Devon’s face formed into an expression of pure disdain. “If I wanted one, I’d say so.”
“Thank you, Sandy,” Scott said. “I can finish up here.”
I didn’t blame Scott for dismissing her. There had been something challenging about her comment to Devon. If Sandy was embarrassed about being banished, she didn’t show it. She set the knife in the sink, wiped her hands on a dishrag, and quietly made her way down the stairs.
It took a moment or two to recover from the awkward lull, but then conversation started up again with Whitney describing the origins of red velvet cake. Cap and Devon went off to shoot pool, with Tommy and Tory watching. Christian and Richard—who’d refilled his wine glass twice since I’d been there—dragged out a backgammon board. Scott, Jessie, Whitney, and I continued to hang by the island, where we lobbed questions at our host about how he’d found the property and managed to haul two different barns here. I excused myself at one point to use the powder room on the ground floor, and when I emerged a couple of minutes later, Jessie was waiting in ambush for me.
“So what do you think?” she whispered devilishly.
“Interesting crowd,” I said. “Should we plan on flashing our boobs tomorrow just to keep up?”
“What about Scott? What do you think of him?”
“Older than I’d pictured, but hunky—and very charming.”
“Yeah, I know. Oh, by the way, you know who Tommy is, right?”
“A tattoo aficionado?”
“The lead guitarist for the band Tough Love.”
“Oh, right, I thought the name was familiar, but I’m not much of a heavy metal fan.”
“He’s something else too—Devon’s ex-lover. They broke up about four months ago.”
She was about to elaborate, but Whitney suddenly descended the stairs, announcing she was heading to bed.
“My asthma acts up in cold weather,” she said. “And I need to get plenty of sleep.”
We returned upstairs. Cap, who was now absentmindedly watching the backgammon game, yawned and announced he was going to take a quick walk around the premises and then turn in. Devon was the next to retire, offering only a desultory good-night. Richard staggered off about twenty minutes later, followed by Christian, Tommy, and Tory, and then it was just Jessie, Scott, and I standing at the island. I suddenly realized that I’d better beat it before Jessie strangled me. I made a point of glancing at my watch, yawning, and announcing my need to hit the sack.
“If you’re interested, Sandy’s husband Ralph is leading a couple of hikes tomorrow,” Scott said as I slid off the stool. “There’s one at eight thirty, and if that’s too beastly an hour, there’ll be another in the afternoon.”
“I actually think I’ll do the early one,” I said.
“And if you’re up for a massage at any point, there’s a sign-up sheet by the door on the lower level of the guest barn. I have a local masseuse coming in for the day.”
I wished them good night and scurried out of there. Jessie bit her lip and shot me an amused look, as if she wasn’t sure what was in store, but she was game to see how it unfolded.
Before heading up to my room, I decided to pop outside for a blast of fresh air. Partly it was because I was feeling restless, but I also wanted a good look at the night sky, so far from the ambient light of Manhattan. My father, who died when I was twelve, had been a real naturalist and often took my brothers and me on walks through woods all over Massachusetts, teaching us about things like birds and turtles and where you could find the planets in the sky. Being out in the country always brought him close to mind.
The night seemed even more dazzling now than it had earlier, probably because most of the lights in the barns had been turned off. Once again my eyes were drawn toward the moon. It was still gleaming in the sky, higher than earlier, but now I noticed a filmy ring of ice crystals around it. Though some people assumed it was an old wives’ tale, a ring like that really was a harbinger of rain—or if the weather was as cold as it was tonight, snow. When moisture gathers high in the atmosphere, you can see it reflecting the light of the moon.
Staring at the moon made me suddenly recall Scott’s mention of a telescope on the deck. Wrapping my arms around myself for warmth, I made my way toward the rear of the barn. The coyotes were obviously sated; the only night sounds now were the snap of frozen twigs under my footfall.
But then there was another sound, a woman speaking—and it was coming from where the deck must be. Curious, I tried to step gently so I wouldn’t be heard. As I neared the end of the barn wall, I spotted the edge of the deck. Cautiously I leaned forward and peered around the corner of the barn. Devon was standing there in her pea coat, talking to Cap. Though they weren’t that near me, their voices carried clearly in the crisp night air.
“Devon, please,” Cap said.
“You have to tell her,” Devon declared petulantly. “You said you would, but you haven’t.”
I jerked back my upper body and, after quietly taking two steps in reverse, stopped in my tracks. It wasn’t polite to eavesdrop, but as a reporter, my good-girl instincts had long since left the building.
“I will tell her,” Cap said. “I promise. You know I always take care of things, and I will this time too.”
“When?” Devon demanded.
“Very soon. But you know as well as I do that we need to handle this carefully, or it could all blow up.”
Devon digested his comment, then spit out the word “Fine,” in a tone that implied that she expected results.
Were Devon and Cap having an affair? Wow, that could add some spice to this crazy little house party. I heard a scraping of shoes on the deck, as if they were about to move. I quickly retraced my steps around the big barn and made my way over to the smaller one.
Back in my room, I felt a sudden urge to call Beau. I wondered if he had decided to come back Saturday after all. But it was close to ten in Sedona, and if he was leaving tomorrow, he may have gone to bed by now. I would have to wait until tomorrow to talk to him. I sent a text that he’d find in the morning. Just a quick hello.
I pulled on my flannel jammies, slipped into bed, and pondered again what I’d just witnessed on the deck. The conversation had suggested something secretive and intimate. It didn’t sync with the picture presented by Cap and Whitney earlier in the evening. They’d acted like the devoted couple—they’d even snuggled up to each other a couple of times, her arm snaked around his waist.
And if Devon was having an affair with Cap, how did that explain the sexual tension between her and Tommy? You could almost feel the heat when those two were within five feet of each other—and clearly Tory wasn’t amused. Maybe Devon was flirting with her ex to make Cap jealous.
Wouldn’t it be wild, I thought as I drifted off to sleep, if things came to a head this weekend?
I awoke the next morning just before eight. I checked my BlackBerry but there was no message yet from Beau. After dressing in a thick sweater, jeans, and hiking boots, I headed over to the big barn. Based on the bacon-y breakfast smells that greeted me when I stepped into the foyer, I expected to discover a handful of people upstairs, but it was only Richard, hunched over his iPad at the island, reading the Times from what I could see, and Sandy stirring something on the stove. She was wearing a huge tartan shirt that made her look as if she should be draped over the back of a car at a tailgate picnic.
Sandy offered the same perfunctory smile she’d flashed last night, the kind with just the mouth, not the eyes. Richard glanced up from his iPad. He looked bleary eyed, like someone in need of the hair of the dog that bit him rather than the gooey pile of French toast and syrup on his plate.