Page 44 of Nantucket Gala

Sophia scanned the crowd for some sense of what he said, but she was too drunk. Faces blurred together.

She laughed. “It’s the best night we’ve had in ages, Francis.”

As she said it, she felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

When the song ended, Sophia returned to the table to find Greta, but she wasn’t in her seat. When she asked Bernard where she was, he said he wasn’t sure. “She might have run off to call the babysitter. She’s worried about our son.”

Sophia shifted her weight from foot to foot. She felt on the verge of tears again. Maybe she could dip back into the bathroom, have a little cry, clean herself up, and return for another couple of drinks. It wasn’t like Francis wasn’t drunk, too. Maybe nobody would notice. Perhaps she’d escape ridicule.

Before you know it, you’ll be back at the hotel. Before you know it, you’ll be gone.

Sophia limped down the hallway. The brand-new heels she’d bought for the occasion were digging into her skin. Just before she opened the door, she removed them and carried them inside. This was a top hotel, after all. Surely, the bathroom tiles were as clean as the dinner plates.

But when she stepped into the bathroom, she discovered she wasn’t alone. Her stomach seized.

There at the sink stood Natalie Masterson, fixing her lipstick. Their eyes connected in the mirror. Sophia bit her tongue to keep herself from sobbing.

“Sophia!” Natalie capped her lipstick and turned around. She looked joyous.

Sophia raised her chin and concentrated hard on walking straight. Natalie was a bit fuzzy at the edges as though she, too, were tipsy.

“It’s been an incredible night, hasn’t it? I heard a rumor that we’re just ten grand away from our goal,” Natalie gushed. “Every few minutes, I pinch myself. By October, we’ll be in France and Italy, filming together. We’ll be dining in piazzas and drinking the best red wine the world has to offer. Back when we worked on that World War II film, this was our dream. Remember? But even I never believed we would get this far.”

Sophia raised the corners of her lips. She had to match Natalie’s intensity. “You’re going to love it, Natalie. You really will.”

Natalie nodded. “You really saved me, Sophia. For so many years, I was all alone, thinking it was over and I was washed up. But you were right when you said we’re not old. Not yet. We’re twenty-seven, for goodness’ sake. We have our entire lives ahead of us. And Francis’s scripts always give such breadth and empathy to female characters. I could imagine him writing scripts about older women, even. Women who don’t usually get screen time.” A blush crawled up her chest. “I’m rambling, Sophia. I’m sorry.” She laughed. “You know how I get.”

Sophia washed her hands and used the tips of her fingers to wet the sweaty back of her neck. When she looked at Natalie again, Natalie was using a dark powder to highlight her eyebrows. Sophia considered knocking the wand from her hand.

Get ahold of yourself, Sophia. Natalie is your friend. The sooner you get that through your head, the better.

But that was when she smelled it.

It was lilac. It was rose. It was the same scent lurking in the air of the hotel room she shared with Francis. And here it was,wafting off the perfect, glowing skin of film actress and husband-thief Natalie Masterson.

Sophia’s mouth went dry.

Natalie capped her eyebrow powder and raised her shoulders. She looked more like a Midwestern cheerleader allowed to play dress-up. Sophia flared her nostrils to take in the perfume again. Should she say something? Oh, but she didn’t want to let Natalie know she knew.

“Save me a dance, Soph?” Natalie asked.

“Anything for an old friend, Nat.”

Sophia’s heart gushed with jealousy.

But just before Natalie left the bathroom, Sophia twisted around and asked Natalie a question that was never far from her mind. “What on earth happened to Dean Chatterly?”

At the mention of her handsome up-and-coming actor ex, all the color drained from Natalie’s face. Her eyes found the tips of her shoes. “Oh, Dean. I really loved him, you know.”

“I know you did.”

Natalie’s lower lip bounced.

Sophia wondered if she was really that good of an actress. Did she know what happened to Dean? Was she hiding something?

The circumstances of Dean’s death had been and still were deemed mysterious. After a long run around the home he’d shared with Natalie, he’d disappeared. For three weeks, the police had looked for him, only for his body to turn up in the canyon. It was made to look like Dean had fallen during his run. But two of their neighbors said they’d seen Dean return from his run, towel off in his driveway, and shoot hoops.

“I always told him he exercised too hard,” Natalie said, sighing clumsily. “But he was sure better abs, muscles, and legs were just around the corner. He was sure his good looks meant he would never die.”

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