“Hello Addison, Gabriel.” Darcy gives a slight nod. It’s clearly awkward for her, but she is polite. She was raised to have good manners, and it shows. Still, I wonder if she hates me. Gabriel was seeing her when we met, and later told me that he ended it with her before we even went on our first date. He’s honorable like that. She’s still in love with him, though. I can tell from the way she looks at him, her smile getting very small and her eyes growing sad.
“Glad you could be here to help Dad celebrate,” Gabriel says.
A brief and awkward silence follows, which Blythe thankfully breaks. “Darcy was just telling me some wonderful news,” she says, putting her arm around Darcy’s shoulder and drawing her closer. “She has a second audition next week with the Philadelphia Orchestra.”
Gabriel breaks into a wide grin. “That’s fantastic, Darcy. Wow. What position is it?”
“Second violin. I tried out with the auditions committee a few weeks ago, and they called me yesterday to come back.”
“They’d be crazy not to choose you,” he says sincerely. “You’ve been working toward this as long as I’ve known you.”
Her face lights up. “Remember the shows we put on when we were kids? I’d play and you’d sing. Our poor parents, we’d make them sit and watch us perform for hours.”
Blythe laughs. “I’d forgotten about that. You were good even then.” She turns to Gabriel. “No offense, but I’m glad you didn’t pursue a musical career.”
He gives his mother a wry look. “Thanks a lot. Just for that I’ll sing ‘Happy Birthday’ extra loud tonight.”
They all laugh, and I stand there with a frozen smile, trying to hide how left out I feel. Does Darcy realize how lucky she is that she’s known from the time she was a little girl what she wanted to do with her life? She is such a talented, accomplished musician that even though the violin is her instrument, she’s great on the piano too. In fact, it seems to me that there is nothing that Darcy isn’t good at. Tennis, sailing, horseback riding—you name it.
What I’m good at is taking photos, observing others. Is it because I’d rather watch than participate? Once again, I’m plagued with doubts and have the urge to run. But I can’t run again. As Gigi keeps reminding me, in time I’ll make more memories. Ten years, twenty years, I’ll have a past again, and that’s something worth fighting for. I have to get over the fact that Darcy has a lifetime of memories, and that her memories all include Gabriel. No matter what I tell myself, a part of me is waiting for him to come to his senses and tell me that he’s going back to her—that I was just an interesting diversion, or a charity project that he’s tired of. I swallow hard and add my congratulations to Darcy, forcing away the intruding thoughts.
“Thanks,” she says politely before excusing herself.
Blythe gives me a reassuring look, seeming to read my unease, but Gabriel is oblivious.
“Come on, let’s go get a drink.” He holds out a hand, and I take it as we walk deeper into the room, nodding hello at the sea of friends gathered in small circles. I make small talk with a couple who approach, old school friends of Gabriel’s. I’m only half listening, though, as I scan the room, looking for Darcy. My stomach lurches when I see her approach Ted, and he wraps her in a bear hug. She hands him a small wrapped box, and I’m reminded of the long history between her and Gabriel’s family. Gabriel follows my gaze and puts a hand on my arm.
“You okay?”
I nod, biting my lip.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear.
Why? I want to say, but instead I smile and tell him I love him too.
??8??
Julian
Julian ended the call and heaved a deep sigh. Another false lead, according to the detective. He just couldn’t understand it. How could she have disappeared without any trace? Of course, after she disappeared, he’d checked all the local hospitals, as well as those in the surrounding areas, but there was nothing. He’d set Google alerts for a series of keywords pertaining to missing women or unidentified persons, but the hits he got were all dead ends. How was it possible to disappear in this age, when surveillance cameras made anonymity impossible and a bank machine could mark your location instantly? But of course, that had been one of the problems. Cassandra’s bank card, along with her driver’s license and credit cards, was in her Hermès wallet, which was in her Chanel purse, which was still in her bedroom closet upstairs. Her passport still rested in its leather holder in her top dresser drawer. No cash had been withdrawn from any of their accounts, and the thousand dollars’ worth of cash that Julian kept in the house for emergencies had not been touched.