Goodbye Earl(10)

“No!” Kasey’s mouth twisted into a snarl. Caro couldn’t help but think she was ridiculously cute. Caro was pissed, but it was so good to be this close to Kasey again, to see her grouchy face right in front of her. “I didn’t come here for Si! I’m engaged. You know I’m engaged to Devon. What are you talking about?”

“I haven’t even seen your engagement ring in real life,” Caro said, taking Kasey’s left hand, separating her ring finger from the others. She touched the square diamond, gently pulling it closer to her eyes. “It’s gorgeous and it’s huge. Devon must be loaded?”

“Yours is bigger than mine. Please! The diamond as big as the Ritz.” Kasey smacked her lips and snatched Caro’s left hand up to her face. They both eyed the ice flashing in the sunlight. “Um, you’re married to Maxwell Mason Foxberry the Third.” Kasey held up three fingers with her free hand. “That long-ass name alone screams money. It’s, like, probably illegal for a poor person to have a name like that. Get real. His family owns more than half of Goldie…so yeah, now you own more than half of Goldie. Puhlease!”

No, Caroline didn’t exactly hate becoming town royalty by default when she’d married Trey. The girls had teased her about it for a bit, calling her Princess Caroline and Princess Caroppenheimer Foxberry the Third in their emails and texts. Ada was one to talk, with how much money she’d always had, and Rosemarie was content with nonprofits and working for Christian charities. Apparently, Kasey was now rolling in it too, which made Caro so happy. Kasey grew up with practically nothing and went off to an Ivy League and now had this amazing job and apparently an amazing, loaded fiancé, and all of that would have been lovely if Kasey had bothered to return to Goldie even once during the last fifteen years. Caro’s fresh round of tears was angry and it wasn’t stopping. She wanted to know why Kasey was back, but of course Kasey wouldn’t budge. She had been as stubborn as a Mississippi mule since the day she was born.

“I’m not here for Silas, trust me,” Kasey said softly.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” Caro said.

“It’s Roses,” Rosemarie said. Kasey opened the door and wiped her eyes.

“Tell her. Tell her Silas is out there somewhere,” Caro said, stepping back to whip some toilet paper off the roll. They were so used to seeing one another cry Rosemarie didn’t even mention it. She just smiled at them.

“Oh, he’s out there, all right. Forever hot as shit. You haven’t seen him?” Rosemarie said, finishing the champagne in her flute. Caro honked her nose and wiped her face some more. Rosemarie touched the top of her head, then Kasey’s.

“Y’all, please! I haven’t seen Silas in fifteen years! And lemme check! Oh yeah, I’m still engaged,” Kasey said, holding up her hand.

“You wouldn’t be this mad if you didn’t care. Look at you—you’re sweating!” Caro said, moving Kasey to the mirror.

“What do you expect? It’s hot in here! Damn!” Kasey said, fanning herself.

“Look, girl, we’re only telling you the facts. The facts are: he’s out there,” Rosemarie said. She thumbed toward the window.



Trey was handling business at the distillery and said maybe if he had time, he’d swing by the Plums’ later. Caro didn’t care either way. Not anymore. The bourbon slipped itself around her like a jacket with a hood, and she could feel it working, blocking out some of the bad. She put the empty flask back in her bag, which she’d left in Ada’s old bedroom, and met Kasey—leaning against the wall, texting—in the hallway again.

“Show me another picture of Devon,” Caro said to her. “Are you texting him about Silas?”

“Caro, you’re—”

“I’m what? Go ahead—tell me.” She smirked and put her hand on Kasey’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I’m looking at your face.”

“You’re so beautiful. Honestly, I don’t want to fight. I really mean it when I say I’m sorry. I—”

“Show me another picture of Devon, please,” Caro said again.

In high school, Silas used to call Kasey “Dandelion,” but to Caro right then, Kasey looked like a brown-haired daisy in her white dress. Her mom was white and her dad was black, and both those things came together perfectly in Kasey’s features. She had a heart-shaped face, the cutest nose, pink lips. A delicate dimple in her chin like a fingerprint press in soft dough. Kasey was the oldest of them but looked the youngest; she was mistaken for a freshman all throughout high school.

Kasey pulled up a picture of Devon that Caro hadn’t seen and handed her the phone. Devon Allbright, sitting up on his elbows in the grass in Bryant Park, wearing a pair of Wayfarer sunglasses. He was ultra-preppy in a white T-shirt and navy shorts rolled once, summer-brown skin, hair combed back. Caro told Kasey that the photo was literally “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley come to life. RACK knew every word of that song by heart. They used to screamsing it in high school, driving the country roads in Ada’s convertible. Now Caro—buzzed as a fat, pollen-drunk bee—sang part of the chorus to Kasey with their faces so close.

“I know, right? I’ve probably told him that before. He thinks I’m crazy for it, I’m sure,” Kasey said.