The Almost Truth (16 page)

Everything Brendan had said made sense. Bowton Island wasn’t that big. If my parents had been childless and suddenly
showed up with a kid, I couldn’t imagine that would go unnoticed. This was the kind of town where the grocery clerk made a mental note of how much beer your family bought on a weekly basis, and the pharmacist would raise an eyebrow if an interesting prescription for a rash crossed his desk. Privacy was more of a vague concept here. People would insist that it wasn’t gossip, but rather neighborly concern. The truth was, people liked to be in other people’s business. It gave them a measuring stick to chart how much better they were than someone else.

In fourth grade I’d had a bit of a crush on my teacher, Miss Bauer. She smelled like freshly sharpened pencils, and every day she wore a cardigan sweater and matching colored tights. As far as my ten-year-old self was concerned, this was the height of fashion. After Christmas break she had returned to school with a diamond ring on her hand. She’d gotten engaged over the holiday to our gym teacher, Mr. Lumbardia. This had struck all the girls in her class as unbelievably romantic. We’d begged her for the details over recess and sighed as she told how Mr. Lumbardia had gotten down on one knee right at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

I used to volunteer to stay after school and help Miss Bauer tidy up the classroom. My favorite task was to organize the three shelves of books we had into alphabetical order. In my mind, the books practically belonged to me. I felt like the official librarian, organizer of knowledge, and guardian of books. If I caught any of my classmates touching pages with sticky fingers or (oh, the
inhumanity) breaking the spine of a book to lay it open flat on their desk, I would shoot them a dirty look. If that didn’t work, I would rat them out to Miss Bauer. Books were serious business.

One Friday afternoon, alphabetizing long after my classmates had left for gymnastics lessons or visits with their divorced dads, I was stuck. There was a new book and the author had a hyphenated name, Barber-Starkey. I wasn’t sure if the book should go under
B
or under
S
. It seemed to me to be a very big deal. I didn’t want people to have to search for a book. The whole point of my task was to create organization out of chaos. I had a responsibility. If I could go back in time, I would pick my ten-year-old self up and shake her by the lapels and tell her that it didn’t matter. Just stuff the book in anywhere and go home. Instead I took the book and went in search of Miss Bauer, who had gone to get something from the teacher’s lounge.

I suspect if I had heard her talking to anyone else, I would have knocked right away, but she was talking to Mr. Lumbardia. I wanted to hear what she would say. I harbored a secret desire that she would tell him how I was her best student and clearly, as demonstrated by my volunteer activity, committed to organization, and as a result she wanted to ask me to be one of her bridesmaids. I could already picture myself in a bright pink bridesmaid dress, standing next to her at the front of the church. When I heard Mr. Lumbardia’s voice, my hand paused just an inch away from knocking on the teacher’s lounge door.

“I’m just saying, watch your purse on parent-teacher night.
Her dad has been in and out of prison so much he’s got his name engraved on his cell door.”

My throat seized shut. There was no doubt in my mind who he was talking about.

Miss Bauer laughed. “Oh, you’re terrible. I have to admit, I was sure she’d be one of those kids with grime on their neck and constantly stealing supplies out of the closet, but she’s quite sweet, and one of the better readers.”

“Well, she’s not setting the class on fire in gym. That girl couldn’t hit a ball if her life depended on it.”

“If you want to increase her running time, maybe you should make a police siren noise behind her,” Miss Bauer said, before they both exploded with laughter.

I couldn’t believe she’d said that. Miss Bauer with her matching cardigans and smiley face stickers that she would stick on my papers. I felt like I’d been stabbed in the heart. It was like discovering that your favorite fairy-tale princess is actually an evil witch complete with a hooked nose and broomstick. I ran back to the classroom and stuffed the book on the shelf. I vowed I would never volunteer another minute. Miss Bauer could organize her own shelves from now on. I was just about to leave when I stopped. I snatched one of the Judy Blume books off the shelf. Since Miss Bauer thought so little of me anyway, I might as well steal it. She’d already listened to the gossip and decided exactly who I was before I’d opened my mouth for the first time. She wasn’t interested in my family history because she wanted to
help; she was interested because it made a good story. It gave her some material to joke about with her sweaty fiancé. I’d shoved the Judy Blume book in my bag and run for the door.

I realized I was squeezing Bun Bun, with his ear held up to my mouth. I guess old habits die hard. I turned him over in my hands and noticed the tag sewn into one of his seams. The green print was faded, but it could still be read:

A HARRODS ORIGINAL—LONDON, ENGLAND

I stared at the label. Harrods. One of the most exclusive, expensive department stores in the world.

The queen shopped at Harrods. My parents most definitely did not. So where had I gotten the bunny?

I
tore through the hotel hallways, stepping around the stacks of luggage and camera equipment waiting for bellhops to deliver them to the correct rooms. Mr. Stanbury saw me, but before he could yell at me for walking around without a uniform, I dodged down another hall.

I burst into the Arbutus Ballroom. They had already done most of the setup. The tables had cream tablecloths and deep blue runners. Every place setting seemed to have at least three glasses and four different types of forks. Being really wealthy means you never worry about how many dishes there will be to wash up later. One of the maids was washing the windowpanes, ensuring there wouldn’t be a single smudge to mar the view. I finally spotted Chase, standing in the corner with a clipboard, ticking off items. I wove my way through the tables over to him.

I touched his elbow to get his attention. “Sorry to bother you, but can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Hey, I’ve been trying to reach you.” Chase smiled, looking happy to see me.

I melted. It was nice to have someone pleased to be around me. Especially when that someone was as good-looking as Chase. “Sorry. Things have been busy; my dad just got home . . . from a long business trip, so my mom’s been organizing lots of family things. I should have called you back.”

“Don’t worry. This worked out perfectly. Here, I wanted to introduce you to someone.” He raised his arm to wave across the room.

“I needed to ask you something,” I said. I wasn’t interested in making this a social call. I was glad to see Chase, but I didn’t have any interest in acting perky and nice to one of his friends.

“Sure.” Chase was distracted, still trying to get the guy’s attention from across the room. “But Mr. McKenna wants to meet you, too. I told him how your group volunteered to do all the brochures, and he wanted to thank you personally.”

My mouth suddenly felt as if every bit of moisture had been sucked out. I looked across the room. It was Mr. McKenna. He was laughing at something someone said and had already motioned back to Chase. It was just a matter of time until he crossed the room. I searched his face. He looked a bit older than the newspaper photos. It seemed if there was even the slightest
chance that he was my dad, that I should be able to tell, that there would be something like an electrical charge between us, a connection of sorts. But there was nothing. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was still too dry.

What would he say when he saw me? I was equally appalled by the idea that he might recognize me as that he might not. I spun away from him and grabbed Chase’s arm. “I need to talk to you now.” I dragged him out into the hallway.

“Wait a second, don’t you want to meet Mr. McKenna?” Chase motioned over his shoulder back at the ballroom.

“Not right now. I’m a mess. I’ve got dust and dirt all over me.”

“He isn’t going to care about that—,” Chase started to say before I cut him off.

“I care. I’ll meet him later, okay? I want to make a good impression.” I looked around the hall, making sure Mr. McKenna hadn’t followed us. “Do you remember when you told me about Ava and her stuffed bunny? Do you know what it looked like, or where they might have gotten it?”

Chase looked confused at how quickly the conversation was changing. “Where they bought it? Are you looking for a stuffed bunny for some reason?”

I wanted to scream with frustration and pull my bunny out of my tote bag and shove it in his face asking if he could identify it once and for all. Maybe I could have a bunny lineup like on the police shows, each rabbit holding an identifying number.
“No. I don’t want to buy a bunny; I just need to know about the one that used to belong to Ava.”

“I have a picture of Ava holding it on my computer. I was going to use it in the slide show.”

My heart picked up pace. “Can I see it?”

“Now?”

I nodded, trying to communicate it was important, but without looking too desperate.

“Okay, but my computer is up in my room,” Chase said.

I flushed. It was stupid, the point of this was to see the picture of Ava’s bunny, but I couldn’t lie to myself. I liked the idea of being invited to his room. If things turned out the way I expected, it would change everything. I wouldn’t have to lie about who I was, because I would be exactly the kind of person Chase went out with. I linked arms with him and led him toward the bank of elevators. “Great. Let’s go.”

When we got up to his room, Chase paused right after using his swipe card to unlock the door. He raised one eyebrow and looked at me. “Be honest. Is this a ploy to get me alone to have your way with me?”

I managed a sarcastic grin to hide how awkward I felt. “Drat, my plan foiled, and right at the cusp of reaching my goal. I should have known you weren’t that kind of guy.”

Chase flung the door wide open. “Why didn’t you tell me that was the plan all along? I wouldn’t have wasted time asking
all those questions.” He winked. “And for the record, I’m exactly that kind of guy.”

I blushed again. It was annoying. I didn’t see myself as the type to get all flustered, but Chase flirted in a way that I wasn’t used to. It felt like being in one of my mom’s romance novels.

Chase’s room was pretty standard for the Keppler Hotel. A king-size bed, a desk by the window, a giant armoire where they hid the TV from view, and a wingback chair in the corner. It was nice, even if it was a bit heavy on the floral fabric for my taste. I stepped to the window and looked out. His room was on the end, so there was a partial view of the ocean, but I had to crane my head to the left to see it.

Chase stood in front of the desk and flipped his laptop open. “Let me guess, having to see this picture is part of your international woman of mystery thing.”

“Woman of mystery?” I said, making my way behind him so I could peer over his shoulder. His computer screen saver was a shot of him standing with friends at the top of some mountain with their snowboards. An image of me standing next to him in a color-coordinated designer ski outfit flashed through my mind. Sure, I didn’t know how to ski, but vacationing in Switzerland would be a great place to learn. I fought the urge to move him out of the way so I could scroll through his photos faster.

“Do you realize how little I know about you? It’s like going out with someone who’s in the witness protection program, or was just released from a lifelong career undercover with the CIA.
You never talk about your family. You’ve never told me where you live. When you didn’t return my calls, I realized I had no other way to get ahold of you. You could have dropped off the face of the world and I wouldn’t have even known where to start looking.”

“I told you, I had a bunch of family stuff.” I shrugged, noticing just how close we were standing to each other. The fact that he’d wanted to get in touch with me sent a shiver down my spine.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you were playing hard to get. I’d love to meet your parents, see your house. I bet your mom is the type to drag out all of those old naked-in-the-bathtub baby photos to humiliate you.”

I tried to hide the horror I felt at the idea of him meeting my parents. I could almost picture his face as he looked around the trailer. My mom standing there with the gray straps of her bra sticking out from the collar of her shirt and my dad sitting in his La-Z-Boy, which had an armrest reupholstered with duct tape, with a can of cheap beer between his legs. “Trust me. My mom isn’t the baby photo type. Besides, you’ve been busy with everything here. I know you don’t have a bunch of time to hang out.”

“I’d make time for you,” Chase said. “I had a great time when we went to Seattle.”

I flushed. “Me too.”

“So you’ll go out with me again?” Chase moved a step closer to me. I felt his thigh just barely touching mine. My breath started to come more quickly. He smelled like a mix of shampoo
and some sort of cologne that smelled like warm tobacco and vanilla. I inhaled deeply, which made me feel dizzy. He ran his index finger down the side of my bare arm, and a wake of goose bumps rose up in response.

“Um, sure.” I found myself leaning toward him. I felt my muscles loosen like I might become a molten puddle at his feet. Chase cupped his hand behind my head and pulled me the last few inches. His lips were soft, like warm velvet. My mouth melted under his, and his kiss became more insistent. I felt like I could take one step farther and meld completely with him, cease to exist.

Chase pulled away. “Now that I know you care, you can see the picture.” He bent over and clicked the mouse a few times.

I wanted to shake my head to clear the cobwebs. Chase had a way of turning his charm off and on in a way that gave me emotional whiplash.

“So for our next date, I’m thinking we should do a nice dinner. We can celebrate me surviving this event and that we met. Should we stay here, or take the ferry over to Seattle?” Chase asked.