“I took the photo,” Bill announced after they regrouped. “At Illumination Night.”
Annie’s flicked her gaze to John then back to Bill. “Why?”
“Look,” he said, “Simon and I talked last night. I know he finally told you the truth about the accident. He didn’t tell you the truth about me, though. I’m not his loyal assistant. We’ve been friends since grad school. He called me the night your husband was killed. I know the guilt he’s carried all these years. So does his wife. When he told us he’d found out where you were, he asked me to come with him for backup. Moral support. Whatever you want to call it. It was my idea to come incognito as his major domo. Anyway, once we got here, I could tell by the way he was acting stupid-nasty that he was getting cold feet. Stupid-nasty isn’t who Simon is.”
By then, Annie’s mouth was dry. She was glad to feel John’s hand resting on the small of her back.
“I called his wife—her name’s Tracy, by the way. We decided I should do something drastic to make him face the music. Or at least to make him have to face you. I told her I’d be on the lookout; then I saw my chance at Illumination Night. I’m really sorry for the nightmare it caused.”
“The people you hitched a ride with said you didn’t have a fancy camera,” Annie said, as if that mattered now.
Bill laughed. “I’m not a cameraman. I’m in advertising. One of those guys who still wears suits and works on Madison Avenue. I had my iPhone, though. Those little buggers take great shots.”
So that was why the two men hadn’t been laden with camera gear that night.
“How’d you know,” John interrupted, “about VineyardInsiders?”
“The day we got here, Simon went to the library; I visited a few pubs, pretending to be fascinated by the island. It’s amazing what you can learn when you belly up to a bar, order a beer, and be friendly.”
“And you put it in theTimes?” Annie asked.
“Not me. That was Tracy’s doing. She figured if Simon had more exposure it would make him nervous and shock him into telling you what he’d come to tell you before you—or the tabloids—started prying into his past, digging around for any kind of other ‘indiscretions.’ She wanted me to apologize to you, though. And to say she’d always known that if she’d been in your shoes, she would have wanted to know what really happened back then.”
“For which you may thank her for me.” She closed her eyes. “I think my editor would like to thank her, too.”
Then Jonas came around the corner with Bella, and John asked if he’d mind taking care of Restless, too, so they could get to the hospital.
Jonas said he’d be happy to. He really was a nice young man, as Ginny had said. And Annie had a feeling that Francine would agree he was a keeper.
After thanking Bill again, Annie left the Inn in Jonas’s capable hands. Then she and John got into his truck and buckled up, and Annie was catapulted back to the present, back to reality, back to Kevin, who was the one who mattered now.
On the way, she explained the latest Kevin-Meghan-Taylor development; John sat very still as he took in every word.
* * *
Kevin had been moved out of ICU and into a regular room, which was good, because he was allowed more than a single visitor for more than a few minutes. When Annie and John arrived, those visitors included Earl, Claire, Lucy, and Francine, who didn’t mention that she’d taken Meghan to the boat. Taylor was there, too, sitting close to Kevin’s bed. His eyes kept drifting over to her, his mouth set in a soft smile. He looked happy, which counted for . . . everything. And though there might have been too many people in the room, it made for a nice family portrait of sorts.
Even more surprising was that Simon was there. He’d brought a bucket of flowers that he’d picked in the meadow. Annie smiled at him and nodded.
“I have muffins for everyone,” she said, setting them on a table. “Enjoy.”
“Not for me,” Francine said, patting her small belly. “I’m on a diet.”
Earl laughed. “You’re the last person who needs to be on one of those.”
“Oh, hush,” Claire said. “Leave the girl alone. She wants to eat healthy now.”
Annie frowned, then looked back at Francine. “You’re such a great cook. You already eat healthy, don’t you?”
Francine shrugged. “I want to do better now. Because I’m eating for two.”
It was another of those old clichés that Annie loved. And this time, it was the best of all.
Exclamations filled the room, followed by joy, tears, and a smattering of applause. Claire started chattering about knitting baby things; Lucy offered to babysit; Earl said he hoped it was a boy because, no offense, but it was beginning to feel like there were an awful lot of females on Chappaquiddick.
“Hello?” Kevin interrupted. “May the patient say a word?”
Everyone shut up.
