Ivy sneaked a peek at Will, embarrassed, but he didn't look at all sheepish. He was staring at the dog, his mouth drawn up in a little smile. "You can put words in a dog's mouth, angel," he said, "but not in mine."
"You're no fun! Even if you do have nice buns," Lacey added.
"I thought they were great$ buns," Will said.
Lacey laughed. Ivy spotted her then, right behind them. Apparently she could throw her voice. Now the soft purple shine moved around in front of them.
"Her name's Lacey," Ivy told Will.
"I'm disappointed in you two," Lacey said. "I keep waiting for you to get things going, but you just tippytoe around each other. As a romance, you get two thumbs down. I'm going to hang out with the kids by the pond."
Will shrugged. "Have a good time."
"Something tells me Peppermint won't be the only one taking a swim tonight," Ivy remarked under her breath.
The purple mist drifted back to them. "It's amazing how much we think alike, chick," Lacey said. "But the fact is, Tristan is still in the darkness, so I'll probably behave myself tonight. Without him around to fuss at me, it's not as much fun."
Ivy smiled a little.
"See, I miss him, too," Lacey said. For a moment her voice sounded different to Ivy, girlish and wistful.
Then the tone became theatrical again: "Whoops, here she comes. Warning, ten feet behind you-chick with a capital. I'm all gone, boys and girls."
But Lacey didn't leave immediately. "Mommy, I went swimming! I had so much fun!" Peppermint "said" in a voice loud enough for Suzanne to hear.
The purple shimmer slipped away as Suzanne came around to the front of the bench.
"Pep! Oh, Pep!" She felt the dog's wet fur. "You bad girl. I'm going to put you in your kennel."
Then she saw Ivy's mud-splattered skirt and top. "Ivy!"
"You going to put me in the kennel, too?" Ivy asked.
Will laughed.
Suzanne shook her head. "I'm so sorry. Bad girl!"
Peppermint lowered her head contritely, until Suzanne turned to Ivy. Then her head popped up, and her tail wagged again.
"It's my fault," Ivy said. "I called Peppermint while she was swimming.
It's no big deal-all I need is a little soap."
"I'll get it for you," Suzanne said.
"No, it's okay," Ivy replied, smiling. "I know where it is." She stood up.
"If you want to throw your clothes in the wash," Suzanne told her, "wear something of mine. You know which is the clean stuff."
"Whatever isn't on the floor," they both said at the same time, and laughed.
Ivy started toward the house and heard Suzanne ask Will how he made that dog voice. She was still smiling to herself when she entered the house.
Then she hurried down the hall, glancing around for Gregory, hoping he didn't see her heading upstairs.
Ivy relaxed when she reached Suzanne's bedroom, a room she had spent countless hours in, gossiping, reading magazines, trying on makeup. The large, square room was furnished in dark polished wood and carpeted wall to wall in a pure, plush white. Suzanne and Ivy always joked mat the best way to keep the carpet clean was to walk on her clothes. But that day Ivy removed her shoes. The room was picked up, with the green silk coverlet pulled smooth on the bed and just one filmy blouse tossed aside. Ivy took off her stained shirt, slipped on the blouse without buttoning it, and headed for Suzanne's bathroom.
The soap worked well on her knit top. She squeezed the top out in a towel, then hung it on a hanger.
Having rigged up the hair dryer as she had seen Suzanne do, she turned it on to dry the knit while she worked on her skirt. Ivy was standing close to sink, pulling up her pale denim skirt and scrubbing it hard, when she felt the hot air on her back and her hair and blouse blow loose. She glanced up quickly.
In the mirror she saw Gregory, aiming the hair dryer at her and laughing.
Ivy wrapped the open blouse around her as if it were a coat. "It's the top that needs drying, not me," she said crisply.
Gregory laughed, flicked off the dryer and dropped it, letting it dangle from its electric cord.
"I'm losing patience," he said.
Ivy stared at him wide-eyed.
"I'm getting tired of chasing you," he said.
She bit her lip. "I don't know why you keep trying."
He tilted back his head, studying her as if he were making some kind of decision. He moved close to her.
She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Liar," he whispered in her ear. "Every guy out there would be chasing you if they thought they had a chance."
Ivy's mind raced. How much had Gregory drunk? What kind of game was he playing?
His arms encircled her. Ivy fought the panic that was growing inside her.
She could not get away from him, so she put her arms around him lightly, trying to draw him out of the secluded bathroom. She had left the bedroom door open, and if she made it to where they could be seen and heard-He moved easily with her into the bedroom. Then she saw that the door to the hall had been closed. He started pushing her toward the bed.
He can't kill me, not here, she thought as she was pushed back. It'd be too easy to trace him. She stepped back again. His fingerprints are on the hair dryer and the door, she reminded herself, stepping back and back. And someone could walk in at any moment, she told herself. He moved with her, so close she couldn't see his face.
Ivy tumbled onto the bed and stared up at him. Gregory's eyes were like hot gray coals. Color crept high in his cheeks. He's too smart to pull a gun, she thought. He'll jam a capsule down my throat.
Then Gregory was on top of her. Ivy struggled against him. Gregory laughed at her efforts as she squirmed beneath him, then he groaned softly. "I love you," he said.
Ivy held still, and he lifted his head, staring down at her, his eyes burning with a strange light. "I want you.
I've wanted you for a long time."
Was this some kind of terrible joke?