I exit the greenhouse to the outdoor area and wander for a bit down the rows of plants: mostly brightly colored mums, as well as marigolds and zinnias, the flowers I always associate with fall. I realize that the summer has rushed by with me barely experiencing it, coming to an end on the most tragic note.
“Hello, Kiki.” The words come from behind me.
I spin around and find Percy standing only a few inches away. I’m so shocked I can’t summon a reply.
“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you?” she asks, as I struggle for the right response. I don’t want her to guess I’ve been suspicious of her, or evencuriousabout her, which means I need to play dumb right now.
I cock my head to the side. “Oh, you were at the party at the Davenports’?” I say finally. “I’m sorry not to have recognized you.”
She offers a tiny cat smile, as if she knows I’m being disingenuous and is amused by the fact, even eager to play along. For a second her hazel eyes hold mine and won’t let go.
“Well, you were very busy, if I’m remembering correctly,” she says, with an odd edge to her voice.
“You—you heard the news, I assume.”
“You bet I heard. I was Jamie’s date that night.”
But she wasn’t. Does she actually believe it, or is she intentionally lying to see how I’ll respond?
“It must be hard for you, then, dealing with what happened.”
“Of course, and on top of everything, I need to put on a big fake smile at work every day. I just wish there was more I could have done for Jamie that night.”
“Donefor him?” I say, taken aback by her comment.
“Yeah.” She shrugs a hunter-green shoulder. “But it was hopeless. That’s why I left the party early. I finally saw that I couldn’t give him what he needed.”
“And what exactly did he need so much?” I ask, now even more confused.
“Support. Understanding.... Forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?Forgiveness for what?”
She purses her lips into a tiny pout. “It’s really too private to discuss, but you should know that he and I shared an awful lot with each other.” Her arched eyebrows lift even higher. “Which means I know all about you, Kiki. And what happened between you and Jamie.”
Her words leave me feeling unbalanced, like I’m crossing one of those swaying jungle bridges you see in movies, made with wood slats and rope for handrails. But turning around is just as scary as going ahead.
“And what—”
Her gaze has shifted over my shoulder, as if a customer or a manager has caught her attention.
“I really need to get back to work.” And without another word, she strides away.
My heart is racing as I pull out of the parking lot a few minutes later. Had Percy noticed me spying on her through the foliage, like I was playing at being Veronica Mars or Nancy Drew? The thought makes me cringe.
But the embarrassment isn’t what’s left me shaken. It’s her implication that she and Jamie had a relationship and that she had knowledge of his private thoughts—about me and more. I know from Sam that she’s a liar. So maybe everything she said to me just now was a lie, an attempt at malice, or a game played to get a rise out of me.
But what if Sam has it wrong, and her connection to Jamie was deeper than he realized?
I need to know what was really going on between her and Jamie. And beyond that: What on earth did he want to be forgiven for?
17
AS SOON AS I’M BACK AT THE HOUSE, I MAKE A FRESH POT OFcoffee and return to my usual spot at the dining table. I do another internet search on Percy, wondering if I missed something, but I don’t turn up anything else. When I talk to Sam next, I’m going to see if he knows any other details about her, anything he forgot to tell me or didn’t want to share at first.
What I should do next is prep for my Monday client calls and finish my blog post, but I decide to postpone both of those tasks. Instead, I finally google search the properties I went to see, the top question in my mind whether they’re even for sale. I type the first address into my search bar. Though it pops up on several local Realtor sites, it was last on the market a year ago in August, with an estimated closing price of $245,000. Staring at the listing photos, I’m struck again by how the house, one of the ranches, isn’t the kind of place Jamie would have been interested in, even if it had been for sale.
I go through the rest of the list, including the two apartments in Florida, both of them in medium-size condo buildings. Though these eight properties all show up on at least one Realtor site or on Zillow—all in roughly the same price range—none of them has been on the market within the past year. In fact, one of them was last sold seven years ago.
