Page 44 of The Runaway

"You'd be surprised," Ruby says, feeling the weight of the public's sentiment--something she knows firsthand. "People can beveryjudgmental about...well, everything."

"What's the worst thing you ever got from the media?" Marigold asks Ruby.

"Um...I think the worst thing I ever experienced was how hard they were on my girls." She feels her heart constrict at the memory of how difficult Athena in particular had it, with the way the media portrayed her every gawky, awkward move as a young teenager, passive-aggressively poking fun at the way she wore her hair, how she looked with braces, and even the way she smiled. They'd also been hard on Harlow, discussing ad nauseam her every misstep and showcasing her most outrageous outfits as if she were a grown woman who had made some sort of agreement to be in the public eye, which she most certainly was not and had not.

"But for me, personally," Ruby continues, "I think that my worst experience was the way they made me look and feel after Jack died. Every photo I saw of myself made me look like a crazed, traumatized widow."

"And you weren't?" Molly asks, though not unkindly.

"I was shocked, I think," Ruby admits. "And maybe traumatized by the amount of scrutiny I was under, but I was not crazed or traumatized by his death itself and the other events that it uncovered. I already had some hint that Jack had fathered a child with another woman because of the DNA test that Harlow had taken, so that was all shocking but not mind-blowing." She sets her plate on her lap and holds her drink in one hand. "I just felt like everywhere I went, they were waiting for me to break down or do something that would make me look insane. And in turn, it kind of drove me insane. I felt paranoid all the time. I started to believe people were going through my trash looking for things to write about me."

"They probably were." Marigold nods. "In Hollywood the paparazzi are well known for digging through trash cans."

"Yeah, I don't trust the media in general, but I understand that they serve a purpose. So I get Peter's hesitancy to come out, although I also get how much his lifestyle has hurt Sunday." Ruby looks at her friend with love and sympathy, and Sunday smiles back. "Coming out will be hard for him to do, but I think you got the closure you needed with him, didn't you, Sun?"

Sunday nods slowly. "I do. For now. In a really small amount of time this year I've moved incredibly far and fast towards healing. I moved here, I left Washington behind, I went home to Tangier Island, I got my girls to understand me better, and I said what I needed to say to Peter. I'm feeling really good."

"Plus you got that beefcake always checking you out," Molly says, nodding in Banks's direction. Whereas he'd started out standing at the side of the room at full attention every time he was in the bookstore, Banks has begun to sit in a chair more casually, one leg crossed over the other as he pages through a book from the shelves. He's looking and feeling less like a professional Secret Service agent constantly assessing the danger of a situation, and more like a bodyguard who happens to be close by in case he's needed.

"Shhh!" Sunday says, motioning with her hand for Molly to keep it down. "He's not checking me out."

Molly lifts one eyebrow like she wants to argue this, but instead she uses her plastic fork to spear a bite of mozzarella and tomato, bringing it to her mouth and popping it in.

As usual, the group hasn't even mentioned the book they've been reading these past couple of weeks, but Ruby doesn't fret about that one bit. This ability to talk to the other women about the things that come up in their lives is so much more valuable than discussing any book they might choose to read.

And there's more that Ruby would share, but instead she munches thoughtfully on the dumplings as she listens to the women talk about Bev Byer and the way he's been acting grumpy lately every time any of them set foot inside The Frog's Grog.

"Exactly!" Heather says. "I was in there the other day and he was all bent out of shape about the way people were drinking down at the Black Pearl with their dinner every night, but not stopping in at The Frog's Grog lately for a nightcap. He said something about The Black Pearl stealing his grog recipe and advertising it on their website so that visitors to the island went straight to the restaurant."

"Well, they're missing out then," Molly says. "The Frog's Grog is a Shipwreck Key staple. If you come here and you don't stop by for one of Bev's grogs, then can you really say you've been to Shipwreck?"

The conversation goes on like this as Ruby nods and smiles, but she's lost in thought remembering the emails she'd just gotten that afternoon. First was a follow-up from her attorney regarding the message she'd received from Etienne while she was in New York. She still hasn't addressed Etienne directly, though the email has been on her mind almost daily. She isn't sure how she's supposed to feel about Jack's death leaving Etienne and her son high and dry, but she knows how shedoesfeel, which is conflicted. On the one hand, she should be angry and shouldn't care at all about what happens to her late husband's mistress or the child he fathered with her. On the other, she knows that by sharing the news of Jack's suicide with the world, she essentially cut off Etienne's ability to access the insurance policy that Jack had intended for her to have. And she feels guilty about that because she intercepted something that was Jack's intention. So it's complicated--there's no easy way to look at it, and there's no one size fits all kind of answer for the situation. Her attorney has been looking into ways to address the insurance company on Etienne's behalf, which Ruby feels in her heart will alleviate some of her own guilt, but paying out of pocket to have someone look into the matter kind of grinds her gears. It's a constant push-pull of emotions.

The other email she received was from Dexter, who has been weirdly quiet since she left New York. They've been in touch a few times and he's repeatedly insisted that rather than doing any Zoom calls for the time being, he'd like to work with the material he has and see where that puts him. This new email today was short and to the point, and as she'd sat at her computer in the tiny upstairs office over the bookshop, she'd felt her cheeks bloom red just reading it:

Ruby--

I'm going to be on a tiny hiatus from working on the book. I think it's best. A little perspective always helps when trying to move ahead on a project, as does taking a sidestep and working on a different one. To that end, I'll be in Ukraine for a bit with a journalist friend who works for the BBC. We're doing a big piece on the Russia-Ukraine situation.

I'll be in touch. I hope you're well, Ruby.

Dexter

It hadn't made her blush from happiness, but from embarrassment, because Dexter clearly wanted to take a step back from working so closely with her. She read it in his tone, and she felt it in her gut. It was true that she'd left New York kind of abruptly and without explanation, but in the moment it had seemed like the right thing to do, to get some perspective, as Dexter is doing now.

The women laugh at something Heather has just said and Ruby smiles, hoping that she looks less like she's lost in her own thoughts than she is. There's no reason for her to feel stressed about Dexter taking a step back to work on a side project, except for the obvious potential danger of him being in an area filled with civil and political unrest. Selfishly, there's also the idea that she's entrusted him with her deepest, darkest secrets and her true emotions about some of the most challenging and important parts of her life, and he's just roaming the earth with them all in his back pocket. An image fills her brain of Dexter having a drink with a group of other journalists in a war-torn country, sitting around a table in a dark bar and knocking back shots as they share stories. She doesn't think he would divulge any of her secrets under normal circumstances, but perhaps as the alcohol loosens his tongue, he might inadvertently offer some details about her and her life. And wouldn't that be a juicy piece of gossip to trade while gunfire blasts outside the bar, the threat of danger more imminent with every passing moment? The former First Lady's secrets would be at least mildly entertaining to the journalists gathered there, exhausted and homesick as they try to amuse one another.

"What do you think, Ruby?" Molly asks, pulling her back to the present moment.

"Sorry?" Ruby pats the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "I got lost in thought there for a second."

"We were talking about the book," Sunday says. "What did you think about the protagonist needing to tell her mother-in-law off before the older woman died? We all thought it sounded cathartic as hell." The entire group laughs, remembering their own mothers-in-law. "I'd give my right arm to bring Peter's mother back to life long enough to give her a piece of my mind."

Ruby gives a half-smile. She could think of a few bones she might have to pick with Jack's late mother, but none of that really interests her at the moment. "What would you all think of taking our drinks down to the beach and listening to the ocean?" Ruby asks. "Sometimes all I can think about is that Jack died alone in the water. When I hear the waves, I wonder if they were the last thing he heard."

The other women make alarmed eye contact, clearly curious about Ruby's slightly out of character behavior.

"Sure, Rubes, we could go for a stroll," Sunday says gently, nodding encouragingly at the other women. "If what you need is to be up and moving, then we can do that. We could walk off some of this fried rice and booze. Let's do it." She stands up and walks over to the table. "I'll top off drinks if anyone wants them," Sunday says, starting with her own cup.