“This is exciting,” Hildy’s uncle said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s been ages since I personally supervised a photo op.”
“Technically this is my operation, but okay.” Hildy handed him a sun hat. “I’m glad you could join us. There’s no substitute for getting out in the field. Is everyone clear on the drill?”
Jefferson shrugged, visibly uncomfortable, but Mr. L piggybacked on Uncle Richard’s nod with a crisp salute.
“Good.” Hildy checked the time on her phone. “Let’s project ourselves into the present, collecting each moment like a pearl to be strung on the necklace of our lives.” She glanced at Libby, inviting her to add her two cents. Or, in this case, nonsense.
“It’s about gathering treasure,” Libby improvised. “From the—deepest part of our inner core.”
“The appendix?” Uncle Richard guessed, pressing a hand to his lower back.
“Those are the kidneys,” Jean informed him.
“I had mine removed,” Mr. L confided.
Hildy’s uncle blinked at him. “Your kidneys?”
“Appendix. But I still have my gallbladder.”
“We all have empty spaces,” Libby said, before anyone else could join the roll call of missing organs. “And yet we find a way to be whole.”
“Some holes are easier to fill than others,” Jean quipped, helpful as always.
“Amen, sister.” Hildy stationed herself at Jean’s side. “Speaking of treasure, you’re coming shopping with me, right?”
Libby watched the two of them link arms, trying not to feel like the odd woman out.
“We’ll leave Lillibet in charge here,” Hildy said, offering Libby a trusting smile that somehow doubled as marching orders.
“I’m perfectly capable of overseeing matters,” Uncle Richard said.
“I’m talking about the jewelry,” his niece informed him. “Lillibet’s sense of style is on a different plane from yours. No offense. Besides,” she added, cutting off Uncle Richard’s sputtered protest, “you’re too recognizable. Whereas Lillibet can still go incognito—for now.”
That perked him right up. “We should have disguises.”
No sooner had Uncle Richard spoken than Mr. L trotted off, returning with free maps of the park from a nearby kiosk. He and Hildy’s uncle immediately unfolded theirs, holding them in front of their faces.
“Surprise me,” Hildy told Jefferson in parting. “But let Lillibet choose, because I don’t want to look like a rodeo princess.”
“So no horseshoes?”
Libby caught the trailing end of his almost-smile. His eyes looked even brighter now, set off by the tan he’d picked up since arriving on the island. How was it possible she’d only known him for a handful of days? It was as if every minute they’d spent together weighed ten times as much as an ordinary one. Maybe that was a side effect of living a double life—especially when part of it felt so real.
If she hadn’t been halfway to infatuated already, his gentleness when she burned her finger would have tipped her over the edge. Being taken care of was Libby’s emotional Achilles’ heel. She had formed attachments to drugstore employees who helped her choose the right shade of lipstick, never mind emergency first aid.
“Um, the jewelry place is over here.” Libby rotated her arm like she was backstroking on dry land, almost taking out Mr. L. He frowned, possibly reevaluating his choice of fake wife.
“The photographer is in place,” Uncle Richard reported as they wove through the crowds.
Despite having most of a journalism degree, Libby had been unaware until today how many of the paparazzi shots on the pages of celebrity magazines were prearranged by a publicist. Hildy and her uncle had placed a few calls to ensure that someone with a camera would be on hand to “surprise” Jefferson while he “shopped” for rings. Nice to know she wasn’t the only one on the fringes of the media ecosystem with a dubious relationship to truth.
At the Pearl Diver booth, they left Jefferson staring down at a display case while Libby and her businessman buddies hovered awkwardly out of the frame. She almost looked like one of them, thanks to the powder-pink suit Jean had strong-armed her into wearing. The sleeves barely reached her elbows and there was a brightly patterned scarf around her waist, concealing the fact that the skirt was too small to fasten, but it was still twenty times snazzier than anything in Libby’s closet.
Think of it like Spanx,Jean suggested when Libby complained about the itchy fabric and tight fit.It’s a reminder to keep sucking it in.
At least she’d gotten to wear her own clothes at Tutu’s last night, since Mr. L wasn’t there to notice. Plus Keoki’s brothers would have teased Libby mercilessly if she’d shown up dressed like an uppity Realtor.
“On your six,” Uncle Richard murmured. “Our shutterbug has arrived.”
