“But shouldn’t he just know? I know I like him. Why is this so hard?”

“Look, you saw Spencer in high school. He had loads of girlfriends, and they were always crazy and passionate, and then they would split up in a week. It doesn’t always happen fast. Sometimes, you have to give yourself a chance to get to know someone, to figure out what you really want.”

It was very much Lola’s style to use Spencer as an example, pointing out things he had done wrong in the past, but she said it without any judgment in her voice. In fact, Scarlett got the feeling that she wasn’t really talking about Spencer, or her, or Eric anymore. She was talking about Chip.

“What do you think you’re going to do?” Lola asked softly.

There was a sharp knock, and once again, Spencer broke in just as this question was floating in the air. It was like he knew on some level that she needed rescuing from her own deep confusion. He had worked a full shift on no sleep, after a very long day, and it was showing in his face. Despite the comment she had just made about his past relationships, Lola gave him a look of respect as he yanked off his sopping T-shirt. Evidently, the punching thing had made a good impression.

“Any news?” he asked. “Anything online? Why aren’t you looking this up?”

Scarlett pulled the computer over from her bedside stand while Spencer wrung his shirt out into their wicker wastebasket.

“Nothing, nothing…wait…Something titled ‘Hotel Elsinore.’ It says…”

She skimmed down the part that explained the strange circumstances of the play in the hotel, blah, blah…

“Here we go. ‘Eric Hall and Spencer Martin performed some of the best physical comedy I’ve seen on stage in years. Martin, in particular, is spectacularly gifted in everything from combat to clown, with razor-sharp timing. He is certain to be an actor to watch.’ That’s good!”

“Spectacularly gifted,” Spencer said, pulling his damp shirt back on. “Razor-sharp timing? Actor to watch? Was that The New York Times? The Village Voice?”

“It was some guy named Ed,” Scarlett said.

“Ed?” Spencer repeated.

“On a blog called Treading the Boards with Ed Mordes.”

Spencer came over and took the computer to read the article for himself. Lola started messing around inside her special drawer again. She stared at something inside of it very intently, and then closed it.

“I think it’s great, whoever he is,” she said, turning around. “It’s a great review. I’m going to take a bath—I’ve been cleaning all morning. Let me know if you find anything else.”

When she had taken her robe and gone next door and started running water, Scarlett got up and quietly slid the drawer open.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked.

Scarlett shh-ed him and pointed at the wall. Spencer nodded in understanding of the fact that Lola could hear them—but still looked puzzled by her actions. Scarlett carefully pushed aside the pack of fabulous wipes and some mysterious tubes of cream. She knew what she was looking for the moment she laid eyes on it. It was a dark red box marked “Cartier.” She removed it carefully from the drawer and brought it over to Spencer.