Nora turned to me. “Is he having trouble?”

“N-no!” I sputtered, pinned. “Not at all. You know Oscar, he’s got, like, super-human confidence.”

“As he should.” She pressed her lips together. “But keep an eye on him, Ruby. If he looks like he needs a lifeline—come to me first.”

Um. Instead of Dad? Was that what she . . . ?

Before I could answer, she patted my hand and kept us walking. I skipped to catch up—she had a fast stride for someone so short. We hit the fenced edge of the park and I glanced inside. The gate was usually locked, available only to those residents lucky enough to have keys, but it was flung wide today, a group of teenagers sitting on the pathway with sketchpads while a teacher motioned to the trees, tracing lines in the air with his fingers.

“Oh.” Nora stopped walking. “They’re not supposed to be in there.” She turned to me, eyes huge. “Do you think I should call someone?”

She looked like a child, asking permission.

“No,” I blurted, surprised. “That’s not—”

“You’re right, they’re harmless.” Nora glanced at her phone for the time, slid it back into her bag. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe this, but I’m going to have to table our lunch.”

Table, meaning eat at a table, or . . . ?

“Something’s popped up. It’s urgent, obviously, or I wouldn’t dream of canceling on you . . .”

Canceling. You have got to be kidding me.

“But are we good? I really do feel terrible for putting you on the spot like that.”

She peered up at me with big eyes and I finally understood Alice’s “bunnies in a meadow” comment.

“Don’t feel terrible,” I said. “We’re good.”

Nora stepped to the curb and waved for a taxi. As the cab rolled away, I wondered why she wasn’t taking her town car—and why she’d just told Stephen she’d be having lunch with me.

It’s none of my business, I told myself.

And Oscar is none of hers.

•   •   •

He was Jules’s business, apparently.

“You prissy little Puritan, I want some goddamned details!” she snapped, jogging beside me along the mossy edge of the Turtle Pond. “Give me a base.”

“What grade are we in?” I laughed—and then marveled at the fact that I now had enough stamina to laugh two miles into the morning jog. “Third.”

“You or him?”

“Sort of both?”

“Nice!”

We veered right, through the trees toward Belvedere Castle.

“So why are you in such a huff? Or is it a tizzy?” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m leaning toward huff.”

“Because . . .” I sighed. It did, in fact, sound like a huff. “That was Sunday night. We hung out Monday too, and got, um, interrupted, and I’d at least expected him to text me later. I’d laid it out there for him. But it’s Wednesday—”

“Thursday.”