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Dahlia’s reputation was firmly linked to Dana. Since Dahlia had once screamed down the entire football team for throwing rocks at Dana’s windows, and had, in fact, thrown a rock that had hit the star fullback in the shoulder and told the “pack of pricks” where they could shove their rocks.
That had done nothing to boost Dahlia’s popularity, oddly.
“I don’t see how everyone can be so mean about her,” Ruby said. “How can you not look at her and think about everything she’s lost?”
Dahlia felt kinship with Ruby just then. While Dahlia didn’t feel like her compassion for Dana came from kindness, she knew Ruby’s did.
“You went to school with Caitlin,” Ruby said to Marianne. “Wasn’t she only like a year ahead of you?”
Marianne looked ashamed. “I know. It’s hard to remember from before. I don’t usually... Consciously connect the two things. I know I should. Caitlin was... I mean, I didn’t really know her. She was always busy with her boyfriend.”
The boyfriend.
Everyone knew it had been the boyfriend.
He’d been vilified in town, in theGazette. He’d even been arrested, but he’d never been convicted because there hadn’t been sufficient evidence.
There had never been a body. There had never been anything.
Dana had never even seen justice done for her daughter. She’d never had closure. And once the initial impact of the tragedy had passed, the town had moved on, and eventually Dana had become nothing but a reminder of bad things.
Which had ultimately put her in the category of bad things.
The idea sat heavy in Dahlia’s stomach.
“Dana is always nice to me,” Ruby said.
“Well, that’s just that patented Ruby magic,” Marianne said, wiggling her fingers and twisting one of her rings back into place. “Which lotion is best?”
Ruby grabbed hold of Dahlia’s hand and lifted it to her nose. Then she sniffed her own hand. She tapped on Dahlia’s hand. “I like that one better. What is it?”
“Yours is lavender and salt, Dahlia’s is cedar.”
“Salt?” Dahlia asked. “Salt, Marianne. Really.”
“As in like sea salt,” Marianne said. “It has a scent.”
“Next thing you know you’re going to sell air.”
“Pear Blossom Air,” Marianne said, grinning. “I really could.”
She could. Everything about Marianne appeared effortless. Easy. Like air. Flawless skin and just a hint of makeup. Loose-fitting clothing and hair that just seemed to fall in waves as if by accident, when Dahlia suspected her sister did nothing by accident at all.
She wore six hundred dollars ofshrug, this old thingmost of the time, but was too filled with grace to saythis old thingout loud. She said it with a smile and a wave of her hand when faced with compliments.
“Do it,” Dahlia said.
“If you promise to give me a feature in the paper.”
“Sure. Front page. Local Con Artist Sells Air to Unsuspecting Public.”
“I demand a retraction,” Marianne said, eyes narrowed.
“Okay, but while it’s the three of us,” Ruby said, her eyes going very bright and alert, “tell me what’s going on with Lydia.”
“Uh...” Marianne looked at Dahlia.
Dahlia frowned. “She’s Lydia.”
