Once again, he scanned the park, but he still didn’t see Blue, and he wanted to. Somehow he had to make things right. Nita carried her plate to a chair reserved just for her while Syl and Penny Winters took over divvying up the cake for the crowd. Nita began shooting darts at the lead singer of the garage band, who was doing a demented Paul McCartney: “You say it’s your birthday.” Both Riley and the woman in the yellow dress had their backs to him. April gestured toward the band, and Riley broke away with her to get closer.

Syl spotted him as she dropped a square of cake on a paper plate. “Come on over, Dean. The frosting roses’ll go fast. Blue, drag him over here. I’ve got a piece with his name on it.”

He looked around, but he didn’t see Blue anywhere. Then the small woman in the yellow dress turned, and he got his first sack of the season. “Blue?”

For a moment, she looked as vulnerable as the child he’d accused her of being. Then her chin came up. “I know. I’m cute as hell. Do me a favor and let’s not talk about it.”

She was more than cute. April had turned Miss Muffet into a fashion plate. The dress fit her perfectly. It was exactly the right length and had the ideal drape for Blue’s petite frame. The bodice clung to her curves, and the trendy purple wedge sandals emphasized her trim ankles. He’d imagined her like this. That crazy rumpus of a haircut made the most of her delicate bone structure. Her makeup was flattering and ultrafeminine. He’d known it wouldn’t take much to make her look incredible. And she did. Beautiful, stylish, sexy. Pretty much indistinguishable from all the other beautiful, stylish, sexy women he knew. He hated her like this. He wanted his Blue back. When he finally got around to speaking, the wrong thing came out. “Why?”

“I got tired of everybody saying you’re the pretty one.”

He couldn’t even fake a smile. He wanted to stuff her back into her rat-hole clothes, fling those fragile little sandals into the trash. Blue was Blue, one of a kind. She didn’t need all this. But she’d think he’d gone crazy if he blurted that out, so he ran his thumb along her narrow shoulder strap. “April sure knows her stuff.”

“Funny. That’s what she said about you when she saw me. She thought you put me together.”

“You did this yourself?”

“I’m an artist, Boo. This is another canvas for me, and not a very interesting one. Now go suck up to Nita. So far, she’s avoided stabbing anyone, but the afternoon is young.”

“First, you and I need to talk. About yesterday.”

She stiffened. “I can’t leave her alone. You know how she is.”