it out, but he did know that the sooner he could make her leave, the better, and the best way for him to accomplish that was to make sure she hadn’t forgotten his worst qualities.
If only the prospect of reminding her didn’t depress him so much.
THE EVIL QUEEN WASN’T A prima donna; Lucy would give her that. The next morning she worked side by side with Panda breaking down the bunk beds and carrying them outside. “Great cardio,” she told Lucy as she hauled a set of bedrails toward the front door.
Temple had pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and traded in yesterday’s black outfit for roomy navy workout pants and an oversize V-neck mesh knit top, neither of them stylish enough to have come from her own clothing line. “I’m getting the idea that you and Panda have some history,” she said.
Lucy moved ahead of her to hold the front door open. “Wrong idea.”
Temple wasn’t fazed by Lucy’s cool response. “As long as he does the job I hired him for”-she angled her cargo through the doorway-“I don’t care what the two of you do the rest of the time.”
Lucy wasn’t used to being addressed as anyone’s underling, but before she could fire back, the Evil Queen and her load of bedrails had disappeared down the front steps.
Lucy had discovered a padlock on the pantry door when she’d gone into the kitchen for breakfast, and since she hadn’t been up to doing battle with Panda on an empty stomach, she’d settled for coffee. But now she was hungry. She located a carton of black cherry yogurt and a cold hot dog. Before she could finish either one, she heard a truck pulling into the drive, followed almost immediately by the sound of a door slamming upstairs, presumably Temple hiding from sight. Soon Panda and the driver were unloading what proved to be gym equipment.
Lucy had planned to bake bread for Bree and Toby, but after last night’s pork chop incident, she couldn’t see that happening, and she rode to the farm stand empty-handed.
Bree stood on a ladder, painting a colorful ribbon garland across the top of the farm stand’s pale yellow frame, the kind of whimsical decoration that might be seen on a carousel. The colors coordinated with the old-fashioned moss-green quilt she’d tossed over the counter to showcase a row of three-bottle honey pyramids.
Toby popped out from behind the stand as Lucy got off her bike. “I saw Panda’s car go by yesterday. You got a job for me?”
Toby was a complication she hadn’t thought through. “Not for a while. One of my… girlfriends is visiting. We’re going to be hanging out, so it’ll be boring.” The idea of the Evil Queen as a girlfriend made her shudder, but she needed to lay some groundwork in case Toby showed up unexpectedly at the house, which he would almost certainly do.
“But I can still come over and do stuff, right?”
“Toby, please stop harassing her.” Bree gave Lucy a tired smile as she got down off the ladder, leaving her tray of paint pots balanced on top. Although the morning was warming up, Bree didn’t have any body fat, and she wore a lightweight gray sweater over her T-shirt. Neither the tan she was acquiring nor the fresh sprinkle of freckles across her cheekbones concealed her exhaustion. “I’ll do my best to keep him from bothering you.”
Considering Bree’s general ineffectiveness with Toby, Lucy wasn’t counting on it, and she slipped an arm around his shoulder. “The thing is, Toby, my friend isn’t exactly a kid person, so instead of coming over, maybe you could start showing me around the island. I know there are a lot of places I haven’t seen yet.”
“I guess.”
Lucy took in the Carousel Honey sign and freshly painted border. “I love what you’re doing. Is the sign working?”
“I’ve sold seven jars this morning.” She scratched a bee sting on her wrist, leaving a spot of raspberry paint behind. “I’m thinking about adding more products, maybe soap or beeswax candles. Whatever I can figure out how to make.”
“It’s still not going to be enough money,” Toby said, with his customary belligerence. “You should leave.”
Lucy quickly intervened. “The two of you have brought the farm stand back to life in just a couple of days. You should be proud of yourselves.”
“It’s Gram who should be proud,” Toby said. “It’s her honey.” He stomped off toward the house. “I’m calling Big Mike!” he shouted. “He said he’d take me out on his boat.”
“No!” Bree dashed to the driveway. “Toby, do not call Mike! Do you understand me?
Toby had already disappeared.
With an air of weary resignation, Bree tucked away a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She pulled a cigarette pack from a shelf behind the counter. “I’m no good at this.”
“He’s hurting,” Lucy said. “That makes him a tough challenge.”
“We’re both hurting.” She waved away the smoke, as if what hung in the air posed a bigger danger than what she was sucking into her lungs. “Sorry. Having a little pity party here.” She studied Lucy more closely. “You look so familiar. I feel like I know you from somewhere, but I’m sure we’ve never met. When I first saw you, I thought you were a kid.”
“I’m thirty-one.”
Her gaze drifted to Lucy’s hair, the new eyebrow ring, and the dragon tattoo on her neck.
“A case of arrested development,” Lucy said by way of explanation.
“I see.”
But Bree clearly didn’t see, and Lucy no longer felt right about keeping her identity hidden. She decided to take a risk. “I’m… sort of in disguise.” She hesitated. “I’m… Lucy Jorik.”
Bree’s eyes widened, her posture straightened, and she dropped her cigarette. She might be able to smoke in front of that odd girl who lived on the other side of the woods, but she couldn’t do it in front of the president’s daughter. “Oh… I…”
“I needed to hide out for a while,” Lucy said with a shrug. “This seemed like a good place.”
Bree realized she was staring. “Sorry. It’s just… a little unexpected.” She pushed at her hair again, trying to straighten it. “Why did you tell me? I’d never have guessed.”
“It doesn’t seem right to keep coming over here and not say anything. Hard to believe, but I have this thing about honesty.”
“But… You barely know me. I could tell everybody.”
“I’m hoping you won’t.” She wanted to change the subject. “That pity party you mentioned. Would you like to fill me in?”
A car slowed but didn’t stop. Bree gazed after it. “It’s a boring story.”
“I hate to admit this, but some days hearing about other people’s problems actually cheers me up.”
Bree laughed, the tension broken. “I know the feeling.” She wiped her hands on her shorts. “You really want to hear this?”
“Does that make me a bad person?”
“Don’t say you weren’t warned.” She rubbed absentmindedly at a paint flake on her arm. “Last November I came home from a luncheon at our country club and found my husband packing up his car. He said he was tired of our
“Ouch.”
“It gets worse.” The speckled sunlight coming through the trees cast her face in light and shadow, making her look both older and younger than she was. “He said he realized he owed me something for ten years of marriage, so I could have whatever was left after the debts I didn’t know anything about were paid off.”
“Nice guy.”
“Not even when I met him. I knew that, but he was gorgeous and smart, and all my sorority sisters were crazy about him. Our families had been friends for years. He was one of GM’s wonder boys before Detroit imploded.” She flicked her ash into the grass. “Scott and his temp headed off to Seattle to find their bliss, and the debts ate up everything we had. I’d only finished a year of college. I had no work experience and no idea how to support myself. For a while, I lived with one of my brothers, but after a few months of barely leaving my room, my sister-in-law let me know I’d worn out my welcome.”
She forgot her discomfort about smoking in front of the first daughter and reached for another cigarette. “Around the same time, Myra’s lawyer contacted me and told me she’d died and left her cottage to me along with her grandson. I’d only seen Toby a few times years ago when Myra came to visit me. Yet here I am. Mistress of my
