“I—did. Yes. Three really pretty ones. Because you said groupings of three are better. But then I lost two.” Lost, threw into the ocean because of a hot guy; it was a fine line. “Sorry! Can we get by without them?”
“I told them you were out foraging. To create tonight’s centerpiece.”
As opposed to last night’s centerpiece, because what kind of plebe used the same table decorations twice?
“I’m sure we can find something. Here.” Bending, Libby scooped a handful of crushed shells from the ornamental border lining the path. They looked more like broken teeth than something that had washed up on a beach. “How about this?”
Jean stared at the crunchy bits of white. “You know what? YOLO. Maybe tomorrow we can use gravel. Or dirt clods. Because she’s so earthy.” She nudged Libby in the direction of the house.
“Anything else I should know?”
“I’m your housekeeper. My life imploded but you gave me a second chance, because you’re all about women helping women.”
“Imploded how?”
“I didn’t go into details.”
Libby nodded, relieved. They had enough lies to juggle without one of Jean’s embellishing sprees.
“Sort of hinted it involved prison.” Jean waved at her shoulder, as if the delicate constellation of plumeria and ravens she’d designed could pass for jailhouse ink.
“Oh boy.”
“Also I’m Irish,” Jean mumbled, like she didn’t really want Libby to hear.
“You’re kidding.”
“It slipped out. I was trying to get in character.”
“Lillibet has an Irish ex-con housekeeper.” Was it too soon to give up? “In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.”
“Or a wee tuppence, as me mam used to say.” Jean sent her a hopeful look.
Libby shook her head. They’d have to pray their guests didn’t know any real Irish people. Or watch a lot of PBS.
“The good news is that Keoki is mixing up a batch of his li hing mui margaritas.”
“Is the plan to get them drunk or are we numbing the pain?”
“Yes,” Jean replied.
“It’syou,” the young woman in the purple maxidress said on an awestruck exhale. In person, she looked about seventeen, with flawless skin that seemed to barely contain her buzzing energy. She moved toward Libby as if in a trance, arms extended.
Was Lillibet a hugger? Libby had no idea. To be on the safe side, she opted for a ladylike hand squeeze, and a lean that stopped just shy of air kisses.
“In the flesh,” she replied. Wherever possible, Libby hoped to stick with lies of omission rather than straight-up untruths.
“You’re literally glowing. Wow.”
If she were being herself right now, Libby would have admitted that her alleged radiance was the result of Jean flicking shower water in her face while ordering her to “snap out of it.” Instead, she offered a faint smile that hopefully read as quietly confident, like a full-of-it Mona Lisa.
Glowing was the last thing she felt she was doing, especially compared to the vibrant youthfulness of their guest, with her bright eyes and abundant curls. Libby might not be that much older in years, but she was hunched like a crone under the weight of deception. And not only on the inside. A series of pokes between the shoulder blades, courtesy of Jean, let her know she was slouching.
“I can’t wait to see JJ’s face. That’ll teach him to question me. Or you!” Hildy grinned at Libby as if the two of them were in on a joke.
“I’ve always preferredqueststo questions.”And if I had a blunt instrument, I’d bludgeon myself with it.
“Speakin’ o’ which,” Jean cut in, “her young fella’s gone walkabout, so he has.”
