Did it matter? Don’t know, can’t tell—even now I’m writing this I’m too churned up to figure it out.
“You’re not called Charlie Jones, either?” Rosie asked him, hushed.
“I’m really sorry. I don’t know what else to say. Charlie suggested I could step into her shoes and come here, and…”
“Charlie did?” Rosie straightened. Her hand tightened on Marly’s. “So you know her? The person who actually applied for the job?”
“My wife,” Berty said.
Guess we were officially dropping the “ex,” then. No surprise there.
He looked at Oliver. “Do you know where she is? Is she OK?”
“She’s fine. She’s good, actually—the best I’ve seen her.”
Berty stiffened. “You’ve seen her? Is she here, then? She sent me a message this morning about coming here, but it was pretty random even by Charlie standards and I freaked out that she’d…you know.”
Not sure what that meant.
“She’s safe,” Oliver said. “She’s OK.”
Berty’s shoulders sagged.
“So there is a real Charlie Jones? Who wrote me that letter? Who applied for this job?” Rosie said insistently.
“Yeah, yeah, there is,” Berty said. He checked his phone, then his gaze turned to me. “And what exactly are you doing here, Aspen?” he said, with uncharacteristic sharpness.
Felt myself flush hot with shame. “It was Brianna’s idea,” I blurted.
“You know Brianna?” Oliver asked.
“She’s my sister. How doyouknow Brianna? Who evenareyou?” My voice cracked slightly.
Oliver looked lost. “I’m…I’m a friend of Charlie’s. That’s how I knew Brianna—through her. Did you know Charlie? As in, Charlie Jones?”
“That clears things up,” Galoshes said.
“This is Aspen,” Berty said shortly. “We dated for a while. When Charlie and I were apart. When you were dating Charlie.”
This was directed at Oliver.
“Oh my God,” I said, staring at Oliver. “Youdated Charlie Jones? As in, the Charlie who’s friends with my sister? Berty’s ex-wife?”
“Yeah. I mean, Charlie and I have been just friends for a long time,” Oliver said—not sure if it was for Berty’s benefit or mine. “She wanted this job, but then she…changed her mind, and suggested that I could just step into her shoes here. I know it was wrong,” he said, turning to Rosie and Marly. “I should never have done it. And once I had done it, I should have told you. I kept telling myself it was just a name, and it didn’t matter as long as I was doing a good job…”
“It did matter,” Marly said. “It really fucking did.”
“But this Charlie,” Rosie said, looking between us all. “The one who actually applied to work at Bramblebay. Where is she?”
“I’m so sorry, Rosie,” Oliver said, just as Berty said, “That’s what I want to know.”
Berty did a sudden double take at Rosie. “You’reRosie?” he said. “Rosie Nicole?”
“Yes. Yes,” Rosie said, clutching one hand to the scarf at her throat.
“Oh, fucking hell,” Berty said, removing his cap altogether.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Rosie whispered. “Your wife.”
