They reached her just as she was opening the door.
“You’re quitting?” Dana asked. “Before you have to?”
Wanda held the door for them, and the three stepped into a late-afternoon haze. The sunny sky had darkened, and Dana knew immediately that plans for visiting the beach had ended.
“I’m the best server they have.” Wanda glanced at Dana. “Present company excepted, of course.”
“No, you’re the best, and they’re nuts. A tapas bar? Why didn’t those two stay in Manhattan? Heck, even in Manhattan, a tapas bar has to be old news.”
“Funny thing. Last night Ken told me I ought to quit. And I just did.”
Dana put her hand on Wanda’s arm. “I’d quit in protest, only I need this job. But I’ll be looking for something else. I can’t take July and August off. Especially not if I’m living out on the beach with you.”
Wanda smiled a little. “Well, at least something good came out of today. You’re still coming to dinner? Even though I’m officially blacklisted?”
“Of course I am. We are.” She put her arm around Lizzie’s shoulders.
“Just bring yourselves, then. No need to fuss with anything. Come about six, and Tracy can show you the cottage afterward. You have a favorite pie?” she asked Lizzie.
“Chocolate!”
“French silk, then. Or German walnut. Maybe one of each. Something tells me I’m going to be baking and baking and baking to get over this.” She lifted a hand in farewell and started out to the parking lot.
“I like Miss Wanda,” Lizzie said. “And we’re going to be living at the beach? Really? With Olivia?”
Dana could feel the trap closing. The only question was who had forged the steel jaws, and she was afraid she had to take the blame.
chapter four
By Sunday evening Tracy was convinced she had imagined her CJ sighting. Scouring the Internet until the wee hours of Saturday morning, she’d found news of his release. With one of his attorneys at his side, he had stated that he was thrilled to be out of prison and planned to spend every minute working toward full exoneration.
“Good luck with that,” she’d said, before she finally fell into bed.
Tracy knew she was a lot of things, not all of them desirable. But once she had been forced to examine her life, she had tried to do so without flinching. She hadn’t deluded herself that CJ had simply caught a bad break. He had, of course—unlike other white-collar criminals, who were still jetting off to Papeete and Santorini on their clients’ dollars—but Tracy was pretty sure CJ really had deserved prison. She remembered a steady stream of mystery guests sporting heavy gold chains and shoulder holsters, snatches of suspicious telephone calls, unexplained bundles of cash in ice-cream cartons, unsavory “assistants” who’d stood out among the country club crowd like orangutans in Ralph Lauren polos.
So while CJ might hope for a not-guilty verdict down the road, she wasn’t going to take bets on it. If he got one, it would simply be due to his uncanny ability to cover his butt.
By Saturday afternoon the reports had dwindled. CJ was said to be holed up with his attorneys, working on strategy. Once a new trial geared up, he might be newsworthy again, but for now, the papers seemed to have more important crooks to cover.
This morning Tracy had finally broken down and called her mother, but good old Mom had only snarled recriminations. Still, there was no reason whatsoever to believe CJ was anywhere except Southern California, staying with a friend or associate who was probably afraid to say no. Considering the number of people who had lost money under his care, she hoped he moved in the dead of night—and often.
The only unanswered question was why Tracy had imagined him. Residue from her mother’s phone message? Or something far more insidious, like fear of getting naked with Marsh.
She had decided to tell her friends the story at dinner tonight and ask their opinions. She could almost hear Wanda’s interpretation. Even thinking about that made her ears itch. Janya’s response would be mature beyond her years. Alice, who could sometimes be a bit foggy, could also, in turn, say exactly the right thing. Of course, children would be present, so Tracy would need to edit carefully or wait until they left the table, which, being kids, they would do at the first opportunity.
Now she slipped on Target jeans and topped them with a frilly Vera Wang blouse, left over from