A handsome man opened the door and smiled quizzically.

“Can I help you?”

“Um, are you Guy?”

“Nope, that’s my husband. Want me to get him?”

“No. I need to tell you that your husband is a lying, cheating sleaze. I’m so sorry, because I know this is an awful thing to hear, but I wanted you to know.”

The man’s face went tight and his eyes narrowed. It was not the face of someone shocked at hearing unexpected news but of someone getting confirmation of something suspected or feared.

“Who’s there, honey?” a voice called, and then Guy appeared.

“I’m a friend of Truman’s, you scuzzbucket,” Greta said.

The man’s face was a mask of calm. “Who?”

It was chilling.

“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I’m really sorry you’re married to a dick, but I’m sure you can do better. Your feelings are important, and you don’t have to put up with garbage!”

Greta’s heart was pounding, and she knew she sounded ridiculous, but she didn’t care.

“Happy Chanukah!” she yelled, and then she ran down the path and threw herself back in Ramona’s car.

Ramona’s eyes were wide and she was grinning hugely.

“Daaaaaaaamn, that was amazing!”

“Drive!”

Ramona peeled out of a stop and headed for the highway. With the windows down and Garden Gate blasting, Greta had never felt more alive.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Ramona said. “That was so deeply unlike you, and I fucking loved it!”

“He deserved to know his husband’s a piece of shit, and that asshat doesn’t deserve to get away with breaking everyone’s heart! Truman told me his biggest regret was that he hadn’t told Guy’s husband. Now he knows.”

Conviction, adrenaline, and shock at herself all mixed together, and Greta grinned at Ramona.

She leaned toward the open window and yelled, “Happy Chanukah, New Orleans!” out the window as they turned onto Washington Avenue.

“Okay, okay, not the place anymore,” Ramona said, rolling up the windows as people turned, trying to figure out if they should be offended by whatever had been yelled at them. “Careful your enthusiasm for righting wrongs doesn’t turn you into a total asshole.”

Greta smiled. “I’ll remember that,” she said.

A Message from Ramona

RAMONA to GREAT!A RUSSAKOFF

You got this, dude. No matter what they say, you know you’re doing the right thing! Text me from the airport and I’ll pick you up.

Chapter 27

Greta

Greta had kept her conviction through the flight, the ride from the airport, and the ferry. But when she stepped onto Owl Island, malaise dropped over her like a fog. This place trapped her, like a heroine in some gothic novel.

She hadn’t told her family she was coming, preferring the element of surprise. Even though she’d only been gone for three weeks, it felt like everything had changed.