Ruby was here.
CHAPTER 15
IF NOT FOR THE music, the silence would’ve cut through the moment. All eyes on Ruby Fletcher, sauntering through the pool gate.
It was then that some of the neighbors started to leave. Pete, from the court behind, and the couple who’d arrived with him.
But not us. Not the ones who knew her best.
Ruby pretended not to notice the eyes on her, leaving the sangria in an open spot on the table, pulling our insulated mugs out of my pool bag. “You forgot yours, Harper,” she said, arm extended my way. She pretended not to notice my coolness, the fact that I had asked her, told her to her face, not to come.
“Hey, Charlotte,” she said as Charlotte moved the fan on the table for a better angle. Ruby waved her fingers at Whitney and Molly on the lounge chairs. Only Whitney waved back. “The girls are looking more and more like you each day.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together, nodding once, before carrying the sunscreen over to her daughters. Ignore her. That was Charlotte’s policy, but I didn’t see how it could possibly work when Ruby was standing in the middle of the pool deck, greeting each person one by one.
“Tate, wow, look at you.” A pause. A grin. “Javier.” His name drawn out, like she knew a secret. “Is that Chase? Chase!” she called, arm raised over the crowd. “I didn’t get to say hi the other day!”
Stop. I wanted to shake her. Send her back. Send her away.
People were whispering. Preston to Mac. Javier to Chase. And I couldn’t help thinking it was about me. About what I didn’t know. How naive and clueless I had been. How wrong I had been about Ruby Fletcher all along.
I pivoted to Margo, who was busying herself at the white table, organizing the food, moving things around absently. I didn’t know why she hadn’t stayed home if she really thought this was such a bad idea. “Where’s the baby?” I asked, trying to tune it all out. Keep the tension from brewing over, stifle everything down inside me.
“Napping. Finally. Paul is watching him so I could get out by myself for a little while. It’s so rare these days—”
“Hi there, Preston.” Ruby’s voice carried over the group, my ear tuning in to hers above anyone else’s. She had worked her way into the circle of people standing around the food, and I was trapped between the table and the crowd. I couldn’t look away. Her confident smile. Her fearlessness.
Mac stood off to the side, appearing awkward for maybe the first time in his life, with a bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.
Preston’s date smiled and stepped forward, like she was excited to be in proximity of such celebrity. Shook Ruby’s hand, even, something performative about it, like it was for Preston’s benefit. “Hi,” she said, “I’m Madalyn. It’s so nice to meet you.”
I wanted to shake this girl, too. Tell her he wasn’t worth trying to impress. Tell her how Preston had told the cops that Ruby was crazy, that she didn’t take rejection well, and he’d do the same again. I wanted to tell her that Ruby Fletcher wasn’t worthy of her attention, either. That she craved it, fed off it, was here because of it. I was seeing her clearly, finally. Like Chase did. Like the prosecutor claimed. A grifter, a thief, a sociopath, take your pick—
Then Madalyn pivoted to me, and Preston introduced us. “Right,” she said. “You’re the one who works in admissions?”
I looked to Preston, confused. “We saw your car,” he said.
“Yesterday? I didn’t see you there,” I said to Madalyn. Just Preston, creeping around the edge of the parking lot.
“No, the day before?” she said. “I was keeping him company before we went to lunch. And he saw the cars in the lot, said he knew you. That you were his neighbor.”
But I was shaking my head. “I wasn’t there.” The day before yesterday, Ruby had my car.
But before I could ask him about it, ask Ruby where she’d really been—with my car, with my entire set of keys—Ruby raised her purple mug toward the sky. “The gang’s all here!” she called, spinning away.
Someone turned the music up, as if we could celebrate by blunt-force approach, and Preston guided Madalyn away.
Ruby stopped to talk to Molly, then Whitney, Charlotte watching from afar. I was surprised she didn’t physically intervene, pulling her daughters closer, putting her body between them. But Charlotte stuck to her decision. She was ignoring her as best she could.
Ruby was reveling in our discomfort. How long had she waited? Had she imagined this each night, each week, each passing month? What she would do if she could?