“We’ve been booked almost every night. It’s been great.” She knew that sooner or later they’d dispense with small talk and get down to what mattered. The elephant in the room that loomed larger than the draught horses on display in the Ag Fair’s back corral.
“Until now?” Winnie asked.
Annie’s lower lip started to quiver. “I haven’t seen you in weeks and you can still read my mind.”
“I can also read the internet.”
Of course Winnie knew. By now, everyone on the damn Vineyard did. Closing her eyes, Annie dropped her head. “I have no idea what happened. Simon Anderson is staying at the Inn. I ran into him last night at the Tabernacle. He put a glow necklace around my neck and wandered off into the swarm of colored lights. And, suddenly, I’m a pariah. John is furious. But he didn’t give me a chance to explain. It wasnothing. Simon clasped the necklace, then he went his way, I went mine. End of story.”
“But someone snapped a picture.”
“And posted it on that god-awful site.”
“Was it a publicity stunt for him?”
“But why on earth with me?”
“You’re not exactly a nobody, Annie.”
Annie laughed. “Compared to him? Come on, Winnie. Most readers who like my books might recognize my name. Period.”
“Has he had any bad press recently? Has his reputation been tarnished? You’re an attractive, successful woman, Annie. It might help his career if people think he’s connected to you.” Winnie spoke so fast she must have been thinking about this before Annie had run into her.
“Seriously? Thanks for the compliment, but I’m sure Simon Anderson can have his pick of ladies who are way more attractive and much more successful.”
When Winnie smiled, her teeth showed bright white against her copper skin. “Apparently your John does not agree.”
Annie groaned. “My John, as you call him, is not being rational.”
“In that case, forget about him. He’ll come around. Right now, it might be more important for you to talk to Simon. See if he knows who’s behind it. Let him know it’s disrupted your life. Maybe he does not understand what a tight-knit place the island is. And that most of us don’t care for the kind of gossip that hurts one of our own.”
Staring off into the mass of fairgoers, Annie knew that, as much as she loved the womb of the Vineyard, sometimes it was easier to live in the city, where she could walk the streets, go shopping, or have fun, all while remaining anonymous.Where I can get lost in the crowd, she thought.
Then Winnie’s sister-in-law appeared; she was holding one of Winnie’s large, beautiful bowls and said a customer wanted to talk with her about it. So Annie’s visit was cut short, but it was okay. She’d heard enough on the subject of Simon Anderson to help her carry on. So she thanked Winnie, got another hug, then headed toward the parking lot.
It wasn’t until the light breeze caught the fringe of the shawl with the ribbon-like beach grass and lifted it into the sunlight that Annie noticed Abigail leaning against the Jeep, smoking a cigarette. By then Abigail was staring at her, so there was no chance for Annie to hide like a child. Again.
As Annie’s thoughts quickly shuffled, rearranging themselves, it was Abigail who spoke first.
“He’s going back to her, you know.”
At first, Annie did not understand. Then she remembered an acting class she’d once taken that taught her how to get inside the head of a fictional character. “Learn to sense when another person wants to hurt you,” the instructor had said. “You can see it in the eyes.” Annie saw that look now in Abigail’s glare.
“Nothing you will say or do is going to stop my dad from going back to my mom.” She took a long drag, exhaled a slow stream of smoke, and ground the cigarette out in the dirt. Then she slid the shawl from her shoulders and sauntered away, twirling the billowing fabric in the air. And Annie was left standing, feeling as if she’d gazed into Medusa’s eyes and had turned to stone, which no doubt was the effect that John’s daughter had intended.
* * *
On the way back to Chappy, Annie tried to dismiss Abigail’s ominous message—whether or not it was true. Her head already hurt from too much on her mind and from the bright sunshine that might be good news for the Ag Fair folks but often triggered a migraine for her. She tugged her visor down, adjusted her sunglasses, and concentrated on how to navigate the traffic without losing her mind.
Being on the cusp of a migraine, however, reminded Annie that Meghan still suffered from her injuries. If only there had been time to tell Winnie about her. Annie trusted Winnie implicitly; she would have liked to ask her for advice on what to do, or not do, about Kevin—like if she should go against Meghan’s wishes and call him and tell him what was really going on.
Then again, this was about Kevin, and he was Annie’s brother. Maybe she should try and figure it out herself. Later. After she’d rested.
But as hard as she tried, she could not shake Abigail’s words. Nor could she shake Winnie’s advice: “. . . talk to Simon. See if he knows who’s behind it.”
Simon, however, did not have a motive to be malicious to her. Unlike Abigail did.
She wished her thoughts didn’t keep leaping back to Lucy’s “impossible” sister—a clearly distressed girl who would know how to spray the word all over the island. Abigail hadn’t succeeded in breaking up her mother’s new relationship, so perhaps she’d decided to try and wreck her father’s. But wouldn’t she have cared that posting it online would humiliate him?
