Lara flashed one of her ultra-white grins my way. ‘Maybe she meant between pastries. Speaking of …’
She reached for the box of baked goods, running a thumbnail along its edge to dislodge the branded sticker seal and pulling out a pumpkin-spice cornetto. She took a bite before continuing.
‘We’ve always been obsessed with the Tucker boys thing,’ she said. ‘It’s just that you’ve finally figured out that you’re part of it.’
‘Part of what?’ I asked, warily.
‘A love triangle!’ Lara cackled as thoughshewere the witch and not me.
I shook my head vehemently. No, absolutely not. A love triangle was my least favourite of all the romance tropes. Normal people didn’t get themselves caught up in love triangles! They were awkward, and confusing, and someone always got hurt. Lara had made a game of collecting hearts, but that wasn’t my thing. I’d rather not participate at all.
Just then, a whisperwind came racing over my shoulder:I hate her lasagne.But she thinks I love it, and that makes her happy, so I keep asking for seconds.
Lara giggled – she’d heard it as well. Part of the joy of the whisperwinds was that you didn’t need magic to hear them. They were for everyone.
‘I wonder what the most damning whisperwind anyone has ever spoken is,’ she mused. ‘Do you think there have been any admissions of murder? I think I’d be good at solving a murder.’
‘I bet you would,’ I said, grateful for the topic change. ‘Or getting away with one.’
‘You’re right. You mock my dating history, but I bet they’d all give me an alibi if I asked. And Finn would cover for you, no question.’
‘Finn, huh?’
‘He’s the morally grey one. That’s what makes him so fun.’
‘Not Noah?’
Lara shook her head. ‘He’s too by the book. He’d turn you in even though it would destroy him. And then he’d hole himself up in his studio painting portraits of you until you got out of prison.’
‘How romantic,’ I said drily. ‘You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?’
‘At length. Imagine the reunion. Noah would be a silver fox by then. I bet the sex would be amazing. All that pent-up tension …’
‘Lara!’ I pretended to be mortally offended by this instead of intrigued.
With Lara continuing to offer increasingly debauched scenarios involving passion and murder, the two of us laughingly picked our way along the loose sand at the top of the beach, enjoying the combination of the steady morning sun and the crisp breeze that reminded us that fall was nipping at our heels. Gulls wheeled overhead, and fish leapt from the water, silver tails arcing. Healthy types were already out and about, jogging, doing yoga, throwing sticks for happy dogs. A group of kids gathered shells in macramé bags, trailed by parents wearing sunglasses and sipping early-morning mimosas.
‘The Heart Tree clearing!’ I exclaimed as we arrived at our favourite spot on the beach, a dune ringed by seagrass and overhung by a twisted tree. Dozens of initials were carved into the tree, some scarred into the bark decades ago, others more recent.
As always, I touched the set of initials that fascinated memost: the letters ‘JL’ etched within the top half of a wonky heart. In the bottom part of the heart was a scratched-out section that might have once been initials, or might never have been anything at all.
Lara, Tiff and I had all made our guesses about the heart over the years. Lara believed it was an empowering demonstration of self-love, and that J.Lo had carved them there between marriages. Tiff thought that a jealous new lover had covered up the initials of JL’s first one. To me it had always seemed unfinished, like JL had changed their mind mid-carving.
‘How do you think J.Lo is doing these days?’ Lara asked as she settled down on the sandy, grassy embankment. As sand-in-your-bits seats went, this one wasn’t too bad. It was better than most of the beach, anyway.
‘Only J.Lo knows J.Lo’s heart,’ I said wistfully, setting the zinnias down gently so that they wouldn’t bruise. I opened Lorraine’s pastry box, considering the various pastries until Lara passed me an eggnog-crème doughnut.
I took a bite and moaned in delight.
‘That’s almost offensively good,’ I said, handing Lara what was left of the doughnut. Good thing I hadn’t gone with just the apple tart, or I would’ve missed out.
Lara polished off the doughnut, then attacked the tiramisu with a fork. ‘Wow, I just saw stars. Did Lorraine put all of last night’s leftover booze in this?’
‘Thank you, Lorraine,’ I said reverently, casting witchy hands to the sky.
‘So, Jack’s visiting from Washington,’ said Lara finally.
‘State, or D.C.?’
