comments, knowing that revenge would be sweet when I said the same thing to her in about eighteen months’ time.
Rebecca pushed the stroller forward toward the arbor canopy, where she’d be opening her presents. My father and his gardening club had covered it with beautiful puffs of pink and white carnations entwined with pink mesh and white lace. It had turned out so well that they’d taken pictures of it to be entered into an upcoming gardening competition.
Rebecca’s face fell. “But I wanted roses! I specifically said roses.”
I clenched my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t be tempted to strike her. I didn’t want hitting a pregnant woman to appear anywhere on my permanent record.
“Yes, you did. But since I’m paying for it, I had to find something more economical. And they did such a beautiful job, don’t you think?”
“They’re still not roses.” She sniffed. “Didn’t you read everything in the folder I gave you? Or listen during our dozens of phone calls?”
“Of course I did. Some things just weren’t . . . practical. But I used your caterer and menu—including wiener roll-ups to look like babies in blankets and bra-shaped sugar cookies.” I needed to make sure that no one gave me credit for the latter.
“And I have the two spotlights you requested in alternating red and pink to be trained on you while you open your presents. My dad will be the technical expert tonight, making sure the glitter cannon and colored lights operate as planned.”
She looked slightly mollified. “At least something will look right.”
I was saved by the back door opening and Nola coming out into the garden with Lindsey and Lindsey’s new white husky, Ghost. Lindsey carried a corrugated box, the flaps tucked into each other to keep it closed.
Ghost did his puppy lope toward us while Rebecca shrieked and picked up Pucci, holding him high.
“Oh, Ghost wouldn’t hurt Pucci, Mrs. Longo,” Nola soothed as Lindsey placed her box on the patio table. “He’s much too sweet.”
Rebecca’s expression made it clear she didn’t believe Nola.
“How did it go, girls?” I asked, referring to the SATs.
“Don’t ask,” Nola said. “I felt prepared, but it’s too hard to tell. I’m glad I had these for luck.” She held up her arm and jangled the two new four-leaf-clover charms, making my heart expand. “Lindsey and I finished early, but Alston was there until the last minute. She was crying when she finally left. I think her mom’s taking her shopping to help her feel better. But I think I aced the essay.”
“Well, you are your father’s daughter,” I said, making her blush.
Lindsey turned to me. “Do you think Mrs. Jimenez will mind watching Ghost with your dogs tonight? He’s still basically a puppy and not used to being left alone. With us at the movies, I don’t want him to get lonely.”