What she’d asked herself today was whether either man was right for her. It was easy to say that her mother had forced her into marrying Eddie. And it was easy to blame her mother-in-law for all the misery in her marriage, but what part had Faith played in it all? She liked to think of herself as an innocent bystander, but she hadn’t been.
By the time she got back to the summerhouse, she was glad to see that the lights were off. She was afraid that Amy and Zoë would be up with a bottle of wine and wanting to spend the night talking.
Instead, there was a note from Amy on the breakfast table saying that she and Zoë had gone to bed, hope she didn’t mind.
“Ready?” Madame Zoya asked Faith and Zoë the next afternoon.
“Yes,” Faith said. Her hand was on the seed capsules in her pocket, and she’d given Madame Zoya three capsules. It was the least she could do.
“I’ll see you two tomorrow,” Amy said when they left the house. “I’ll make us a nice dinner and you’ll tell me everything that happened in your new lives.”
All morning they’d talked about the idea that if they went years back into their pasts then when they returned their entire lives would be different. Amy said that if Faith went back and married Tyler, then lived a new life, maybe when she returned she’d have children at home waiting for her.
Faith hadn’t replied because she had some other ideas about what she’d like to do with her life.
As for Zoë, she made it clear she didn’t have much hope. She said she’d run away from her hometown and avoid the car crash, but then what? Whatever she’d done would still be there. “And Russell wouldn’t be,” she said.
Amy didn’t say anything. She’d been so tired yesterday that she’d slept all afternoon and through the night. For the first time in weeks she’d been able to relax because Tristan was safe. As far as she could tell, saving him hadn’t changed her life at all. She’d called home, listened to the same message in Stephen’s voice saying that Amy and their two sons were out, please leave a message. It was all exactly the same now, but today she hoped to search the Internet to find that Tristan or his descendants had done something great.
Whatever she found out, she was determined to be cheerful and not let Faith and Zoë see her true feelings.
“And when we return, you can tell us about Tristan,” Faith said.
“I will,” Amy said, but she had volunteered no other information. She closed the door behind them.
“Is it me or do you think that under her fake cheeriness she looked disappointed?” Zoë asked.
“I think she has to be going through a bad time. She was in love with Tristan and she had to leave him. That must have hurt.”
“What I want to know is what the two of them did those last two days. I know you were in bed with William. I just hope you didn’t kill him.”
“He managed to live,” Faith said dryly. She was glad to see that Zoë hadn’t put on her dark makeup again. Now she looked like a pretty young woman who wanted to live.
“And I—” Zoë looked into the distance.
“Zoë,” Faith said as she put her hand on her arm.
“I’m okay,” Zoë said. “Really I am. I spent some time on the Internet last night.”
“And?”
“Let’s just say that I memorized some things too.”
“What does that mean?” Faith asked.
“I’ll tell you later—if it works out, that is,” Zoë said. “So tell me, was William good in bed? As good as Tyler?”
“Different,” Faith said, smiling. “All three of my men were different from one another.”
“You’re the one who’s different,” Zoë said. “I wouldn’t recognize you from the woman I first met here.”
“Really?” Faith said. “And what about you? Did they run out of industrial-strength eyeliner?”
They had reached the road to Madame Zoya’s house. Zoë turned down it and started walking backward. “Since my portrait is hanging in the Louvre, I thought I ought to have a face that matches it.”
Faith stopped walking and stared at her. “Zoë! Is that true?”
Zoë just shrugged, laughed, and raced ahead to Madame Zoya’s house.