“Why should they blame you? You’re just as much a victim here as anyone else.”
“You’re right.” She squares back her shoulders. “In some ways, I’m probably his biggest victim. This is all Betty Jean’s fault. She’s the one who brought him to town. She should have done a better job of vetting him. First, he conned me into throwing him that huge party at Daddy’s and then he conned the city out of a free beach house. I’ll probably have to testify against him in court. Don’t you think? I might even be the prosecution’s star witness.” She reaches out and grabs me in a hug. “I knew I was right to come to you with this! Thank you, Lucy! I feel so much better.”
Now that this crisis is taken care of, Brittany can focus on more important things. She reads the slogan on my T-shirt and tsks. “At least you didn’t wear that last night. You were playing with me, weren’t you? When you sent me that horrible picture of you in the miniskirt?”
Travis didn’t think it was so horrible.
“I hope you learned your lesson. No fashion advice. Unless I ask for it.”
She makes an X over her chest. “Promise.” Her eyes go sparkly. “But if I was to give you some fashion advice, I would tell you to wear exactly what you wore last night, down to the last little detail. You looked wonderful! Travis couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
I get all twitchy. “That’s probably because I had food in my hand most of the night.”
“Don’t do that,” she says.
“Do what?”
“Put yourself down. He likes you, Lucy. A lot. And you like him too. Everyone could see that. Even Will noticed it, and you know how clueless men are about that kind of stuff.”
I still. “He did?”
“Oh, yeah. He said that Travis better watch out because if he made a move on you, he’d be there to straighten him out. I was so jealous! I think it’s cute how Will feels so protective of you. Like a big brother.”
I feel horrible. I have to tell Brittany what’s really going on between me and Will, but now isn’t the time. I just hope she doesn’t hate me when she finds out the truth.
Funny, a few months ago, I wouldn’t have cared how Brittany felt about me. But now … Will is still my best friend, but Brittany has somehow managed to become my best girlfriend, and the thought of losing her friendship makes my stomach queasy.
“What do I do now?” Brittany asks. “About tonight?”
“Like I said, just act normal. You’re supposed to go to the book club meeting, right? So show up at seven like everyone else and play along.”
“Play along,” she repeats intently. “Got it.” She gives me another hug for good measure before taking off in her car.
I look down at Paco. “We’re in a bit of a mess, aren’t we? With this whole Travis, Will and Brittany thing?”
He makes a face that says, I told you so.
“You did not tell me so.”
He barks and wags his tail in response.
This is insane. I think I’m having a conversation with my dog.
Brittany isn’t the only one who needs a reality check.
I make one more attempt to get in touch with Will, but he’s still not answering his phone, and he’s not at home either. He hasn’t changed his mind, has he?
No. Of course not. Will is coming to the book club meeting tonight to straighten out this mess. I know he is.
It’s only five thirty, so I’m early, but it doesn’t hurt to get a jump start. Since there will be lots of people attending tonight, which means lots of cars, I park my VW bug around the corner so that I don’t take up a premium parking space that someone else might need. Between Paco and the muffins, I’ll have to make two trips, but that’s okay because it’s a crisp, cool afternoon. No sweating from the car to the door today for anyone. I’m not sure what Betty Jean will make of me bringing Paco along to the meeting, but tough. If I’m forced to be the help tonight, then I’m bringing my dog.
I clip the leash to Paco’s collar and pull a container of muffins from the back seat, balancing it carefully so that they don’t get jostled because, trust me, there’s absolutely nothing worse than a bruised muffin.
Paco and I walk on the sidewalk, admiring the houses that have been decorated for the holidays. Betty Jean lives in an older neighborhood composed of modest homes. But the lush gardens and pretty little white picket fences, along with the location, just a block from the gulf, make it prime real estate. I’ve only been to her house a couple of times, but even if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out which one is hers because right there in her front lawn is a professionally made sign that says BETTY JEAN’S BOOK CLUB MEETS TONIGHT!
Paco and I grin at each other. Even though Betty Jean might get on my nerves at times (okay, a lot of the time), I can’t help but admire her tenacity. Sure, she got the wrong J.W. Quicksilver to Whispering Bay. And yeah, he’s a con man who has probably ripped off who knows how many people, but if it wasn’t for her, Will wouldn’t be stepping up to the plate tonight and telling everyone who he really is. So, in effect, she really has brought the real J.W. Quicksilver to town. Just not the way she thinks she has, but it will be the end result people remember about tonight.
I knock on the door and wait for her to answer. After a couple of minutes, I knock again. Knowing Betty Jean, she’s probably still primping. I really hope she’s ditched the seventies wig.