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enough for him to have wondered what she ever saw in him. Didn’t she realize that he was still in love with her? That he had come along this weekend not merely because of his interest in the island, but because of his interest in her, his desire to win her back? This little weekend was going to be a very busy period for him. There were so many things he had to do.
    And if things didn’t work out, there was always little Betty Sanders for him to amuse himself with. She was so—vulnerable, wasn’t she?
    Anton wrapped the tie around his neck, knotted it, and smiled.

 
    Chapter 5
    In the larger bedroom down the hall, Cynthia Marcovicci and Andrea Peters were catching up on each other’s lives while they unpacked. The room they were in had two old-fashioned canopy beds placed against opposite walls, and in between them were two large windows with lovely lace curtains billowing silently in the breeze. The first thing the women had done was open the windows to let in some air.
    They had been friends in college; Lynn had, in fact, introduced them to each other. They had eventually become closer to one another than either had ever been to Lynn. They had taken very different paths, however, and grown apart in the years since graduation. Now, at twenty-six, the only thing they seemed to have in common was their good looks.
    Andrea opened a bottle of Cynthia’s perfume that she’d found in the cabinet and sniffed it. “Umm. This is nice stuff,” she said. “Expensive?”
    Cyn peeked in, a blue cotton dress in her hand. “What’s that? The Leonine? Oh, it’s only forty dollars a bottle.”
    Was she serious? Andrea assumed that she was, so said nothing. What had happened to the days when they’d hardly had money for a cup of coffee between them? Cynthia went back to the closet, dress in hand. “If you want to use some,” she offered, “be my guest. Only don’t touch my toothpaste. It’s special for sensitive teeth.”
    Andrea laughed and said “okay.” She looked at her skinny row of supplies, and Cynthia’s wall of cosmetics and skin creams and hair sprays and lotions, and thought it looked like a counter at Bloomingdale’s compared to her wedge from Macy’s bargain basement. Well, there was nothing left to unpack. Andrea had no choice but to go back to the bedroom and wait for Cynthia to finish. She wanted to hear about Cyn’s glamorous life since college almost as much as she didn’t want to talk about her own. So far their conversation had centered on the island, on how well Lynn looked, on Lynn’s good catch—a lawyer, no less— with just a few asides about their current lifestyles. Andrea knew a lot about Cyn’s life already, from Lynn, from talk shows, from tabloids. How could her dull little life ever compare?
    Cynthia came out of the bathroom five minutes later, dressed in a chic, crimson cocktail dress. Her clothes were so beautiful. Everything looked good with her long, wavy hair; she wore it draped over one side of her face and tucked behind the ear on the other in that sexy, coquettish way—a kind of style Andrea would never have dared to try. Cyn’s makeup was carefully applied, a little heavy for the surroundings, but not too garish. She had a pert, upturned nose, nice rounded cheekbones, a perfect chin, and exotic-looking brown eyes made striking through makeup. About five-feet-seven and becomingly slender, Cynthia looked even better now than she had in college days. “How do I look?” she asked, twirling around and laughing.
    “Great,” Andrea said. And she meant it. She surprised herself by realizing that the shame she felt, because her own life was so drab compared to Cynthia’s, had not been caused by envy. She really was glad for Cynthia’s good fortune. “I don’t know who I’m getting dressed up for,” Cynthia said, putting on her earrings. “The lawyer’s taken, the blond stud is the property of Lynn’s elderly”— she stressed the word for comic effect—“aunt, and