Free Now You See Her by Joy Fielding Page A

fist.
    Judith had had her face “done” about six years ago. “Just a little pick-me-up,” she’d insisted. “So I won’t look so tired.”
    “You wouldn’t look so tired if you’d stop exercising all the time.”
    “I have to stay in shape.”
    “You’re in great shape.”
    “Only because I exercise. You really should come with me to spin class. It would do you a world of good. And it’ll do wonders for your sex life.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with my sex life.”
    “Good for you. But you should come anyway. So should Devon. She’s looking a little soft around the edges.”
    “What do you mean? Devon looks great.”
    “She’s looking soft around the edges.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “How’s she doing these days?”
    “She’s doing great. What are you getting at?”
    “You’re not letting her eat a lot of junk food, are you?”
    “She’s a teenager, Judith. I really have very limited control over what she eats.”
    “You know the importance of a proper diet.”
    “There’s more to life than raw fish.”
    “Nobody says there isn’t.”
    “Just what
are
you saying?”
    “I’m not saying anything.”
    “Devon’s fine.”
    “Of course she is.”
    “Of course she is,” Marcy repeated now, returning to the bedroom and tucking her suitcase underneath the bed, the only available space she could find. Then she changed into jeans and a fresh blouse, grabbed her purse, took a deep breath, then another, and left the room.
    SHE WENT DIRECTLY back to the pub where she’d first spotted Devon. “Grogan’s House,” she muttered aloud as she crossed over St. Patrick’s Bridge and turned left, relieved when the bright yellow sign with the bold black lettering came into view. The pub occupied the ground floor of a two-story white stucco building with a black slate roof. A couple of round, old-fashioned, ornamental lights hung amid a bunch of small, brightly colored flags that decorated the facade. Advertisements for Guinness and Beamish were etched into the glass of the large front windows. Marcy remembered none of these details from the previous afternoon. Was it possible she was mistaken about which pub she’d been in? There were so many in the area.
    She approached the front door cautiously, glancing over her shoulder at the few people brave enough to be sitting on theoutside patio. A second was all it took for Marcy to ascertain that Devon wasn’t among them. A man was exiting the pub as she was going in, and he held the door open for her, the welcoming chatter from inside the room instantly enveloping her.
    “Well, well,” a voice exclaimed above the din. “Come back to finish your tea, have you?”
    Marcy walked directly to the bar. “You remember me?” she asked the handsome man behind it.
    “I never forget a pretty face.”
    Marcy felt strangely flattered. Her hand moved immediately to fidget with her hair. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
    If the young man was surprised by her comment, he didn’t show it. His green eyes sparkled as his full lips parted in an easy grin. “Is there something I can do for you then?”
    “There was a girl,” Marcy said, reaching inside her purse for Devon’s photograph. “Yesterday.”
    “Ah,” he said. “A girl …”
    “I think it was this girl.” Marcy pushed the picture of Devon across the bar. “Do you know her?”
    He picked up the photograph and examined it for several seconds, slowly shaking his head.
    “She walked by outside and waved to you,” Marcy pressed, trying to jog his memory.
    His smile widened as he returned the picture to her waiting fingers. “I get lots of girls waving at me, I’m afraid.”
    “Our Liam’s quite the ladies’ man,” a waitress said as she was walking past with a tray of empty beer mugs. “Shall I have a look?”
    “Please.” Marcy handed Devon’s photo to the buxom young woman.
    The waitress’s loose blond curls fell toward the photograph. “Hmm,” she