“Not all night. But because last night you thought I was Emily and because you still wish I were her, I have more questions. A girl’s got to know her competition if she’s to have a chance.”

“I don’t wish you were her.”

“That’s the second lie you’ve told me tonight. You’re not a guy who lies well, which is to your credit even if you lie.”

“Second? What was the first?”

“When you said she left you. Clearly, it was more complicated. She didn’t get bored, not with one like you. And you’re no brute.”

She seemed to be as open and forthright as anyone he had ever known. Yet he sensed that she had been formulating her side of this conversation for much longer than a day—and that his responses did not surprise her.

He said, “More complicated than she just walked out on me? Do you have a different scenario in mind?”

She met his eyes and seemed to gaze into—rather than merely at—him. “Maybe a moment came when she needed you desperately, and you weren’t there. Maybe it haunts you even after all these years. Maybe the guilt you feel for failing her still eats at you like an acid, so that writing about her would be as excruciating as forcing yourself through a mile of razor wire.”

He was shocked speechless. He could not break eye contact. Her blue-steel stare pinned him as if he were a butterfly fixed to a specimen board.

After a damning silence, at last he said, “Very dramatic. You think like a novelist.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, no. I have no desire to be a writer and no talent for it. Anyway, sooner or later, you’ll tell me the full story.”

Her stare no longer chilled him. Her smile was warm. There had been no accusation in what she’d said, only idle speculation. She couldn’t know that she had touched an open wound of truth.

Nevertheless, David was relieved that the waiter arrived just then with his glass of Macallan Scotch over ice.

| 12 |

Once the golden phase had passed, the sun used only the red and orange spectrum of its palette to paint the sky in advance of the long night of darkness, and by reflection the harbor waters caught fire.

Maddison took an almost childlike delight in the spectacle, and David found pleasure in watching her enjoy the sunset. Emily, too, had been charmed by nature in its ordinary extraordinariness, and he had liked to watch her when she was thus enchanted and unaware that she bewitched his eyes.

This evening, as on the previous night, Maddison dressed well but almost demurely. A tailored sapphire-blue suit that matched the darker striations of her remarkable eyes. A crisp white blouse.

Her form was exquisite, but unlike most of the other young women of her time, she did not advertise her charms with revealed cleavage or with jeans that were in fact leggings.