Serious Moonlight(47)

He huffed out a little laugh that shook his chest and reverberated through my hand. “True. We do have a history of not being able to control ourselves. Never fear. We’ll have a strict hands-off policy for this date that isn’t a date.”

“No hands.”

“Mostly no hands,” he assured me. “But for sure we’ll keep our pants on this time.”

“Oh God,” I mumbled.

He pressed my hand more firmly against his chest. “Birdie?”

“Yes?”

“Seven o’clock tomorrow?”

Before I could answer, a triple-fast knock rapped on the door. We pulled away from each other as the lock beeped. Beth’s face poked inside the room. “Manager is on his way up here with two guests. Out, out!”

Heart hammering, I dashed toward the door, only to stop short when Daniel blocked my exit with his arm. “You didn’t answer.”

“Are you serious?” I said impatiently, utterly panicked. “Let me out!”

“Please, Birdie. I’m begging you to go out with me. Please, please—”

“Fine. Yes, whatever!”

He nodded firmly. “You won’t regret it. Let’s go.” He released the door and urged me forward into the hallway unexpectedly. I had to lunge to avoid Beth’s housekeeping cart, and in doing so, tripped over my own feet, barely catching myself from falling on my face.

“Oof!”

“Sorry!” he said, steadying me. “Oh, almost forgot. Wear purple tomorrow if you can.”

“What?” I said a little too loudly.

“Oh my God, you two. Shut the hell up!” Beth whispered angrily. “If we get caught, we’re all in deep trouble.”

“Nah. We’ll just be fired,” Daniel whispered cheerfully, beaming at me with a big, stupid grin on his face.

Beth made an exasperated noise. “How do I let you talk me into this kind of shit? Sometimes I really want to strangle you, Daniel Aoki.”

You and me both, Beth. You and me both.





“Fate is by far the greatest mystery of all.”

—Lady Julia Grey, Silent in the Grave (2006)





15




* * *



What do people wear for dates that aren’t dates? I didn’t have a clue. That made me anxious. And several hours before I had to leave to catch a ferry the next night to meet Daniel, a slow-rising panic was filling my body. I hoped Aunt Mona knew what she was doing.

Critiquing my reflection in a floor mirror, I stood at the back of a boutique shop—Junk and Disorderly Vintage Clothes, just down the street from Mona’s theater, which separated their racks of vintage clothing by era, 1920s to 1990s. Aunt Mona squatted on the floor in front of me, checking the length of my hem, while Grandpa Hugo sat on a bench outside, chatting with a couple he knew from across the island, whom he’d stopped when he spotted them passing by.

“Perfect,” Mona said.

I twisted to peer at the paper tag pinned to the back of the bodice. “Better be. It’s insanely expensive.”

“Can you really put a price on something that looks this good?” she said, standing up to admire it from a fan of fake eyelashes that were made from tiny bird feathers. Today’s wig was a silver bob. “Besides, it’s my treat. You know I can always find money for new clothes.”

She’d bought most of mine since I was old enough to walk. I smoothed my hand down the fabric of a casual 1950s dress. It had a narrow belt and a pleated skirt that looked “supremely Nancy Drew,” according to Aunt Mona. It was also the only thing in the store right now in my size that was purple—mauve, close enough—for whatever reason Daniel had in mind.

“If we had a week or two, I could make you something fabulous,” she said.

Likely it would be covered in sequins and have insane accessories.

“I love this,” I said. “Honestly.”

“Oh, good!” she said, clapping the tips of her fingers. “I needed a little joy today.”

I looked at her face more closely. “Why? You haven’t seen Leon Snodgrass again, have you? I thought you were going out on his stupid yacht tomorrow.”

“Still am. Just to talk.”

“About what?”

Her eyes darted away. “Nothing. To catch up, that’s all.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Maybe it was the little worry line that creased her forehead. Maybe it was because I had no faith in Leon Snodgrass. For all I knew, he was planning to seduce her and whisk her away to Texas, or wherever he was living now. Aunt Mona leaving the island one day had always been a secret worry of mine, and now that I was working in the city and soon facing decisions about being an adult, I double worried about her leaving. I just always thought she’d be moving back to Seattle—not to the other side of the country.

I wasn’t sure I could handle that.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?” I asked.

“Ugh,” she complained, letting her head loll back as she squeezed her feather-deckled eyes shut. “You’re worse than my own mother, Birdie.”

“You don’t speak to your mother.”

“No, mi corazón—she doesn’t speak to me. There’s a difference.”