Not me. You want to know my theory?
I think Bobby was having an affair, but not with Eva. I think he was sleeping with Alice.
Hear me out: Bobby moves into his brother’s house as soon as that email leaks. He doesn’t get a place of his own. He doesn’t go stay with Tish and Charles, even though they have a lot more room than Nick and Alice, who have a small child and a live-in nanny. Why would he do that if not to be close to Alice?
I know it sounds far-fetched, but the more you think about it, the more it’ll make sense. By the time the article came out, Bobby wasn’t sleeping with Eva. He was with Alice. Maybe he was even in love with her. Alice probably didn’t reciprocate his feelings. Bobby was probably just a bit of fun to her, a way to get Nick jealous.
Anyway, I’ll bet you Nick found out.
It would explain why Bobby and Nick punched each other on Halloween weekend.
Thirty-Four
Gina
Thursday, October 17th
The Basket Boy tradition started in 1955 with Anna Dewar, Richard Dewar’s wife. Rumor has it that Anna was a closet feminist who thought the idea of auctioning off young boys with picnic baskets to the highest bidder would empower young girls. Gina isn’t entirely sold on the rationale—will girls really develop higher self-esteem by paying to have a lunch date with their crush? But she does think the event is great fun. Or she used to, until last year when it was Calan’s turn and no one bid on him. Not a single girl. Gina had been so utterly panicked that she bid on him herself, which, in retrospect, was a truly awful idea.
Gina had expected Calan to opt out of the auction this year. She was certain he’d ask to skip school today—and Gina had been prepared to say yes. It’s a mother’s job to protect her son. But last night Calan had asked her what she was including in his picnic basket. His tone had been calm, casual. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned about a repeat of last year’s fiasco. Which, of course, has only made Gina even more anxious. She says as much to Caroline now.
“I don’t think you need to worry,” Caroline offers. They’re sitting on one of the benches at the town square. They’ve lucked out: the day is warm with a cloudless sky. “Think about it this way: even if things go badly, it’s still kind of amazing that an anxious kid like Calan isn’t concerned. It says a lot about his personal growth.”
“You’re right,” Gina agrees. It is immensely relieving, having Caroline back.
“And you know he’ll have the best picnic basket in town,” Caroline adds.
Gina blushes. She’s quite proud of the spread she’s prepared: two of her famous chicken Tuscany sandwiches, two blueberry muffins, tabouli salad, a chunk of Brie, a French baguette, two slices of fudge-covered chocolate cake, a bottle of Perrier, and a thermos filled with hibiscus tea. She’s purposefully skipped lunch—that way, she’ll be hungry enough to eat with Calan when no one bids on him again. If no one bids on him again.
Gina checks the time on her phone. In just a few moments, Calan will arrive, along with the rest of the high school students at Lilian Dewar Memorial High. A stage has been set up inside the gazebo, where the boys will line up and wait their turn. The master of ceremonies will present each young man, briefly describe their hobbies, and list the contents of their basket by using far too many adjectives: A mouth-watering, scrumptious, impossible-to-resist apple tart! A baked-to-perfection, heavenly, decadent chocolate cake!
Only those planning on bidding sit inside the gazebo, while everyone else—mostly ASC members and moms who want to make sure their sons and daughters are behaving properly—linger in the town square, drinking refreshments provided by the club, and pretending not be shamelessly cheering for their child.
Gina had arrived early to secure the best seats (those closest to the gazebo are considered prime real estate) and to oversee the decorations (the ASC is in charge of organizing the event).
Now, the space is starting to fill up.
“Who’s that talking to Missy?” Caroline asks. “The one with the dog?”
Gina follows Caroline’s gaze and spots Missy standing by the town sign, absorbed in conversation with Antoinette, who’s holding a drooling English bulldog on a leash. Missy is wearing jeans and a sweater in the town colors, baby blue and white. Gina is certain this is not a coincidence.
“That’s my new neighbor. The journalist.” She can hear the disdain in her tone. “The one who’s been trying to get people to talk to her about the allegations against Bobby.”
“Easy there, love,” Caroline says. “Not all journalists are evil.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Gina feels her skin prickle. “Though I do feel badly about how curt I was when she stopped by.” Antoinette had paid Gina a visit to ask for an interview. She’d gone to Nick’s to ask Bobby for one, too. They’d both declined. Obviously.
“I’m sure she didn’t take it personally.” Caroline squeezes Gina’s arm. “You have a lot going on.” Her tone is gentle, soft.
It’s a new experience, being consoled by Caroline. Gina loves Caroline—they’re best friends—but Caroline isn’t a consoler. Her specialties are logic and strategy, not soothing and comforting. Gina had expected Caroline to come back guns blazing, ready to go into battle for her—threatening to sue Eva Stone, to compel Bobby to take a polygraph, to shut down the internet if need be. To do what Caroline does best: fix things.
Instead, Caroline has asked gentle questions and offered sympathetic remarks. She’s been using nuanced language to refer to the scandal, calling it complicated and thorny. It’s disturbing, mostly because Gina worries it means her situation isn’t fixable. That her life is a sinking ship—maybe
