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“Sounds like the makings of a thief to me.”

“So we pivot from Greta?” Carter asked. “It’s not like Eli’s finding anything on her anyway.”

Eli glowered at this. “I’ll find her.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Jack, who doubted it. “But Formerly Rich Ian seems like our guy anyway. Now we just need to see if we’re right. Think you can get us a home address?”

“Already looking,” said Eli, his pizza now long forgotten.

Dale sat up on the couch, eyes glistening. “How are you gonna get in, Jackie?”

Jack had already asked himself that question, and he was decidedly less than thrilled by the answer that rolled to the top of his mind like the cobalt triangle in a Magic 8 Ball. He looked to the empty chair beside Carter across the table, an overabundance of bread and cheese churning in a stomach better suited to prunes. This, much like his first attempt at putting on control-top pantyhose, was not going to be pretty.

29

The next day crept in on tiptoes, the late-morning sun caressing Jack awake through the crack between the dusty rose curtains of Margaret’s bedroom. No alarm screaming at him meant it was the weekend, which hopefully also meant the You Agains would have the free time to make some more progress on everything they’d put into motion the night before.

Jack rolled over and unwrapped the floral duvet from where it wound around his torso, freeing an arm to blindly search the bedside table for his phone. Greer’s name lit up the screen, indicating a missed alert. She would just be responding to his text. His mind knew this, but he’d forgotten to inform his heart of the utilitarian nature of the message and it gave a merry skip despite his best efforts to notify it now.

GREER: Can meet at noon. Billy’s?

Now Jack was fighting his lips as well as his heart and was losing on both fronts. He felt a smile tug the lower half of his face upward against his will. He’d received this exact text so many times before. High school consisted of four straight years of this text with some classes scattered in between.

For the first time since he’d become Margaret, nothing in her closet seemed fit for the occasion. She had sectioned the walk-in into clothes for every conceivable scenario: work, formal wear, semiformal wear, spa days, exercise, brunch. And yet there was no section for meeting Greer at Billy’s, nothing that said, “I’m a cool guy who’s going to save your child and win your heart,” and that felt like a real oversight. In his old body, Jack would be tossing on his best blue jeans, maybe a clean white T-shirt under a plaid button-up. He’d probably change a time or two. Greer liked him in blue; she’d let that slip once when they both had to get dressed up for Dale’s mom’s second wedding and he borrowed his uncle’s navy suit. He’d taken her words to heart, thrifting an ocean of garments in the years since. But his new shell didn’t quite lend itself to the easy, casual style he’d once worn.

Eventually Jack settled on a pair of well-tailored tan capris and a ruffled teal blouse that made him feel like a pirate. It was as close as Margaret had to “casual” in her wardrobe and, with any luck, Greer still liked him in blue despite the physical changes. She was already waiting in their usual booth when he arrived at Billy’s, a half-eaten muffin on the plate in front of her and a faraway glaze shimmering over her hazel eyes. Jack slid across from her and Greer blinked herself back into the booth.

“Eli said you have a new target,” she said in place of greeting.

Jack gave a nod. No chitchat, then. He adjusted his blouse ruffles. “Do you remember Rich Ian from high school?”

“Barely,” said Greer. Which Jack decided was fair. Ian was two years younger than Greer, though after failing a few classes, he had to repeat ninth grade, putting him in the same year as Jack and the others. Although Ian and Greer had only been in high school together for two short semesters, that didn’t stop a crush from developing, and the next year, when Ian found out Eli was Greer’s brother, he’d tried weaseling his way into the You Agains to get closer to her. Thankfully Eli had put a stop to this before Jack had to, and Ian had no choice but to move on. Of course, that was all decades ago, but you didn’t just get over a girl like Greer. Jack knew that better than anyone.

“Turns out he’s my boss’s boss now,” Jack continued.

Greer cocked a brow. “Small world,” she said. “And you think he’s the thief?”

“Could be,” said Jack. He gave the abridged version of Ian’s descent from the nickname of his youth as Greer finished her muffin.

“So what’s the plan?” She dabbed at the remaining crumbs on her plate and nibbled them off her finger.

Jack’s leg gave a nervous bounce, but he held her gaze. A few short days ago, he’d thought posing as Greer’s mother would be the most uncomfortable moment of his life. He had been so young then, so naïve.

“Remember Operation Sports Banquet?”

The way Greer’s face dropped suggested she very much did.

“Absolutely not,” she said.

“We need to get into his house to look for the list.”

“Okay, and we can’t just break in because…?”

Jack had to smile at that. There was a time when a harmless little break-and-enter would require some proper arm-twisting to get Greer on board. In the years since she’d run off and started a family, Jack was half-convinced she’d have reverted back. But here she was, more keen to break the law than he was.

“The guy grew up in a casino. Odds are good he has some kind of home security.” Technology had gone too far for Jack’s tastes. Everyone had a video doorbell these days, which was very inconvenient for his former way of life. It was, he supposed, one of the few benefits of the steady nine-to-five he now found himself in.

Greer stared hard at Jack. Jack stared hard at Greer. Her gaze may have weighed a ton, but he’d spent years training to lift it. He wasn’t backing down that easily.