'What?' he asked. 'What are you thinking?'
'Nothing. You'd better get going.'
He continued to look at her uncertainly.
'On your way out, would you stop and tell Beth I'll be down in a minute?'
He shrugged, then let go of her. 'Sure.'
Ivy hurried up the steps. She was glad she'd be spending most of her day off with Beth. If Ivy told her she didn't want to talk about something, Beth would drop the subject. Unfortunately, she had already agreed to meet Suzanne for dinner that evening, after Gregory and she returned from New York. Ivy wasn't looking forward to hashing over the details of Gregory's heroic rescue and every 'he said, I said' of Suzanne's date.
Ivy had just passed Gregory's room when his phone rang. She wondered if she should pick it up for him or let the answering machine take a message.
It's probably Suzanne, Ivy thought, calling to find out where he is. She stopped to listen; if it was her friend, she'd pick up the phone and tell her that Gregory was on his way.
The machine beeped. There was a moment of silence, then a voice said, 'It's me. I need the money, Gregory. You know I don't like to go to your old man. And you know what will happen if I don't get the money. I need die money, Gregory, now.'
The caller hung up without identifying himself, but she recognized his voice. Eric.
Ivy drummed her fingers on the wicker chair, looked out at the pond behind the Goldsteins' house, and checked her watch once more. Obviously Suzanne had forgotten about their plans. They were to meet there at six- thirty. It was now twenty-five minutes past seven.
Ivy was annoyed that she had waited this long, especially since she didn't even want to see Suzanne that night. But she thought that as a loyal best friend she should stick it out.
'Always your best friend,' she murmured. At home she had a large box of tattered letters, notes that Suzanne had started writing in fourth grade whenever she got bored in class. All the letters were signed, 'Always your best friend.'
Always — but the truth was, with Gregory around, things were changing between the two of them. And Suzanne was as guilty as she. Ivy got up from the chair abruptly and started down the porch steps.
From the other side of the house came the sound of a car in the driveway. A door slammed. Ivy circled around the house, then stopped. Gregory and Suzanne were walking slowly toward the house, their arms around each other, Suzanne's head on his shoulder. Ivy wished she had left earlier, much earlier.
Gregory spotted her first and stopped walking.
Then Suzanne looked up. 'Hi, Ivy!' she said with surprise. A moment later, her hand flew up to her head.
'Oh, no, I totally forgot! I'm so sorry. I hope you haven't been waiting too long.'
Since six-thirty, and you know it, and I'm starved, Ivy wanted to say, but didn't. But she also didn't play Suzanne's game by reassuring her in some way: No, no, I just got here myself. That's what she was supposed to say, wasn't it? Ivy just looked at her friend and let her figure it out.
Perhaps Gregory picked up on some of the tension between them. He jumped in quickly. 'We decided at the last minute to get a pizza at Celentano's. I'm sorry we didn't know you were here. Ivy. It would have been great if you'd come with us.'
He was rewarded with two glares: Suzanne's, for implying that dinner would have been great if Ivy had come; Ivy's, for suggesting that she'd enjoy being with them on a date. Hadn't he ever heard that three's a crowd?
Gregory unwrapped himself from Suzanne, then retreated toward the car. Slipping one hand in his pocket, he propped the other on the open door, trying to look casual.
'I can see there's going to be some talking here tonight, some dirt-dishing. Maybe I should leave before I get hooked by the soap opera.'
You are the soap opera. Ivy thought.
'You may as well,' Suzanne replied. 'Most guys are amateurs at talking.'
Gregory laughed — not as much at ease as he pretended. Ivy thought — then rattled his keys at them and left.
'I'm beat,' Suzanne said, throwing herself down on the front steps and pulling Ivy down next to her.
'Manhattan in the summer—1 tell you, it brings out the crazies. You should have seen all the people at Times Square, waiting for another vision of—' She stopped herself, but Ivy knew what she was about to say. She had already read about die angelic Barbra Streisand.
Suzanne reached out then and touched Ivy's face very, very gently. 'Aren't they getting tired of seeing you in the emergency room?'
Ivy laughed a little.
'How're you feeling?' Suzanne asked.
'AH right… really,' she added when she saw the doubt in Suzanne's eyes.
'Are you dreaming about this now, too?'
'I haven't so far,' said Ivy.
'You're tough, girl,' Suzanne said, shaking her head. 'And I bet you're hungry and ready to kill me.'
'Very hungry and almost ready,' Ivy replied as Suzanne pushed herself up from the steps and dug in her purse for her house keys. Peppermint, Suzanne's Pomeranian, greeted them with yaps of joy, anticipating dinner. They headed straight for the kitchen.
While Suzanne fed Peppermint, Ivy explored the Goldstein's refrigerator, which was always well stocked.
She settled for a large bowl of homemade soup. Suzanne set a pan of brownies and some lemon frosted cupcakes on die table between them. She cut herself a brownie, then swiveled back and forth in her chair. 'I've got him, Ivy,' she said. 'Gregory's definitely hooked. Now all I have to do is reel him in.'
'I thought you were going to reel him in last week, or maybe the week before,' Ivy recalled.
'That's why I need your help,' Suzanne said quickly. 'I'm never sure with Gregory. I have to know. Ivydid he go out with any girls this weekend? I mean, with me being away and him having to come home because of you, I wondered whether he got out his little date book and…'
Ivy chased noodles around with her soup spoon. 'I don't know,' she said.
'How can you not know? You live with him!' 'He was home Saturday morning. In the afternoon we played tennis and went shopping. At night he went to a movie with Philip and me. He was out for a while on Sunday afternoon, but the rest of the time he was with Philip and me.'
'And you. It's a good thing you're my best friend and Gregory's stepsister,' Suzanne remarked, 'or else I'd be insanely jealous and suspicious. Lucky for both of us, isn't it?'
'Yeah,' Ivy replied without enthusiasm. 'How about Monday? Did he go out then?'
'For a while in the morning, then late last night. Suzanne, I don't feel right reporting on him to you.'
'Well, whose side are you on?' her friend asked.
Ivy crumbled a cracker in her soup. 'I didn't know there were sides.'
'Who do you feel most loyal to, me or Gregory?' Suzanne persisted. 'You know, in the beginning I thought you didn't like him. In fact, I thought you couldn't stand him but didn't say anything because you didn't want to hurt my feelings.'
Ivy nodded. 'I didn't know him very well then. But I do now, and since I care about him and I care about you, and since you're chasing him—' 'I've caught him. Ivy.'
'Since you've caught him, and you hooked me years ago, how can there be sides?'
'Don't be so naive,' Suzanne replied. 'There are always sides in love.' She chopped away at the brownies in the pan. 'Love is war.'
'Don't, Suzanne.'
She stopped chopping. 'Don't what?'
'Don't do what you're doing to him.'
Suzanne sat back in her chair. 'Just what are you saying?' There was a noticeable chill in her voice.
'I'm saying don't play games with him. Don't push him around the way you've pushed^ around the other
