I shudder.
After the grueling days Mariano has had, the idea of going out probably doesn’t even appeal to him. It doesn’t interest me, certainly. I’m happy to stay home and listen to the radio at a volume high enough that I can’t hear Jane and Father discuss a never-ending parade of meaningless wedding details.
And how would I even go about asking Mariano? I don’t know how to do that sort of thing. If Mariano wanted to have dinner with me, I’m sure he would ask. He doesn’t need me calling him up and pestering him about what he’s doing tonight, or how work is going, or if he ever plans to give back my notebook . . .
My notebook. Mariano still has my notebook.
I don’t particularly need my notebook. But it’s mine, and I’d like to have it.
I close myself into Father’s office, draw the telephone close, and dial from memory.
“It’s me, Piper,” I say when he answers. “Do you still have my notebook? The one I gave you when Lydia first went missing?”
“Hello, Piper.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I do.”
“Will you still be there fifteen minutes from now? I’d like to pick it up, if it’s no trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
I catch sight of the lackluster dress I’m wearing, feel my uncurled hair. “What about forty-five minutes? Will you be there in forty-five?”
“I’ll tell you what, Piper. I’m just about to wrap up for the day. How about I swing by your place on my way home?” His words are warm in my ear, and for the first time in a while, something besides anger, sadness, and fear quivers to life within me.
I’m just putting the finishing touches on my hair when Joyce calls up the stairs to me. “Piper? Detective Cassano is here to see you!”
He’s here already? I stare at myself in the mirror for a moment, cataloging my paste-colored face, the circles under my eyes. My efforts to make myself look fresh and attractive have been wasted. And now I’ve manipulated him into traveling all this way just to return a notebook I don’t even need.
Piper, this isn’t like you at all, Lydia admonishes. Put down the kohl pencil and go say hello to that nice young man.
I take a deep breath. It’s just Mariano. He’s seen me at my worst—he can certainly endure this.
But I don’t want him to endure me. I want him to like me.
I peek down the staircase. He stands in the entryway, one hand in his pocket, jingling loose change, and the other gripping my notebook, which I had once given him with such na?ve hope.
“Hello,” I say when I’m halfway down the stairs.
His head snaps up. “Wow. You’re very quiet.”
“It’s a gift.”
Mariano grins at me as I reach the last step. “Here.” He stretches out my notebook. “Sorry I hung on to it so long.”
“It’s okay.” I hug it to my chest. It smells like disappointment and the cigarette smoke that clouds Mariano’s office. “Thanks for trying.”
Mariano’s eyes shine with regret. “I wanted to bring her home, Piper. I wanted to so badly.”
“I know you did.”
His dark gaze hangs on me. Can he see the fatigue? That simply existing is tiring for me right now?
If he can, he’s too much of a gentleman to speak it. “You look nice. Are you heading someplace special tonight?”
My heart pounds, and I try to make my voice casual. “No. I’m completely free tonight.”
Mariano’s gaze sweeps over the length of me, and I know he’s cataloging the evidence—my scarlet drop-waist dress that frees my legs for an evening of the Charleston, red lipstick and kohled eyes, my carefully marcelled hair. “You might be a little overdressed for an evening around the house.”
My teeth press into my lower lip before I remember my lipstick. “Well, maybe I’ll go out for a bit.”
Mariano’s smile hangs crooked as he leans against the banister. “You know, on the way over here, I got to thinking about this place that sells pizza in Little Italy, near where I grew up. I thought I might grab a slice and take a walk through the park there. There’s usually music on Friday nights in the summer. What do you think of joining me? Seems like a terrible waste to leave you at home in that dress.”
My yes catches in my throat, catches on a lump of guilt. How can I feel happy—excited even—with Lydia dead? How can I enjoy a night out with Mariano knowing that I never would have met him had I not lost Lydia?
Piper, I won’t be any less dead if you go out and enjoy yourself.
Mariano’s hand settles on the banister, beside mine so that our pinkie fingers brush together. “Or maybe it’s too soon.” The words are like a caress, and I want to lean in. Want to let myself be swept away by this man who knows that I’m trying, but struggling, and it’s not about him.
The notebook is between us, still hugged to my chest. I lower it. “Let me fetch my hat.”