There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. Andrea waited, watching the swirling red and blue lights blink against the pavement. Jerry sighed. “You’re a lot more forthright than your dad, you know,” he said finally. “A better person.”

“Thanks,” she said stiffly, though she felt touched. She liked this notion of herself.

“Do what you think is right.” Jerry sounded resigned.

And then he hung up. The phone was hot in her hands. It felt like the end of something. She probably wouldn’t see Jerry after this if she decided to talk. She mourned that for a moment and wondered if there was some kind of middle ground. But then she thought of telling Arthur about this, years from now. She would want to tell him the version where she did the right thing, not that she’d kept her mouth shut.

Next, she located Reginald’s name in the contacts. He was still under Blue Iguana Landscaping. Her heart thudded as she lifted the phone to her ear and listened to it ring. Reginald answered gleefully, sounding happy to hear from her. It occurred to her their date was only a few days before. It felt like years.

“Hey,” Andrea said, unable to shake the jitteriness from her voice. She wasn’t even sure what she said next. An amalgam of speeches she’d meant to say for months now—the whole truth about her family, her legacy, even Roger.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted when she was finished. “I’m so, so sorry, but I wanted you to know.”

Reginald paused before speaking. “What are you sorry for?”

“For not telling the truth.” Then Andrea tried a joke: “But women can apologize way too much. A bad habit.”

Reginald laughed. Andrea wanted to sink to the grass with gratitude—he could still laugh with her. “Well, I’m sorry, too,” he said. “Because . . . I kind of already figured it out. You reminded me of someone. Your eyes. And my mom used to read the sorts of magazines your family was in. Vanity Fair, the tabloids, that sort of stuff. I hunted around. Maybe that makes me an asshole. But I put two and two together.”

“Oh,” Andrea said. Then she laughed. “I guess I’m not as stealthy as I thought.”

She felt like a dolt, and also a little tricked, but on the heels of that: Reginald doesn’t care. He knew what she was and where she was coming from, and it didn’t matter. She tipped her head upward and looked at the clouds.

“So do you want to come over later?” she asked him. “Once the police let me go?”

“The police?” Reginald sounded worried. “What are you doing with the police?”