"Come on, sweetheart." he says to her, putting his arm out for her to take.
She glances between me and William. Then she takes Adrian's arm and they move into the crowd together.
Then it's just me and William. Good, because we need to have a serious conversation.
"Carter, don’t even start. I know what you are going to say" William gets ahead of the conversation.
"Yeah, and what is it?"
"There is no hidden agenda. No evil plan. I genuinely—” He stops. Starts differently. "I can't explain it. There's this pull towards her—"
I look at him. I understand what he is saying. I feel it too.
“The last time we were here together you were planning ways to get your revenge on her.” I take a moment to force calm into my voice “You are my best friend. I owe you my life”
He makes a sound of dismissal and I cut through it. "We both have gone to hell and come out stronger. We built something together. You are my brother. But I will not let you hurt her. She doesn’t deserve it."
He doesn't blink. He doesn't look away. "I will never hurt her."
I hold his gaze. I can see that he is being sincere.
I nod once and say, "Let's go get our girl."
33
SIENNA
The wheelbarrow is heavier on the second trip. Mulch holds water and the irrigation ran this morning, which means the last load is the worst one. I've been telling myself it's the last one since the second-to-last one.
This one actually is.
I tip it forward at the base of the bird of paradise hedge and spread it with the rake until it sits flush. Step back. The late afternoon light coming through the canyon is turning everything gold. It catches the retaining wall tiles on the property below, the pale stone of the terrace edge, the dust on the road.
I look at the full run of planting beds going down the east terrace. Three weeks ago this was compacted dirt and overgrown oleander. Now you are starting to see what will be.
I pull off the left glove first. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. My hair is half out of its braid. There's a streak of dark mulch across the front of my shirt. My lower back has been making itself noticed.
I pull off the other glove. Press my palms together once, feel the raw spot forming at the base of my right thumb where the rake handle sits.
This is a good house. The daughter of one of the residents at Leonor's nursing home called three months after I finished the sensory garden there. Said her mother hadn't stopped talking about me. That's how work comes. Not through ads.
I start loading tools. Spade first, then trowels, then the pruning shears still gritty with dried bark from the canopy work on the south wall. I load them slowly, my arms tired in a way that sits in the muscles rather than on the surface.
I think about Carter, William and Adrian. After the party at Vanta and the conversation we all had, I haven’t seen any of them. It has been 2 days.
William and Carter needed to go to New York the morning after.
Carter texted from JFK:Raining here. Meetings start at seven tomorrow morning.Two sentences. Very Carter.
William sent a photo later that night. Just the view from the hotel window, grey sky and towers, no caption.
Then nothing until yesterday afternoon, when he and Carter found a street cart somewhere in midtown. The photo came in at four-thirty. Both of them standing on the sidewalk holding hot dogs. Carter has his sunglasses on and is almost smiling. William is looking at the camera with an annoyed expression.
And just like that I know Carter forced him both to the hot dog and to take the picture. The caption said:When in New York.
I saved it.
Adrian has been in Los Angeles but harder to reach. Brief texts, longer gaps. When I asked if everything was okay I got one suspiciously mysterious text.Fine. Just busy.
