Mara was going back home to Sturbridge to pack. She and Ryan had said a tearful good-bye that morning, and her eyes were still red from crying. She had to be brave, but already she was wondering if they had acted too quickly. In any case, he wasn't going anywhere. Mara knew exactly where he would be, and Dartmouth wasn't too far away. But they had agreed on no strings. They were free. Free to return to each other as well.
She tried not to feel too sad. After all, there was so much to look forward to. Already, Sam Davis had asked her if she would think about interning at Metropolitan Circus during the school year. The general-interest magazine famous for plastering nude pregnant celebrities on its cover had hired her as editor in chief, and Sam Davis was going to back to the New York media world as fast as you could say "private town car."
Jacqui finally emerged from the front door. She stuffed her bags in the trunk and slid into the backseat.
"Ready?" She smiled at them.
Eliza gunned the engine, and Mara put down the magazine. She plugged her iPod into the auxiliary connection, and the car's
306
stereo reverberated with Gwen Stefani's sultry voice singing, "Your lovin' is better than gold. ..."
It had been another hecti
c, arduous summer. The Hamptons had been a wonderful host to their adventures, and they would miss its rocky beaches, its shingled cottages, its rustic yet elegant charm. Perhaps they would come back again, older, wiser, less likely to end up dancing on tables at Cain. Or not.
Whatever happened, they knew they would have each other to turn to for support, advice, love, and friendship. The Hamptons had brought the three of them together, and they would always be grateful for that gift.
And now, New York City beckoned. . . .