Fay sniffs. “Is that right?”
“Jeffery Duncan. He says you’re staying at his house for
the summer.”
“Never heard of him,” she says, trying to get past me.
I block her again. “I always did find it strange that I’d never
heard of any Cartwrights in Crest Harbor. That I never met
your loving parents. Was never invited to brunch or supper or
even tea. The fiancé of their only child, and I never so much as
bumped into them at a party.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Fay says. “You’ve cracked.”
“And speaking of parties,” I say, talking over her. “What
about the other night at Ned’s party? Who was the man? Why
did you tell him to watch us?”
“I don’t know who he is.”
“You’re lying. Is he your lover, Fay? You two were standing
awfully close in the library,” I say.
She shakes her head, looking bitterly amused. “You’re unbelievable, Lawrence. He’s my brother. He’s been away on family business. He came to visit me.”
I’m speechless. Fay thinks she’s proven me wrong. Little does
she know. All I can think of is what Hank told me before he
stumbled away drunk. All them Cartelli brothers look the same.
“Your brother,” I say carefully.
“Yes,” she affirms with a toss of her head.
Somehow, I don’t think she’s lying about this. Looking back,
I can see the resemblance.
“Your brother,” I repeat.
“Like I said,” Fay snaps. “Some of us are faithful. Some of us
wouldn’t dream of running around with anybody else.”
“If he’s your brother, then why is his last name Cartelli? Is
that your real name? Fay Cartelli?”
The color drains from Fay’s cheeks. Her eyes widen. Her lips
part, but for a moment, no words come out. Then, with a firm
shake of her head, Fay’s rage returns.
“Ridiculous!” “Is it?”
“Don’t you dare try and change the subject, Lawrence. We’re
not talking about me. We were talking about you and your nogood philandering.”
“How can I be faithful to you when I don’t even know you?”
It’s a low blow, perhaps, but not untrue. In the couple of weeks
that I’ve known Cassandra, I feel like I understand her better
than I ever have Fay.
“I’ve given you everything!” she shouts.
“Only your kiss. Never your heart. You keep me at a distance.
It’s like you don’t want me to know who you really are. Maybe
because you’re really Fay Cartelli from New York. Why, Fay?
Why are you pretending to be someone else?”
She pushes me with all her strength. “Let me past, you big
brute.”
“Please. I want to talk about this.”
“No!”
“I’m begging you.”
She shakes her head, but tears roll down her cheeks. “Leave
me alone!”
I’ve never seen her cry. Not even so much as a glassy eye. The
sight shocks me. Fay lowers her face, her shoulders shaking
with sobs. Stunned by this show of emotion, I fold her into an
embrace. She allows it, though I can feel the tension in her body.
When she calms, I ease her back and gently lift her chin so that
her tear-filled eyes are level with mine. She looks conflicted, scared.
I brush my fingers along her cheek, wiping away the streaks of
kohl. She’s undeniably beautiful. It’s not that we didn’t have some
good times this summer. I feel like somewhat of a cad for hurting
her. I don’t want things to end like this. I take her hand.
“Tell me one true thing, Fay. Just one thing.”
She searches my gaze, as if analyzing what to say. And then,
all at once, her face hardens.
“I’ll tell you one true thing,” she says, her voice low. “You’ll
be sorry for the way you treated me, Lawrence Foster. Mark
my words.”
Glaring, she pushes past me, and this time I let her go.
Chapter 24
Cassandra
fter another long day of research at the library, the
A
thought of coming home to dodge suspicion at dinner