“Talk to me about what?”
They both turned to see Jack coming down the hall toward the dining room.
“Hello, Lucy,” Jack said.
“We have a situation,” Hugo said before Lucy could speak.
“I hate situations,” he said. “Couldn’t we go one day without a situation?”
“Hugo—” Lucy said. “It wasn’t—”
“We need to call the ferry in,” Hugo said, ignoring her protest. “The good Dr. Dustin disqualified himself.”
“Jack, I—” Lucy began.
“Don’t try to protect him,” Hugo said. “He wouldn’t do the same for you, and you know it. Jack, Dustin tried to get Lucy to cheat with him, and he wasn’t very polite when she told him no.”
Jack took a moment to absorb the information. Lucy could imagine his heart was a little broken by the news. She had the feeling that when he looked at them—Melanie, Andre, Dustin, and her—he saw them still as kids, as his kids.
“Call in the ferry,” Jack said with a sigh. Hugo pulled his phone from his pocket and walked out the front door.
“Sorry,” Lucy said.
“Don’t be sorry, my dear. It’s not your fault Dustin forgot the second rule of Clock Island. Always trust the Mastermind. He’s on your side, even when it seems he isn’t.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lucy took a long hot shower, trying to wash away the stress of last night and this morning. When she got out, she found a note under her door.
Scared it was some kind of cruel parting shot from Dustin, Lucy didn’t open it at first. But the paper was sky blue, the color of Jack’s stationery. She finally opened it. Someone had written, Gift outside the door. Don’t freak out. It doesn’t bite.
The note was signed H.R. (Not Human Resources).
Lucy opened her door and found a cardboard box. She picked it up and took it to the bed, closing the door behind her. What had Hugo given her? She opened the box.
Shoes. That was all. Just a pair of women’s hiking boots, dark brown leather, L.L.Bean, of course, because this was Maine. Slightly worn but otherwise in excellent condition.
Lucy knew she should have felt grateful for the gift, but she didn’t. She felt like crap.
She sat on the bed and stared down at the shoes. Stupidly, she’d almost convinced herself he’d been flirting with her today—rescuing her from Dustin’s creepy scheming, offering to play bodyguard—and yes, she would absolutely let him guard her body. But the free shoes? That didn’t feel like attraction. More like pity. More like charity. Those were the last things she wanted from him. He was a nice guy. That was all. He was nice to her because he was nice, not because he liked her. And even if he did like her, she had no business liking him back. The last thing she needed was a hopeless crush on a famous artist.
And, she reminded herself, he’d been flat broke before. He knew how it was—no money, single mother. Okay, so maybe giving her the shoes wasn’t charity. Maybe it was solidarity. Still, it stung. But she was going to be a grown-up about it. Only an ingrate or fool wouldn’t accept a pair of high-quality hiking boots that looked almost new, especially when her shoes were falling apart.
Lucy fished her phone out of her jeans pocket and sent Theresa a quick text.
Tell me to stop being an idiot.
She doubted she’d get a reply, but one came in fast. Lucy checked the time. Only 6:46 a.m. in Redwood. Theresa had probably just gotten out of bed fifteen minutes earlier.
We don’t let the kids call people “idiots,” so you can’t either.
Lucy wrote back, Just tell me “eyes on the prize” or something so I can stop thinking about this guy on the island.
Theresa immediately called. Lucy laughed, answered her phone. Before she could even say hello, Theresa said, “Who’s the guy?”
“Good morning,” Lucy said.
“Forget morning. Who’s the guy? Another player?”
“His name’s Hugo Reese, and he illustrated the Clock Island books. And he is beautiful.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” There was a pause. Theresa was probably googling Hugo on her phone. A few seconds passed. Then, “He’ll do. He’ll do twice. He looks like a sexy college professor.”
“He does now,” Lucy said. “I met him when I was here the first time. Back then, he looked like a guitar player in a nineties punk band. Full-sleeve tattoos.”
“I gotta see this.” Theresa paused, and Lucy waited for her to find some older pictures of Hugo. “Oh my…” She must have found a good picture.
“English too.”
“Like Prince William?”
Lucy thought about it. “More like a guy who would punch Prince William outside a pub.”
“Even better.”
Lucy laughed. She knew Theresa could cheer her up.
“He likes you?” Theresa asked.
“I don’t think so,” Lucy said. “But he gave me a pair of shoes.”
“Um…shoes? What the hell?”
“Are you cooking while talking to me?” Lucy asked when she heard pots and pans rattling in the background.
“I’m a kindergarten teacher. I can multitask like an octopus. Tell me.”
Lucy told her everything that had happened so far—the coat, the lawyer, the “spoiled brat” remark, Dustin, the rescue, the shoes.
“He likes you,” Theresa finally said.
“You think the shoes were flirting, not pity?”
“Martin bought me a fish tank when he was trying to get with me. Men are crazy when they’re crazy about a girl. He gave you his shoes. You give him your panties.”
“You teach kindergarten, Theresa.”
“I also have a husband. Get him.”
“I’m not here to get a husband, remember? You’re supposed to tell me to keep my eyes on the prize. I’m doing this for Christopher.”
“Honey, if anybody deserves two prizes, it’s you. Win your game. Get your boy, then get your man. The end.”
Lucy rubbed her forehead. “Theresa. This is not helping.”
“Call up someone stupid then. I’m too smart to tell you not to flirt back. Flirt back. Hard. Make him give you a fish tank, baby girl.”
“I love you,” Lucy said. “You’re insane, but I love you. Thank you for making me feel slightly less like shit.”
“You don’t feel like shit. You are the shit, baby. Don’t you forget it. And I love you too. Be good but not too good, okay?”
“You too.” They hung up.
Talking to Theresa had helped. Lucy took off her old Converse sneakers and tossed them under the bed. She found her thickest pair of socks and put them on. The boots fit pretty well. Traipsing all over the island would be much easier now with a pair of almost-new hiking boots. She looked herself over in the mirror. They looked great with her red skinny jeans—a Goodwill find—and her favorite black crewneck sweater, an old gift from Sean.
After she brushed her teeth, it was almost two o’clock. She walked to the picnic tables at One O’Clock.
Andre and Melanie were there. No Dustin.
“Take a bow, Lucy,” Andre said, giving her a golf clap. “You figured out the puzzle this morning, and you got rid of Dustin.”
“I didn’t mean to.”