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Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. ALSO BY JAMIE BRENNER
  3. PART ONE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. PART TWO
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. PART THREE
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. Acknowledgments
  81. About the Author
  82. What’s next onyour reading list?

With the deck in her hands, she felt steadier than she had since the moment she set eyes on the engagement ring. The familiar motion of shuffling was like a big exhale.

Maud turned her first card over. The Tower.

“How’s that for the entire picture?” she said, heart pounding. The Tower indicated danger. Crisis. Destruction.

“You still have to pull two more cards,” Maud said. “We don’t know what it means yet.”

Celeste stood up, her legs shaky. “I’m afraid I know everything I need to know.”

33

The orders came in overnight, a flurry of requests after she posted photos of her Rock Candy rings against the backdrop of the water. She was counting the minutes until Sanjay arrived tomorrow with her equipment. Now she didn’t need them just for the photo shoot: She’d have to create new pieces to replenish her inventory.

At eight in the morning she walked up Commercial to the post office, a redbrick building in the center of town, to buy packing material and get her pieces out to customers.

She knew she couldn’t keep going like this forever: a one-woman operation schlepping jewelry in her backpack to the post office every day, secretly checking her Instagram all day long while trying to work a paying job. She was starting to wonder if she was delusional about having a real business. That guy Jacob Jabarin had been right. Of course he was right; that’s why he was a billionaire investor and she was at the mercy of her ex-boyfriend and a U-Haul.

But Provincetown made it hard to sink into a truly bad mood. Early risers were rewarded with spectacular light and a calm before the tourist storm on the main drag.

After the post office, she took a walk to quiet her anxiety and ended up across the street from the Harrison Gallery. Two men carried a large painting wrapped in brown paper up the stairs. One of them was Connor.

Her first impulse was to duck behind a street sign covered in winding vines. But she was too late; with a double take, Connor set down his end of the painting.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said, walking toward her.

“Don’t let me interrupt.”

“I was just finishing up and about to get some coffee,” he said, calling out to the other guy to take five. “Care to join me?”

“I’m fully caffeinated, thanks,” she said.

“If I can’t interest you in coffee, maybe a little sun and sand? It’s a great beach day.”

A beach day? She barely knew the guy.

“Thanks, but I don’t even own a bathing suit,” she said.

“I promise you won’t get wet,” he said. She startled for a moment at the possible double entendre, but the expression on his face was neutral. Innocent.

She shook her head. “I should get going.”