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“Fredricka, Maddison is not going to steal anything from me.”
She arches a brow. “How do you know for sure, Nicholas? From what I hear around town, she’s barely been back in over ten years. A few quick visits here and there, and that’s it. Living in a city changes a person. We don’t need trouble on this street. I’m only trying to watch out for you. I knew a man once who left Stillwell, went off to live in New York City, and got himself thrown in jail. He was released and came back here in the dead of night, stole his own brother’s car.”
“Maddison isn’t going to steal my car.”
Again, she arches her brow. “How can you be absolutely sure? Everyone’s saying she’s unhinged. I heard she gave away her car. Donated it, not a dollar changed hands. What sort of a person does that? She must be off her rocker.”
I look down at my watch. “Shoot, it’s getting late.”
She doesn’t take the point. She crosses her arms. “Move your spare key to a different location. One she doesn’t know about. That’s my suggestion. Andyes, I will keep a close eye on your place while she’s next door. Did you know she’s got her boyfriend here, from LA? He arrived this afternoon.”
My blood pressure’s been good lately.
Even within a healthy range, last time I checked it.
But in this instant, at the mere mention of Maddison’s “boyfriend,” I feel every vein in my body constrict. Yep, that’s a blood pressure spike if I ever felt one.
“Excuse me?” I glance over at Pansy’s and see a few lights on.
My skin feels clammy.
Does she have a guest?
Fredricka looks pleased that she finally got a reaction out of me. “That’s right. The big-deal film producer from California.”
“I think—I think hewritesmovies, actually.”
She nods. “Exactly. That’s what I said. He’s a famous director, and he had lunch with Maddison today. Very conspiratory, their lunch was. Frank Devlin was there at the diner having his daily chocolate malt milkshake and he called me up to tell me about it. The two were thick as thieves. And…there’s more.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and groan.
I don’t want to hear any more of this ridiculous gossip.
There’s really no way to tell how much of it is true.
I suspect not much.
At the same time, some irresponsible, dumb part of me wants to hear every single rumor she wants to fling my way, just in case I can pick up something—one little scrap—that might help me understand what’s going on.
Against my better judgment, I pull my hand away from my nose. “Okay, what… what else?”
“Well, you know how Milly’s husband drives for Green Cab? He got hired today by the man, Sylvester—her boyfriend, you know. Drove him from the airport to the diner, then to some fancy hotel. The Marriott, over in Hopkins. Do you know what I heard? I heard Sylvester didn’t even give a tip. How’s that for a clear example of how these people from the city act? He was on the phone, apparently, for the whole drive, barely said ‘hello’ or ‘have a good day’ when Milly’s husband dropped him off. Theonly thing he did bother to mention is that he’s in town until Friday, to spend time with Maddison.”
“I—I didn’t—are you sure?” I turn to look at Pansy’s again.
What’s going on?
I knew she got a call from him today while we were sitting in the clinic’s cafeteria.
But last night…
Last night Maddison and I were together, and it didn’t seem like she was thinking about Sylvester at all.
Was I deluding myself?
Have I been misreading everything that’s been happening between me and Maddison, this whole time?
No way.
