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“I’m Cam, but you’ve probably figured that out by now,” she said as she gingerly got seated next to her. “And I’m really, really glad you’re safe.”

“Yeah” was Paige’s only response.

The ride back to Silver Cove was silent, and while Cam couldn’t read Ian’s thoughts, she could only imagine the stew of emotions he was feeling: anger, of course, and fear, and probably that awful residual restlessness that came in the aftermath of an adrenaline surge. And dread, probably, for what would come next, how he would have to deal with not just the awful thing that had happened to his daughter but whatever it was that had driven her to do something so risky in the first place. He was probably even blaming himself. Strong people often did that—felt like they could have done something different to prevent someone else’s pain and bad decisions. Just like Birdie had after Flora died.

Paige pulled the hood of her coat over her pink-streaked hair and lost herself in her phone, apparently playing a video game. Cam felt a wash of sympathy for her. While she certainly had never pulled a stunt like that as a teenager, she could empathize with Paige’s desire to be somewhere other than where your parent wanted you to be. There were times when she had fantasized about escaping whatever apartment Flora had rented for them in whatever strange, anonymous city.

Cam was relieved when they finally pulled up at Birdie’s house and said good night. As mixed-up as Ian surely was, Cam felt absolutely certain of herself as she approached the house, the chilly wind whipping her stupidly curled hair.

This evening had been a huge mistake. A colossal one. Cam had let herself think, just for a minute, that letting her guard down wouldn’t end in disaster. That she could be close to someone with as complicated a life as Ian’s. The thought of that kiss briefly wiggled into her mind, but Cam instantly put it away, mentally locking it in a box where it belonged, just as easily as putting a bottle back in her alphabetically arranged spice drawer and closing it tight. However toe-curling and head-spinning that moment had been, it didn’t matter.

It was obvious that she had messed up, and she vowed that she wouldn’t do it again.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ADA

There’s something else in this brand-new future that I wish I’d had in my all-too-brief life: margaritas! But I digress, which is one of my best skills, really.

I am pleased to report that I seem to be making some small progress on my mission here in the land of the living. It was lovely to have more company the night of Cam’s little party, and truly, I wished I could have sat among those women and sipped one of those delightful-looking cocktails, which I took to be something like a gimlet. And I was able to talk to the girls a bit, though I wasn’t able to impart everything I have to say, which is quite frustrating, especially for someone who spent much of her life saying exactly what was on her mind—a trait that earned me no end of trouble with Mother and Father and about a thousand and one disapproving looks from Marshall, which only egged me on, really. Also, in the category of exciting news, I am now able to wander farther and farther away from my cookbook, although annoyingly, I can only do so when Cam is around. Which means I’m still quite bound to this girl, for better or for worse.

Speaking of which, I’m starting to despair about Cam again. She finally went on a proper outing with that gentleman, and I’d like to think I had some hand in that as I kept practically shouting in her ear to do it.

But their date seemed to have gone quite awry and she’s sworn him off for some absurd reason. If I had a chance with a dashing young man who might just be the love of my life, I’d take it in a heartbeat, which of course I don’t have at the moment. At the risk of sounding like an old crone, I think life might just be wasted on the living!

CHAPTER TWENTY

How did the date go?” Birdie asked Cam as she was washing her used coffee mug in the kitchen sink and wishing she could scrub away the memory of the previous night with a sponge and soap.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like talking about it, Birdie,” she answered, reaching for a towel. She had told Avery everything the night before, but she wasn’t in the mood for another miserable rehash. “Maybe later. Suffice it to say it won’t be happening again.”

Cam retreated upstairs to grab her things to take to the cafe for a day’s work, avoiding Birdie’s concerned eyes. All she wanted was to cook—the one thing that could take her mind off any distraction.

“Cam?” Birdie called up the stairs.

She pitched a pencil into her tote bag and met Birdie halfway down the stairs. Cam really wasn’t looking for more of Birdie’s advice on letting things unfold and taking chances—because look how well that had worked out.

Instead, her grandmother addressed her in a hushed tone. “There’s someone here to see you,” Birdie said. “She wouldn’t give her name. Whoever she is, I’ll give the two of you space to talk. And I put a kettle on so you can offer her tea.”

Birdie passed her and ascended the steps, headed for her bedroom, and Cam was left to greet the mystery visitor on her own. She shifted the bag on her shoulder and sighed.

In the kitchen, Cam regarded the woman, who wore a shapeless black coat and a beanie cap pulled low, accessorized with a comically large pair of dark sunglasses, even though she was inside and the dim sunlight outside hardly warranted it. There was something very familiar about her high cheekbones. Her hair was tucked underneath the hat, but Cam noticed a single white-blond tress poking out.

No, she thought. It couldn’t be. And yet…

Holy shit, Izzy Jones was in Silver Cove. At Birdie’s house.

Cam tried to process this unwieldy realization, which felt like a coin that wouldn’t fit into a slot, and instantly she was filled with dread. She was probably being fired from the cookbook job. And there was no way she’d be able to afford the renovations to Birdie’s house now. At least it was nice of Izzy to show up to do it in person, Cam thought angrily.

“Cammmmie!” Izzy greeted her, throwing her arms around her.

Cam finally extricated herself from the actress’s hug. “Hey, Izzy,” she managed to get out. “What are you doing… here?”

“Shhhhhhhhh.” Izzy shushed her dramatically, adjusting her cap so that it met the top of the bug-eye shades. “I’m incognito,” she said in a stage whisper. “No one can know I’m here. I do this sometimes. I even have a prosthetic nose that was made for me that I can wear to be disguised. I totally went to a Beyoncé show last summer, and no one knew.”

Sure, Cam thought. The only reason no one would recognize one of the planet’s most famous actresses here in Silver Cove wasn’t because of some ridiculous getup, but because no one had any reason to think that the fabulous Izzy Jones would turn up in Nowheresville.

“There’s no one here, Izzy,” Cam reassured her. “That was my grandmother who let you in, and I assure you, she wouldn’t know you from Beyoncé.”