As Tristan left the darkroom he heard Lacey's soap opera voice. "And so our two heroes part," she said, "blinded by love, neither of them listening to the wise and beautiful Lacey"-she hummed a little-"who, by the way, is getting a broken heart of her own. But who cares about Lacey?" she asked sadly. "Who cares about Lacey?"
Ivy sat at the kitchen table glancing over legal forms that she had just pulled out of a manila envelopePhilip's adoption papers. Across from her, her brother and his best friend Sammy dug spoons into a peanut butter jar.
Sammy was a short, funny-looking kid whose hair stood straight up from his head like bristly red grass. Ivy saw him eyeing her. He nudged Philip. "Ask her. Ask her."
"Ask me what?"
"Sammy wants to meet Tristan," Philip said. "But I can't get him to come.
Do you know where he is?"
Ivy instinctively glanced over her shoulder, but Philip assured her, "It's okay. Mom's upstairs, and Gregory likes to hear about angels now."
"He does?" Ivy asked with surprise.
Philip nodded.
"I really want to see an angel," Sammy said, pulling a little camera out of his grubby school pack.
Ivy smiled. "I think Tristan's resting now," she said, then she turned to Philip. "What kind of angel things have you and Gregory been talking about?"
"He asked me about Tristan."
"What exactly did he want to know?" Ivy asked.
She had suspected that the train incident haunted Gregory. After all, there was no way Philip could have gotten to the station that quickly without help from someone. Did Gregory guess that he was up against more than herself, more than just a person?
"He asked me what Tristan looked like," Philip told her. "And how I know when he's there."
"And how to get him to come," Sammy said. "Remember, he asked that."
"He wanted to know if you ever talked to Tristan," Philip added.
Ivy tapped the manila envelope against the table. "When did you talk about all this?"
"Last night," her brother replied, "when we were playing in the tree house."
Ivy frowned. She didn't like the idea of Gregory's playing with Philip up in the tree house, where one accident had already occurred during the summer.
She glanced down at the adoption forms. Andrew hadn't told Gregory that he was about to make Philip his legal son. Ivy wondered if Andrew had the same kind of fears that she did.
"When will Tristan be finished with his nap?" Sammy asked.
"I don't really know," Ivy replied.
"I have a flashlight, in case I see him at night," he told her.
"Good idea," Ivy said with a smile. She watched as the two boys licked the last bit of peanut butter off their spoons and ran outside.
Since Saturday night, she too had been trying to reach Tristan. Rumors about the party were flying at school. Gregory and she had managed to avoid each other in the halls. So had she and Suzanne, but while Gregory slipped past Ivy, Suzanne dramatically played out each snub. Her anger at Ivy was obvious to everyone.
Ivy was relieved when Beth had told her that Gregory and Suzanne were going to the football game that afternoon. Having slept little in the past two nights, she could finally rest, knowing that Gregory wouldn't walk in on her. Even though she locked her bedroom door now, she never really felt safe.
Ivy slipped the envelope and forms in her stack of schoolbooks and was about to head upstairs when she heard a car pull up behind the house. It sounded like Gregory's BMW. Her first instinct was to rush up to her room, but she didn't want Gregory to think she was afraid of him. Sitting back down, she opened the newspaper and hunched over the table, pretending to read. The kitchen door was pushed open, band instantly Ivy smelled the perfume. "Suzanne."
Suzanne responded with a sullen look.
"Hi," Gregory said. His tone of voice was neither warm nor cold, and his face was expressionless-though ready to flash into a smile if anyone else happened to walk into the kitchen. Suzanne continued to look at Ivy with pouting lips.
"This is a surprise," Ivy said. "Beth said you were going to the football game."
"Suzanne was bored, and I had to pick up something," Gregory told her. He turned his back to Ivy, reached into the cupboard, and pulled out a tall copper cup. "Would you get her a drink?" he asked, handing Ivy the cup.
"Sure." Gregory exited the kitchen quickly.
Ivy checked the refrigerator for sodas. "Sorry, no cold ones," she told Suzanne.
Suzanne remained silent.
Except you, Ivy said to herself, then reached under the counter for a bottle. She wondered why Gregory would leave them alone to talk. Perhaps he was standing outside the kitchen door, waiting to hear what she would say. Maybe this was a test to see if she'd tell Suzanne what she knew about him.
"How are you doing?" Ivy asked.
"Fine."
A one-word answer, but it was a start. Ivy dropped some ice cubes into the soda and handed it to Suzanne. "At school a lot of kids were talking about your party. Everyone had a good time."
"Downstairs and upstairs," Suzanne replied.
Ivy remained silent.
"How bad was your hangover?" Suzanne asked.
"I didn't have one," Ivy told her.
"Oh, that's right, you got rid of all the booze in you."
Ivy bit her lip.
"I couldn't sleep in my room Saturday night," Suzanne said, and walked around the kitchen, swirling the drink in her cup.
"I'm sorry about that, Suzanne. I really am. But the truth is, I didn't have anything to drink," Ivy said firmly.
"I want to believe you." Suzanne's lip trembled. "I want you and Gregory to tell me I dreamed it all."
"You know he won't. And I won't, either."
Suzanne nodded and dropped her chin. "I know everybody cries when they break up with a guy. But I never thought I'd get out the tissues because I was splitting up with you."
"You've known me longer than any of your guys," Ivy replied quickly. "You trusted me for ten years. Then one guy says something, and you don't."
"I saw you with my own eyes!"
"What did you see?" Ivy almost shouted. "You saw what he wanted you to see, what he told you to see.
How can I convince you-" "You can stop fooling around with my boyfriend, that's how! You can keep your hot little hands where they belong!" Suzanne took a large gulp of her drink. "You're making a fool of yourself, Ivy, and you're doing it at my expense."
"Suzanne, why can't you admit that it's at least possible that Gregory was coming on to me?"
"Liar," Suzanne said. "I'll never trust you again." She took another angry gulp of soda, leaving a print of her lipstick on the shiny metal.
"I warned you, Ivy. But you didn't listen to me. You didn't care enough to."
"I care about you more than you realize," Ivy said, taking a step toward Suzanne.
Suzanne turned on her heel. "Tell Gregory I'm on the patio," she said as she walked out the kitchen door.
Ivy let her friend go. It's useless, she thought. He's poisoned Suzanne's mind. Fighting back the tears, Ivy rushed out of the kitchen toward the stairs. She ran headlong into Gregory and pushed past him. She didn't bother telling him where Suzanne had gone. She was sure he had been listening to every word.
Ivy didn't pause to catch her breath until she reached her music room.
She slammed the door closed behind her and leaned against it. Keep cool, keep cool, she said to herself.
But she couldn't stop shaking. She had lost all hope that she could win against Gregory. She needed help, needed someone to assure her that things would get better. She remembered the day Will had driven her back to the train station, how he had believed in her and given her the confidence to believe in herself.
"I'll find Will," she said aloud, then turned toward the door and was surprised to see the shimmering gold light. "Tristan!"