Chapter 18: The Other Two

On Sunday afternoon there were three of us in Rosalind's print shop, and two more were coming.

Rosalind had pulled the blinds and set out five mugs.

Piers stood by the paper cutter with his arms folded.

An hour ago his hand had found the small of my back.

It had not left since, and I did not want it to.

"Tristan paid for their flights," Rosalind said.

"He didn't come himself. He said it should be our room."

The bell rang.

A woman in a green coat came in first, thin and fair, with a suitcase.

Behind her came a taller woman with short dark hair.

She stopped on the threshold and looked at the crate on the counter.

"Is that it?" the dark-haired woman said.

"That's most of it," said Rosalind.

"Sit. Please."

The fair woman sat on the box of flyers. The dark one stayed standing.

I understood without being told who they were.

The first was the woman who had left Tristan for his mother's younger brother.

The second was the one who had supposedly sent his money to another man.

"I'm not going to tell you my name," the first woman said.

"I'd like to keep it out of this."

"That's fine," I said.

"You're the fourth." She looked me over, not unkindly. "He did it to you, too."

"He tried."

"He got me in the second year," she said. "I was twenty-three."

"Hugh sat me down at a restaurant and said Tristan was seeing someone else."

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