“Fine,” I told him. “You win, Milo. Then again, you always win. I’ll drive myself, and give you a ride into Finley, too, okay? I’ll send Sebastian a message that I’ll meet up with him later. Does that work?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, vaguely relieved. “Yeah, that works. Thanks.”
I texted Sebastian the change in plans, but of course Milo’s comment was now stuck like gum to the back of my brain. Did Sebastian see me as some party girl? Not from a privileged Bly background, and therefore less high-maintenance, more “fun”?
If there was a sliver of chance that Milo was right—that Sebastian thought I was looking for some no-strings summer hookup—it would definitely be better to have my own car. But I really hoped it wasn’t true. I needed a friend tonight, and I was extremely hopeful that I had one in Sebastian.
And on my way out, a new obstacle. Connie was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. She looked even more sourpuss than usual.
“Thanks again for watching Isa tonight,” I said, by way of truce, though I hadn’t thanked her a first time. “I’ll be home by midnight, if not before.” Her expression bridled me. “What? Is something wrong?”
“You took Itha to Pendleton. One of the doctorth there recognithed her and called Dr. Hugh.”
I reddened. Busted. “It was such a beautiful day,” I said. “Isa needed the change. She told me she wanted to go.”
“Itha wanted to go? No, I don’t think that’th the truth. In fact, I know very different. And another thing I know ith that, for whatever ungodly reathon, you”—and now Connie’s finger crooked on me like a mini meat hook—“you, Jamie Atkinthon, are obthethed with Peter Quint, and you’re dragging everyone down into thith thinkhole with you. You had no right to lie. You had no right to take Itha to Pendleton.”
“I said I was sorry. And she was never, ever in danger.”
“That’th not the point.” Connie stepped nearer. Her face was so close that I could see liver spots like fungus on her flesh, and the one rogue nose hair that I wanted to reach out and tweeze. “I’d have never, ever taken that child off Bly without her father’th permithion.” A tiny dot of her saliva landed on my cheek.
“Well, I’m not you, Connie.”
“You think I’m blind. But I watch. And I will thay it now—there might very well be thomething wrong with you, Jamie. Deeply wrong. Becauth dethpite your attention to Itha, and your kindneth to her—I’ll give you that—it’th clear beyond doubt that you are unfit to care properly for that child.”
I grimaced as I stepped away. The accusation was low and unfair. So maybe Pendleton hadn’t been my best judgment call, but my care for Isa was almost always impeccable.
Connie was jealous that Isa liked me so much better.
“Let’s talk about this when I get back,” I said. “I’m sorry you’re upset that I drove Isa off the island. I don’t think it’s done her any permanent damage. It was a pretty day, we had a nice lunch, and—”
“Enough!” Connie put her hands over her ears and actually stamped her foot. “You quit that talk! I’ve got a call out to the Mithter! I’m taking thtepth! You’re not to go anywhere near Itha! Do you underthtand? Do you hear me? Do you?”
“Of course I hear—I’m not deaf!” But her sudden temper had thrown me, and I would have bet anything that Isa was listening from upstairs in her room. My body was shaking as I brushed past Connie to the kitchen and swiped the car keys off the hook.
“Frankly, I’m glad to be getting a break from you,” I called out. “And I’ll be notifying Miles McRae myself about this conversation. You think there might be something wrong with me, but I know there’s something wrong with you.”
It undercut my bold words that I was speaking to the closed door between the pantry and foyer, but I was glad not to have to look at Connie. Was she serious, demanding that I not go near Isa? As in, a restraining order? Because of one stupid trip? What a wildly inappropriate overreaction. And she had the nerve to say I’d lost my sense of judgment? What a joke.
She might be only bluffing about getting in touch with McRae. But I wasn’t. It was still too early to phone Hong Kong, but he’d be hearing from me later tonight. I’d be crystal clear, and I wouldn’t mince words. Isa’s dad needed to know about the real monsters in this house.
My entire body was buzzing from the confrontation. I left through the kitchen, backed the car out of the garage and blasted the sound system as I waited for Milo out front.
Take that, Funsicle.
TWENTY-FIVE
Twilight was precarious. Nothing but blind spots. I squinted. The road seemed extra twisty tonight.
“Watch it!” Milo shouted, covering my hand with his and swerving the steering wheel so that we nearly gutter-bumped. “You’re all over the place.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “But it was your idea to put me behind the wheel, remember?”
He didn’t answer, but he bolted from the car the minute I’d nosed it and then parked it cautiously among the caravan of vehicles lined up along the turnoff to the beach. I watched as he strode far ahead, ignoring my calls, and before long I’d lost complete sight of him in the thick of strolling families.
Humidity was curling up my hair and turning my skin clammy beneath my striped hoodie dress. Bad outfit choice. Heavy where it lay against my arms and back, but so short that too much of my legs were left exposed and defenseless against the cold ocean breeze.
My eyes hunted Sebastian. I was frantic to see him. Also, he hadn’t answered my text. Probably meant nothing. Still. I walked to the boardwalk and bought a funnel cake. Then I took a seat at a beachside table, where I had a good view for watching the band set up their equipment and speakers as the sun went down.
I checked my voice mail, rechecked texts, and then my voice mail again. Nope.
Aidan and Lizbeth were standing out in the surf, talking with some kids I didn’t know. Lizbeth’s hair was coppery in the reflected tiki torches that spiked the dunes. A ways apart, Emory and Noogie had snapped out a quilt. Staking a four-cornered claim that was equidistant from boardwalk, ocean and stage.
I signaled and shouted to the girls, then plunged like a kite through the crowd. On sight of me, a look passed between them. A not-entirely-positive look. Beyond that, it was hard to interpret it.