Lost Along the Way(72)

“Hey, Sheila,” he said, throwing the bowls on the counter and trying to remove himself from her grasp.

Sheila released her arms from around his neck and inhaled deeply. “You smell great—what is that?”

“Soap. And maybe some salt water. I was down at the beach earlier. I went surfing this morning.”

“You always smell so good. How come straight guys don’t ever smell the way you do?”

“I have no idea,” Nick answered. It was obvious he wasn’t all that interested in talking to Sheila, either.

“How’d the waves treat you?”

“Pretty good, actually. Sebastian and I had a nice time down there. What’s new with you?” He eyed the middle-aged woman working the cash register as if trying to encourage her to ring him up faster. Meg giggled, watching Nick make small talk.

“Nothing much,” she said. “We’re in the usual post–Labor Day slump at the coffeehouse. It’s funny, by the end of the summer we’re all so sick of the crowds, we just want them to leave. Then, when they do, we remember all the money they spend. Now I’m complaining that I don’t make tips, and the workday seems to stretch on for six years.”

“The grass is always greener, I guess.”

“I guess so,” she agreed.

“Say hello to your parents for me. I have to run,” Nick said, trying to get away from her as fast as his good manners would allow.

“Will do. Oh, wait, I forgot! You’ll never guess who I saw the other day in the coffeehouse!”

“Gwyneth Paltrow?” Nick guessed, though he was clearly running out of patience. “She has a house out here, Sheila. At some point that specific celebrity sighting has got to get old.”

“No. Not her. Jane Logan!” she hissed, like saying the name left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Do you believe that? What do you think she’s doing out here? Her husband ruins people and she comes out to the Hamptons to relax in some beachfront mansion somewhere? That woman is even more evil than I thought.”

Meg held her breath. She’d never particularly liked Sheila, and now she was pretty sure she hated her. She gripped Cara’s hand, and Cara firmly squeezed it back.

“I don’t know who that is,” Nick lied. “Anyway, I’ve never been much into celebrity sightings. They bore me. Sorry.” Nick turned to walk away, but Sheila kept talking.

“You do too know who she is! She’s the wife of that Wall Street * who stole from all those people. She’s all over the papers. Don’t you watch the news? She came in with two other women. One of them looked familiar—I’ve definitely seen her around before. The other one actually spilled hot tea all over Jane. She claimed it was an accident, but it probably wasn’t. I’m sure more than a few people would love the chance to inflict physical pain on that woman.”

“Sheila, do yourself a favor and stop spying on people. One day you’re going to find yourself overhearing things you don’t want to know. Trust me. Besides, it probably wasn’t even her.”

“It was her! Here, look!” Sheila removed her cell phone from her purse and clicked on a picture. She showed it to him.

“You took a picture of her?”

“Oh shit,” Cara said as they watched Nick snatch the phone from Sheila’s hand and stare at whatever picture she’d snapped while they were arguing.

“We have to do something,” Cara whispered. “What if she sells it to the newspapers?”

“She’s not going to sell it to the papers,” Meg whispered back. “She probably just wants to show it to her friends. She’s an idiot, but she’s harmless. Trust me.”

“You’re right, I guess that is her,” Nick said, pretending to look closer at the picture.

“I told you so! I haven’t showed it to anyone yet, but I was thinking of calling the New York Post. I could probably make some good money off this, right? She doesn’t deserve any discretion. It’s not like I’m taking pictures of Martha Stewart and throwing them on Facebook or anything. This is legit news. People have been trying to get shots of her for weeks! How much do you think I could get?”

“Okay, I might have been wrong,” Meg whispered.

“I don’t know. Is this the only one you have?” Nick asked casually.

“Yeah. Maybe I can send it to more than one place and get into some kind of bidding war for it. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Who else should I call?”

“How do you zoom in on this?” Nick asked as he began to hit buttons on her phone. “I want a closer look at her. I’m terrible with iPhones.”

“Wait, that’s not the zoom! Don’t hit that!” Sheila screamed, but she was unable to stop him.

“Oops,” he said. “I’m so sorry! Did I just delete that?”

“Please tell me you didn’t just do that!” she moaned. From the look of horror on her face you’d have thought he’d just deleted her wedding photos, or the last picture she had of her grandmother before she passed away.

“It was an accident.”

“Now what am I going to do?”

“I guess go to work, and hope that they’ll come back for another cup of tea,” Nick said.

He waved as he grabbed his bag off the counter and left.