Triple Moon Page 20

  But right now, she wasn’t ready to do anything except run away and forget. Marshall, she realized, was what she had wanted all along. He was kind and funny and creative, and he made her feel like she was all these things too. He believed there was sweetness in her. And the force of his belief made her feel as good as she ever had.

  She knew now that Marshall was a great guy. But what was taking him so long? If he didn’t drive up soon, customers were going to show up and ruin everything.

  She fiddled with the window display. Maybe she should read her sister’s text. It might be important. Okay, she would read it, but she certainly wouldn’t let Mardi know her whereabouts or her plans. She had to retain at least some dignity in this disaster.

  Molly flicked on her screen and gasped. Mardi had sent a photo of their ring, on the middle finger of her right hand.

  Look familiar? It’s back. Where r u? Need to talk.

  She typed back: I’ll tell u, but only if u promise to give it to me.

  Even as she finished typing, she was surprised by her reaction. She’d never been covetous of the ring before. It had always been the one thing that escaped the realm of their competition, like a free radical hopping between them. But something had changed since she discovered they were kissing the same guy.

  Seeing the ring on her screen had made her sick to her stomach. She wanted it back, and she didn’t want Mardi to have it. Couldn’t she have one thing that was hers alone? She and Mardi shared everything—the same lustrous dark hair, the same blue-black eyes, the same nose, the same dimple on the right cheek!

  She was tired of sharing everything.

  A thought occurred to her that made her suddenly furious. What if Mardi had actually been hiding the ring from her this whole time? She knew it was irrational, but stranger things were happening these days.

  Molly got so mad at her hypothesis that she burst all the jars on the pickle shelf. When that didn’t quite satisfy her rage, she glared at the bottles of homemade organic ketchup until, one by one, they smashed, dribbling a reddish brown glop down the glass of the counter. It looked like a crime scene.

  There. She felt better.

  Marshall finally pulled up at the curb in the old yellow pickup truck he used to gather local produce. Only now she wasn’t quite ready to go with him.

  Mardi had texted back: OK. You can have it. Just come back will you?

  Molly smiled triumphantly. At shop. Meet me here.

  “Ready to go?” Marshall called through his open window with a touch of nervous impatience.

  “Actually, not quite.”

  “Do you need me to come in and help you carry anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.” The last thing she needed was for him to see the havoc she had caused with her little tantrum just now. He’d never be able to leave his controlling mom’s precious shop in that state. They’d be stuck here cleaning for days. If they left now, it would be easy to blame on vandals when they got back. After all, there had been such a rash of seemingly random destruction in town. Her mess would fit right into the pattern. And someone else, as always, would clean it up.

  She just had to stall him long enough for Mardi to arrive. She might have to resort to magic if her sister didn’t show soon. There was no way she was leaving that ring behind.

  “Molly, we really should get a move on. It’s getting late.”

  “Hold your horses. I’m waiting to say good-bye to my sister, okay? She’s on her way.”

  “What? Why?” he asked, sounding uncharacteristically annoyed.

  Before Marshall could protest further, the Ferrari came screeching around the corner of Main Street. It stopped right in front of Molly. Mardi rolled down the window, and Molly was instantly mesmerized by the ring glowing on her hand.

  “Mine,” she said.

  “Fine, Molly. But we need to be careful.” Mardi slipped the ring off and handed it to Molly. “Please get in the car.”

  “Give me a minute to close up the shop,” Molly hedged. She looked back at Marshall in the cab of his truck, but couldn’t see him.

  She ran into the quaint little wallpapered bathroom at the back of the shop, unhooked a thin gold chain around her neck, slipped the ring around it, fastened it carefully, and checked her reflection in the mirror over the washbasin. The ring was much shinier than she recalled. The diamond etchings in the band seemed more pronounced now, and the metal was radiant. It was as though she had never really looked at the ring before and was finally seeing it for the treasure it had always been.

  Feeling stronger and steadier now that she had it back, she rushed outside and was startled to see her sister standing right at the door with a serious look on her face.

  “I get it,” Molly said, preempting the lecture Mardi was sure to deliver. “We have a lot to talk about. But right now—” She froze midsentence. There was Tris himself, running up behind Mardi. And Mardi was turning to him as if he was a close friend.

  “Mardi, have you completely lost your mind? What is going on? Do you remember what this guy did to us?”

  “We can explain,” Mardi said, her face hopeful and pleading.

  “Uh-huh!” Molly said. “It’s all falling into place now. You’ve been in on this all along, haven’t you? That whole act back at Ingrid’s about how shocked you were to see me kissing Trystan in the greenhouse was a total scam. The two of you have been playing a joke on me!”

  “Molly, come on. Please don’t be so paranoid! I would never do that to you. And I wouldn’t be able to stand you kissing a boyfriend of mine even if it was the best joke in the world. You’re not being logical.”

  But now that she understood the magnitude of the deceit all around her, Molly couldn’t bear to listen to her sister pretending to reason with her. Not for another second. It was simply too offensive. She turned to Tris. “I don’t know who or what you are, but get out of my way.”

  But Tris didn’t move. Instead, he attempted yet another one of his tricks. “Molly, I’m not Tris, and I never have been. I’ve never met you till today. I go by Trent. Everyone in town knows me by that name. There’s never been anyone named Tris Gardiner.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Please let me try to explain,” he said, actually sounding sincere.

  “Come on, Molly,” Mardi pleaded. She was truly an excellent actress. “Hear us out.”

  Did they take her for an utter moron? “No way. You guys are the people I least want to hear from right now.”

  With that, she ran to the truck, opened the door, and said, “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “Great,” Marshall said with a broad smile, gunning it out onto the road.

  “If my sister thinks I’ll listen to anything they have to say, she has another thing coming. I’m never setting foot in North Hampton again.”

  • • •

  They drove in silence for a while. Not until they were on the outskirts of town among the fields of potatoes and corn, where the old farmhouses were acres apart, did Molly begin to exhale. She fingered the ring she wore around her neck. “We never really learned the Cookie Monster lesson,” she said, touching it gently.

  “It’s all right,” he said. Then, still driving fast, he reached over with his right hand to carefully take the ring between his thumb and forefinger. “Pretty.” His fingers were sort of grimy, she noticed.

  “Thanks,” she said, then pulled it away, uncomfortable at the thought of anyone else touching it right then. It was hers.

  The ring was finally hers alone.

  35

  YOUR LYIN’ EYES

  Mardi watched with a sinking feeling as Marshall’s yellow pickup disappeared down the lane. Did Molly really believe Mardi was capable of playing such a horrid prank deliberately? It was an awful blow to realize how estranged they were. Sure, they bickered and scratched at each other, but in the
end, they were sisters . . . twin sisters. They only had each other, really.

  “I can see why she doesn’t believe us,” Mardi sighed. “You and me showing up together when she still thinks you’re the one who totally screwed her over and made her look foolish. Looking foolish might be Molly’s worst nightmare. And as far as she’s concerned, that nightmare has come true. I know, because I felt the same way she does until only an hour ago. I just wish I could have convinced her to let me explain.”

  Trent put his arm around her. “It’s not your fault. Give her a day or two to calm down, and then you’ll be able to reach her. As long as she doesn’t have the ring, she’s safe. But for now, you and I need to figure out what to do with that toxic thing.”

  “What do you mean?” Panic rising, Mardi looked at her bare hand.

  “You gave her the ring?”

  “She’s my sister—we share it! She asked for it back.”

  “And you gave it to her?”

  “Yes! That’s the way we operate. It’s both of ours! It’s our only bond. I had to give it to her, especially now. I thought it would make her trust me. Also I sort of felt like the ring wanted to go to her. I don’t know, maybe I’m imagining it. It’s hard to tell anything for sure right now, when we’re all in such high gear. But I wanted it off my finger. The urge was stronger than I am.”

  “Nothing is stronger than you, Mardi,” he said.

  His words flooded her with a new sense of purpose. He was so beautiful, his skin golden in the morning sun, his muscles taut in anticipation of the challenge ahead. She wanted to pull him back into the Ferrari and have her way with him in the passenger seat, but this was no time to let herself be distracted.

  “We have to think . . . Molly is in danger from Alberich as long as she’s got the ring. And she has no idea that Tris is really Alberich. So if he finds her . . .”

  Trent scratched his nose. “You saw the way she reacted to me just now, when she thought I was Tris. She’s not going to let Tris anywhere near her, except maybe to try to blow his head off. And I’m sure Alberich knows that. He’s going to try to get to her as someone else.”

  “Yeah, thankfully, I don’t think she’d be all that delighted to let Bret into her personal space right now either.”

  “No one she trusts?”

  “Well, there’s Cheeseboy, but he doesn’t cou—” Her heart leapt into her mouth. She had a sudden vision of Marshall’s blue eyes twinkling. The image superimposed in her mind with that of Bret’s baby blues lit up under the body of his giant bronze spider.

  Her memory was kicking back in. The haze of forgetfulness was clearing. She knew with absolute certainty that Marshall’s eyes were Bret’s eyes. They both had the same long tapering fingers, so appealing at first and ultimately so menacing. “Trent, that guy who just drove her away in his pickup—that’s him! Bret! I mean Alberich!”

  “Wait—what—who?”

  “The guy—in the pickup truck—he owns the cheese store?”

  “What guy?”

  “Marshall Brighton—he grew up here with his mom. He runs the store for her while she globe-trots or something. He said it’s been here for ages.”

  “His mom?” Trent frowned and his eyes were cloudy and confused. “No. That’s wrong. That place popped up a few weeks before you two arrived.”

  “He seemed like such a great guy. He was always trying to show Molly and me how to forget our differences and bond.”

  “Sound familiar?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Think about the nature of the ring itself. For as long as you can remember, it’s masqueraded as a sisterly bond between you. For years, it’s been hiding its destructive power. Evil can lurk for a long time in the sweetest of guises.”

  “Well, we have to get it back! And we have to get my sister back!” They ran back to the car and slammed the doors. Mardi hit the gas and floored the pedal, but even as they drove quickly through town, she knew they could be anywhere by now. Even the Ferrari wasn’t fast enough to cover every possible hideaway on the East End before it would be too late.

  “I can’t believe I let her leave with him!” she cried.

  “It’s not you. It’s the ring. It’s Alberich. It’s fate. But we can turn it around. There has to be a way.”

  “Jean-Baptiste! He can help! Maybe he’ll have some guidance or know some way to visualize their whereabouts.”

  “Good idea.”

  • • •

  They drove to Rose Cottage, where Mrs. Green told them that Mr. Mésomier had gone out earlier.

  “Did he say when he would be back?”

  “No, I’m sorry, he didn’t. Would you like to come in and wait? I have delicious coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice and a basket of scones from that lovely Cheesemonger shop. I’d be so delighted to entertain you until Mr. Mésomier returns. I’m so very fond of you young people.”

  As fast as they could, Mardi and Trent begged off and jumped back into the car.

  “Where to now?” she asked, agitated.

  “If only we could find a way of scanning the landscape for that yellow truck. We need a bird’s-eye view . . . I’ve got it! There’s an airport in East Hampton! We can charter a plane! How fast can this old girl get us to East Hampton?”

  “The Ferrari isn’t old—she’s experienced! There’s a big difference.” She couldn’t believe she was arguing this point right now. Like anything mattered except finding her sister. But somehow it seemed important to keep perspective.

  Perspective. A bird’s-eye view. When in her life had she ever really had perspective?

  Then it hit her. The answer.

  “We’re not going to East Hampton. We don’t need a plane.” Without another word, she turned on her ignition, shifted into gear, and drove like lightning, tearing through the sleepy streets of North Hampton, heading to the only recourse she knew.

  36

  MONTAUK

  Molly sat across from Marshall at the breezy outdoor restaurant of the Crow’s Nest, atop a gentle hill sloping down to the shore of Lake Montauk, about a mile outside the groovy surfer town. She was trying to relax, but she was still angry at Trystan as well as the whole confusing mess in New York, angry at Daddy for sending her to East End in the first place. Worst idea ever. But her fiercest fury was reserved for her sister. Mardi was dead to her. And yet Molly couldn’t get Mardi out of her mind.

  “This will help,” said Marshall as their waiter uncorked and poured a French Provençal rosé.

  “Yeah,” she said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Daddy always says there’s nothing like a little wine at lunch to make you feel like you’re on vacation. Which basically means that he’s been on vacation every day of his life.”

  The waiter placed a dish of grilled octopus on a bed of spiced yogurt in between them along with two small share plates. Delicately, Marshall cut the octopus in half. She admired the precise motions of his long graceful hands, which were almost clean now. He’d obviously scrubbed them since they arrived at the hotel, although there was still a trace of dirt beneath his fingernails. She noticed for the first time that his spidery fingers were not unlike Tris’s, a weird coincidence that made her stomach twist. She had to get ahold of herself.

  “Look, whatever happened between you guys, it’s over. And whoever he is, he never deserved you. We’re out of North Hampton now. If you don’t want to go back, we never have to.”

  “What do you mean, never go back? What about your mom’s shop?”

  He shrugged.

  Was he proposing or something? All the other tables around them were laughing and lighthearted. She wasn’t up for some big declaration of undying love right now. She was here to forget, not to fend off crazy propositions.

  “Or if you’d like, we could talk about the weather, or the flight path of those ducks down there on the
lake, or something really pleasant and meaningless.”

  Sarcasm? From sweet Cheeseboy? The last thing she felt like dealing with was his adolescent petulance right now. She decided to ignore it. “Anyway, cheers, and thanks for bringing me here.” She lifted her rosé glass to his.

  He looked down at his plate and batted around a piece of octopus. He seemed to be groping for the right words to say. Finally, he said, his blue eyes blazing, “Everything I’ve done is for you.”

  His intensity was making her uncomfortable. She put down the fork she had been about to raise to her mouth and began to fidget with the neckline of her dress. There was something odd here that she couldn’t place, something deeply amiss. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to bolt from reality after all. Maybe she should have stayed in North Hampton and faced the music. Maybe she was missing her last chance to solve the enigma of what happened in New York. What if her leaving with the ring meant that Jean-Baptiste could no longer help the others? He had been quite clear when she had gone to consult him: the ring was key.

  As she reached to touch it where it dangled in her cleavage, Marshall grabbed her hand and caressed it with surprising skill. A totally unexpected jolt of excitement passed through her body. She felt herself give him an electric smile almost against her will.

  “Is everything to your liking?” the waiter asked, interrupting.

  Molly nodded, even if she couldn’t keep her eyes off Marshall’s blue ones as the waiter refilled their glasses and cleared their appetizer plates. “Your main courses will be out in just a minute.”

  She barely heard the waiter. “What were you saying before? About how everything was for me?”

  “Everything I did this summer was for you,” he whispered.