Perhaps Gregory picked up on some of the tension between them. He jumped in quickly. "We decided at the last minute to get a pizza at Celentano's. I'm sorry we didn't know you were here. Ivy. It would have been great if you'd come with us."
He was rewarded with two glares: Suzanne's, for implying that dinner would have been great if Ivy had come; Ivy's, for suggesting that she'd enjoy being with them on a date. Hadn't he ever heard that three's a crowd?
Gregory unwrapped himself from Suzanne, then retreated toward the car. Slipping one hand in his pocket, he propped the other on the open door, trying to look casual.
"I can see there's going to be some talking here tonight, some dirt-dishing. Maybe I should leave before I get hooked by the soap opera."
You are the soap opera. Ivy thought.
"You may as well," Suzanne replied. "Most guys are amateurs at talking."
Gregory laughed — not as much at ease as he pretended. Ivy thought — then rattled his keys at them and left.
"I'm beat," Suzanne said, throwing herself down on the front steps and pulling Ivy down next to her.
"Manhattan in the summer—1 tell you, it brings out the crazies. You should have seen all the people at Times Square, waiting for another vision of—" She stopped herself, but Ivy knew what she was about to say. She had already read about die angelic Barbra Streisand.
Suzanne reached out then and touched Ivy's face very, very gently. "Aren't they getting tired of seeing you in the emergency room?"
Ivy laughed a little.
"How're you feeling?" Suzanne asked.
"AH right… really," she added when she saw the doubt in Suzanne's eyes.
"Are you dreaming about this now, too?"
"I haven't so far," said Ivy.
"You're tough, girl," Suzanne said, shaking her head. "And I bet you're hungry and ready to kill me."
"Very hungry and almost ready," Ivy replied as Suzanne pushed herself up from the steps and dug in her purse for her house keys. Peppermint, Suzanne's Pomeranian, greeted them with yaps of joy, anticipating dinner. They headed straight for the kitchen.
While Suzanne fed Peppermint, Ivy explored the Goldstein's refrigerator, which was always well stocked.
She settled for a large bowl of homemade soup. Suzanne set a pan of brownies and some lemon frosted cupcakes on die table between them. She cut herself a brownie, then swiveled back and forth in her chair. "I've got him, Ivy," she said. "Gregory's definitely hooked. Now all I have to do is reel him in."
"I thought you were going to reel him in last week, or maybe the week before," Ivy recalled.
"That's why I need your help," Suzanne said quickly. "I'm never sure with Gregory. I have to know. Ivydid he go out with any girls this weekend? I mean, with me being away and him having to come home because of you, I wondered whether he got out his little date book and…"
Ivy chased noodles around with her soup spoon. "I don't know," she said.
"How can you not know? You live with him!" "He was home Saturday morning. In the afternoon we played tennis and went shopping. At night he went to a movie with Philip and me. He was out for a while on Sunday afternoon, but the rest of the time he was with Philip and me."
"And you. It's a good thing you're my best friend and Gregory's stepsister," Suzanne remarked, "or else I'd be insanely jealous and suspicious. Lucky for both of us, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Ivy replied without enthusiasm. "How about Monday? Did he go out then?"
"For a while in the morning, then late last night. Suzanne, I don't feel right reporting on him to you."
"Well, whose side are you on?" her friend asked.
Ivy crumbled a cracker in her soup. "I didn't know there were sides."
"Who do you feel most loyal to, me or Gregory?" Suzanne persisted. "You know, in the beginning I thought you didn't like him. In fact, I thought you couldn't stand him but didn't say anything because you didn't want to hurt my feelings."
Ivy nodded. "I didn't know him very well then. But I do now, and since I care about him and I care about you, and since you're chasing him—" "I've caught him. Ivy."
"Since you've caught him, and you hooked me years ago, how can there be sides?"
"Don't be so naive," Suzanne replied. "There are always sides in love." She chopped away at the brownies in the pan. "Love is war."
"Don't, Suzanne."
She stopped chopping. "Don't what?"
"Don't do what you're doing to him."
Suzanne sat back in her chair. "Just what are you saying?" There was a noticeable chill in her voice.
"I'm saying don't play games with him. Don't push him around the way you've pushed^ around the other guys. He deserves better treatment, much better."
Suzanne was silent for a moment. "You know what you need. Ivy? A boyfriend of your own."
Ivy stared down at her soup.
"And Gregory agrees with me on that."
Ivy glanced up sharply.
"He thinks Will is perfect for you."
"Tristan was perfect for me."
"Was," said Suzanne. "Was. Life goes on, and you've got to go on with it!"
"I will when I'm ready," Ivy replied.
"You've got to let go of the past." Suzanne laid her hand on Ivy's wrist. "You've got to stop acting like a little girl, holding on to the hand of big brother Gregory."
Ivy looked away.
"You've got to start getting out and seeing other guys. Will's a start."
"Butt out, Suzanne."
"Gregory and I can set you up."
"I said, butt out!"
"All right!"
Suzanne sliced an ultrathin piece of brownie, then pointed the knife at Ivy. "But you butt out, too, and don't tell me what to do. I'm warning you now, don't interfere with me and Gregory."
What did she mean by interfere? Ivy wondered. Don't give her advice — or stop holding on to Gregory's hand?
They both stared down at their food in silence. Peppermint sat between their chairs, looking from one to the other. Then somehow, after what seemed an interminable silence, they found their way onto safer ground, talking about the wedding Suzanne had been to. But as Suzanne talked on and Ivy nodded, all Ivy could think of was that one way or the other, she was going to lose someone who meant a lot to her.
"Give us a few more minutes, Philip," Ivy said. "We want to look at the rest of these paintings."
"I think I'll go find Gregory."
Ivy reached out quickly and caught her brother by the back of his T-shirt. "Not today. You're stuck with Beth and me."
For the last four days Ivy had spent little time with Gregory, seeing him only at occasional family meals and in chance passings in the hall. Whenever their paths did cross, she'd been careful not to start a long conversation with him. When he'd sought her out — and the more she'd avoided him the more he had sought her out— she'd claimed she was on her way up to the music room to practice.
Gregory looked puzzled and a little angry about the distance she was putting between them. But what else could she do? They had grown too close. Without meaning to. Ivy had come to depend on him. If she didn't back off now, she might lose Suzanne as a friend.
Suzanne and Beth had met Gregory, Philip, and Ivy in town that afternoon, at the bottom of Main Street, where the festival began. Suzanne had immediately draped her arm across Gregory's back and slipped her hand into his back pocket, walking him away from Ivy and Philip. Ivy had responded by steering Philip in another direction. Beth was left standing on the street corner.
"Come with us," Ivy had called to her. "We're going to see the art."
The display was set up along a narrow lane of old shops that ran back from Main Street. An assortment of townspeople — women pushing baby strollers,' old ladies in straw hats, kids with their faces painted, and two guys dressed as clowns-walked along looking at the pictures, trying to guess who the artists were. Each picture was tided and numbered, but the artists' names were masked for the judging that would take place later that day.