My heart drops to my stomach. I snatch the two from her hands.
“See the ‘g’ here and here? And the ‘t’?” She points between the two.
I feel a lump rise in my throat and I walk to my room, reaching for the few notes left on my bed. The one from when I arrived this summer and a few others. I hold them out.
“We probably shouldn’t touch them.” She looks around. “We probably shouldn’t touch anything.”
“What? Why?” I know why. He’s been in the trailer.
“Summer, we have to call the police.” She hands me my phone off the table. It’s sitting right next to the flower. “Do you want me to call your mom?”
“No, not yet.” My mind is reeling. Pete. Pete is the one that gave me the flowers. He’s the one that has a key. Is he also sending those letters? No. I refuse to believe that.
“I don’t want to call yet.”
“What?”
“Let’s wait this out until after the party, okay? My mom doesn’t need all this. The press will be there—all her fans. It’s like victimizing her all over again.”
“It seems like a risk not to do something.”
“You told your editor. Mom told her agent about the other letters. We’re aware and we’ve got a bunch of friends and family coming tonight. Nothing’s going to happen,” I plead with her. “I’ll call tomorrow, promise.”
She sighs. “Okay, but don’t stay here alone tonight.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Get your stuff and you can change somewhere else.” She frowns. “And hurry. I don’t want to be in here any longer than necessary.”
I look around my little camper—the one I’ve grown to love, the one that’s my home, and shiver, for the first time not wanting to be here, either.
21
Summer
After showering and changing at Richard’s under the guise of helping my mother get ready, Nick picks me up.
“You look nice,” he says, gesturing to my sundress. It’s blue—the color that Jessica helped me realize suits my skin tone. It brings out my tan and the blue in my eyes. Nick leans across the truck cab and kisses me gently on the lips.
“You look good, too.” He’s dressed up a little in jeans and a button-down. He’s wearing a jacket despite the heat. “Nervous?”
“A little. I’ve never shown my photography before.”
“People love them—the reviewers and critics all said so.”
“I know.” He backs out of the driveway, arm slung over the back of the seat. “I guess it’s different hearing what people say to your face.”
Although I want to break down and tell him everything about the postcards and the flowers at my house, I don’t. He’d tell the others and Justin would freak out and tell Richard and the whole thing would spiral. Tomorrow. I’ll tell them everything tomorrow. After the party.
Anita is waiting for us inside the shop, looking tired but excited. Nick goes to arrange the last few of his photographs. She tells me that the caterer unloaded the food and drinks into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” Anita says when she sees me. I plaster a smile on my face.
“Just excited, I guess. Do you think we have everything?”
“Definitely.” She holds up her master list. Each word is crossed out. “We’ll put the food on those extra tables Bobby set up this morning. I have tablecloths and the florist should be delivering flowers any time now.”
“Great.” I look her over and there’s no mistaking the faint dark shadows under her eyes and the way she’s holding her belly. “Are you okay? Did you sleep in?”