badly in her books.
Thankfully, Phoebe’s publisher accepted her version of events—or at least seemed to—after the blubbering researcher had admitted her error in front of a conference room of executives. They said they were committed to working with Phoebe and had every reason to believe things would blow over, just as they had for authors like Doris Kearns Goodwin, who’d been in her position. But they wanted to hold off on the paperback edition of the book until the situation cooled down. Meanwhile, the press—especially papers like the
Her pit bull agent, Miranda, had been blunt but empathetic. After all, she counted on those big advances and had a stake in Phoebe bouncing back.
“You’ll ride this out, Phoebe, don’t worry,” she said. “You’re one of the toughest women I know.”
Was that a compliment? Phoebe wondered.
“Why don’t you go somewhere where you can just chill for a while?” Miranda continued. “Cabo, for instance. That’s where I’d go. And you can finish the proposal for the next book while you’re there.”
Fat chance on Cabo, Phoebe had thought. Thanks to the increased expenses from carrying her apartment alone and the fact that the paperback was on hold, she’d be lucky to swing a trip to Tijuana. Sure, she had built a nice nest egg over the years, but it would be foolish to tap into it now. And what’s more, she hadn’t dared tell Miranda: she didn’t have a clue what the next book was going to be.
And then her old friend Glenda Johns had called with a plan. She suggested Phoebe teach a couple of nonfiction writing classes in place of a professor who’d decided to delay coming back after the birth of her child. It seemed to make all the sense in the world. Phoebe could sublet her apartment and regroup in a sleepy Pennsylvania town away from the prying eyes of the press. And with a clear head she could focus on what her next book should be.
When the waiter arrived, she ordered the grilled chicken with rosemary, one of the few dishes on Tony’s menu that wasn’t up to its eyeballs in sauce. During dinner she made some mental notes about her classes the following week. Once or twice her mind found its way back to the missing girl. Just let her be okay, she thought. Later, as she lingered over coffee, Tony sent over a plate of zabaglione with strawberries. It was delicious, and she ate the entire thing, wondering if all the sugar would make her feel less morose—or perhaps even more so.
“ ’Night, Tony,” she said after she’d paid her bill and rounded the corner of the dining room. He was standing at the host’s podium with the reservation book, just to the right of the bar. “The zabaglione was divine.”
“For
“I could tell—thank you.”
There were three people at the bar—a middle-aged couple and a solo guy with wavy, dark brown hair, his back directly to her. As she said good-bye to Tony, the guy at the bar turned his head in her direction. She saw recognition in his eyes and didn’t understand why. Then she realized: it was Duncan Shaw. He’d shaved off his mustache and beard in the three days since she’d last seen him.
Instinctively she dropped her mouth open in shock—at seeing him there, and at the change in his appearance. She watched his brown eyes flick to the left, just over her shoulder, checking to see who she’d been eating with. A second later his eyes betrayed his realization that she was alone—and that she’d lied to him about having plans. Damn, she thought. I am totally busted.
He smiled ever so slightly. Unsurprising, she thought. He’s not the sensitive type who’s going to seem wounded.
“Oh, hello,” Phoebe said, flustered. She noticed that in front of him were a half-filled pasta bowl and a nearly empty glass of wine. “What—what happened to your friends?”
“They wanted to drive to Bethlehem for dinner, and I realized I wasn’t up for that big of a night.”
“Look, I feel incredibly awkward,” she said, moving a little closer out of Tony’s earshot. “I don’t want you to think I lied to you.”
He smiled again, a little fuller this time so that it made the skin around his eyes crinkle. Though she guessed he was in his mid-forties, his skin was very smooth, perhaps from having had the beard. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m going to have another glass of wine and see if that will take the sting out.” The words could have played sarcastically, but his tone didn’t let them.
“But it wasn’t a lie—really. I had planned to stay in and work, but at the last minute, I ran out to grab a bite.”
“No need to explain.” Not quite as friendly this time. She wondered if he was one of those dark-eyed guys who sometimes got moody or sullen.
“By the way, I like your new look,” she told him, at a loss as to what else to say. But she meant it. She noticed for the first time—without the beard and mustache—that his nose had an appealing beak. More pirate than professor, she thought.
His smile returned. “Thanks. The beard was just an experiment, and it ran its course. Though I haven’t stopped jumping each time I look in the mirror.”
The bartender sauntered over to them.
“Can I top off your wine for you?” he asked Duncan.
“That’d be great,” Duncan said.
“How ’bout you, ma’am? Can I get you something?”
For a split second she thought Duncan would urge her to accept the offer, and to her surprise she realized she’d tell him yes. But Duncan said nothing, his silence nearly palpable. Of course, she realized. She’d made a bit of a fool of him, and he had no desire to have her stay now.
“Um, no, thank you,” Phoebe said. She turned back to Duncan. “Well, I’d better get back. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“You too,” he said.
What a dope I am, she thought as she made her way back up Bridge Street. I should have stayed in, eaten the damn salad. Well, at least this would discourage Duncan Shaw from asking her out again. He seemed nice but this wasn’t the time or place for her to become involved.
She cut back through the campus. As she hurried along the path, she wondered if there would still be a crowd near Curry Hall, holding vigil for the missing girl. But everyone had dispersed. As she reached the quad, however, she found a cluster of students gathered around a tree. She realized that they were tacking up a white flyer of some kind. Scanning the quad, she saw that all the other trees were already plastered with them. She cut across to one of the maples to read the flyer.
The headline read “Missing” above a photo of Lily Mack. She was pretty, with blond hair falling far below her shoulders and a small cleft in her chin. With a start Phoebe realized that she recognized the girl. She wasn’t in either of Phoebe’s classes, but Phoebe had walked with her in the rain recently, and shared an umbrella.
And the girl had told her a secret.
2
