“He went to his family’s beach house for the weekend. On top of that, I really should be there because I’m his teacher. I have to report back his etiquette, interactions, and everything.”
“This seems like an exception,” Phoebe says.
“You need to head out to the Cape, but not because of work,” Freddie says.
“Does that count as an island? Do you want to go with her?” Phoebe asks.
I balk. “I can’t just show up there.”
“Lady Libby the Love Liaison thought you were a match meant to be,” Phoebe adds. “But do you?”
Staring at my hands, Chase’s comment about wanting to be with me floats back, and I say, “Yes, so much.”
“Then there’s only one solution. Go after him,” Freddie urges.
“You’re telling me to go after your best friend?”
“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see my little sister marry.”
“Did you get hit in the head with a coconut while you were island hopping?” I ask.
“No, but I know when my sister needs her siblings and when she needs to be brave.”
I start to shake my head because that’s not in my rulebook. “I can’t chase him down.”
“Who says?” Freddie asks.
“Nothing in my manual from Blancbourg prepared me for this.”
“Heart fluffies, rah, rah, rah!” Phoebe shouts as though doing a cheer and shaking pom-poms, encouraging me to go after Chase.
But it’s no longer about that. As Rhett said about having business to conduct, I’m the coach, not a team player. Although I don’t have a real cave to retreat to, I wrap my heart up and hide it away, thrust my shoulders back, and order some mozzarella sticks.
After my siblings help me patch up my wounds, I say a prayer. Right there on the sidewalk, I ask God to show me what I’m meant to learn from the situation.
A yellow taxi halts by the curb and I jump back, afraid it’ll run into the puddle and splash me. The tire misses it by mere inches. Freddie gives me the address for the house in Chatham. I get the highlights of a wild weekend visit several years ago. He and I say a hurried goodbye while I get in and he waits for the next cab to bring him to the airport.
First, I go to the brownstone for my belongings. I half expect Chase to be here, but it’s only the workers fixing the leak. The house next door is silent and no one answers when I knock. Sitting on the stoop, I rest my head in my hands as I have second thoughts. Should I get on the first flight to Hawaii? Go back to Concordia? Crawl into an actual cave?
My phone rings, startling me.
It’s Phoebe. Without preamble, she says, “What’s her last name again?”
“Who’s?”
“The meanie. Marlow.”
“Dwight.”
“No, I don’t think that was it.” The clicking of computer keys comes through the phone.
“That’s what Rhett Collins said. Marlow Dwight. Her father is Warner Dwight, the head of Dwight Drilling in Texas. Big money or something.”
“Are we talking about the same Marlow from high school?”
“Yeah, Mean Marlow.”
“Ah. Found her. Her last name was Dunlop and she was a scholarship student.”
