A Twisted Love Story(68)
“Happened all the time,” he said. “Sometimes they stayed anyway, sometimes not. Little Miss Sunshine left, though. Her alias was Summer.”
Oddly enough, he remembered all of this because of one thing: She had to come back the following day to get her bag. “She left without it the night before,” he said. “Then she showed up at lunchtime the next day, right after we opened, to pick it up. That was weird. Who leaves their phone, wallet, and keys behind? Who doesn’t come back right away to get them?”
Good questions. And another piece of the puzzle. Karen adds it to her growing list of evidence, creating a picture that should be easy for the DA—or a jury—to see.
Just as she finishes transcribing the call, a new email pops up in her box.
From Bianca.
* * *
—
Ivy has spent two nights shopping for the perfect dress. Not a lot of time and not an easy thing to find, given that she’s going to be married in Vegas this weekend at a place called the Hitching Post, and the wedding will be officiated by a Dolly Parton impersonator. Elvis is so overdone.
After trying on so many different dresses, starting with traditional and working her way all the way down, she finally decided to go ridiculous. Silver sequins, spaghetti straps, draped neckline. At least she didn’t have to worry about jewelry. Just the ring.
She and Wes bought the bands last night. Plain platinum, no decoration, no diamond, just an engraving on the inside with their wedding date. She has already checked five times to make sure they’re packed, along with her shoes, bag, and the fancy clip she bought for her hair.
All with money she doesn’t have. All with money that has to be spent. They both know why they’re getting married so quickly, though they don’t talk about it.
In the back of her mind, it was always going to happen. Eventually. And if Karen is the woman who ended up pushing them over the edge and toward the altar, then so be it. But it’s not the reason they’re doing it. It’s the reason why it’s happening now.
The only person Ivy has told is her college roommate, Sabine, who lives in Arizona with her husband and two kids. They haven’t seen each other for a while, but she’s the only one Ivy knew would be happy for her. Sabine has been saying for years that Ivy and Wes need to separate for good or stop breaking up and get married. Preferably the latter, because she believed in fate.
“I knew there was a reason you two kept getting back together,” Sabine said when Ivy told her. “You’re soulmates.”
Heath would have a different reaction if she told him. Ivy has avoided talking to him for days. On purpose. Everyone else can wait until after they return.
She packs up her makeup and toiletries, pouring what she needs into those three-ounce bottles. She checks her list, which is actually on paper. Ivy stares at it, clicking her pen over and over. It always helps her think.
She has never really written out a list before—not like this—but she did for her wedding. And she takes great joy in checking off each item.
Maybe this will be the start of something new. Maybe she’ll become the kind of wife who writes out lists and puts them on the refrigerator under a crafty little magnet.
But probably not.
56
On Friday, Ivy arrives in Sacramento at nine in the morning. She heads straight to Oblivion, the day spa, where they wrap her in a plush robe and make her a cappuccino. They also take care of her bags.
The sequined wedding dress is carefully wrapped, her suitcase double-checked no less than ten times. Everything on her list is accounted for, but that’s exactly why she doesn’t trust it. Not on the list, not in her bag.
She tries not to think about that. Just before she lies down for her facial, she texts Wes.
Made it to the spa, see you this afternoon ?
She still hasn’t answered Heath’s texts, and she doesn’t do it now. After the weekend, when she’s a married woman, she will have a lot of time to tell him.
After the facial: the mani-pedi combo. Ballet pink nail polish on her toes and fingers.
Her hair doesn’t take long—just a few highlights around her face and a blow-dry. Last but not least: a massage. It lulls her into a daze, and she floats up to the register to pay her bill. Doesn’t pay attention to the final total.
Because it’s her wedding, for God’s sake. Skimping is not an option.
Neither are negative thoughts. Whenever Karen or the investigation enters her mind, she thinks of the Chinese word for no: bù. She repeats it as she leaves Oblivion and drives to the airport.
The flight is at two, and she pulls into the long-term parking lot at twelve fifteen. Plenty of time. Compared to San Francisco, the airport in Sacramento is small. No need to rush through security. Even taking her time, she arrives at the gate by twelve forty-five. She sits down with a magazine and a bottle of water and checks her phone.
Again.
Still nothing from Wes. Over the past couple of hours, all thoughts of the wedding and the case have been slowly replaced by the fact that she hasn’t heard from him at all. Not once today. A bad feeling creeps in, wondering if he is ghosting her again. Her future husband.
Ivy has been trying to make herself comfortable with the word husband for days, ever since they decided to go to Vegas. Doesn’t quite feel comfortable yet, but it will.