Public Secrets

“Does Mr. Donovan know you’re coming?”
“Of course.” She lied sweetly, with a smile. “Didn’t he tell you? Well, that’s Johnno. We’ll only be staying for a couple of days.” She moved to the elevators as she spoke. It would be best if he didn’t buzz upstairs and let the cat out of the bag. “I’m going to school here now.”
“I thought you were going to some fancy university in London.”
“I transferred.” She winked at him. “You know my heart’s in New York.”
As the doors closed in front of them, Marianne rolled her eyes. “Very smooth, McAvoy, very smooth.”
“Most of it was true.” She laughed, then let out a nervous breath. “I’ve been eighteen for two months. It’s time I tried my independence.”
“I’ve been eighteen for seven months and my father still pitched a fit when I transferred to NYCC. Well, it’s done. Tomorrow we’re going to start looking for an apartment. Then we’re going to live just the way we always planned it.”
“Yeah. Well, over the first hurdle.” They stepped out of the elevator and walked down the wide, quiet hall to Johnno’s condo. “Let me do the talking,” Emma warned. At Marianne’s bland look, she sighed. “I mean it. The last time you did the talking we ended up polishing pews for three Saturdays running.”
“I’m an artist, not a lawyer,” she muttered, then put on her best smile when the door opened.
“Johnno!” Emma launched herself into his arms. “Surprise,” she said, then kissed him.
“Hold up.” He was only half dressed, and groggy with after-dinner wine and sleep. With his hands on her shoulders, he held Emma back. She’d grown tall. In the last eighteen months she’d sprung up like a willow, slim, graceful, with hints of elegance. Her pale blond hair was scooped back with combs, so that it fell full and straight to brush her shoulders. She wore snug faded jeans with a skinny ribbed shirt tucked into them. Wide gold hoops swung at her ears. “For Christ’s sake, you look like an off-duty model.” He shifted his gaze to Marianne. “And here’s my favorite redhead. What have you done to your hair?” He rubbed a hand over Marianne’s short spiked do.

“It’s what’s happening now,” she told him, then leaned her cheek in for a kiss. “Did we get you up?”
“Yes. I suppose I should let you in before I ask what the hell you’re doing here.” He glanced down. “With suitcases.”
“Oh, Johnno, it’s so good to be here. The minute I got in the cab at the airport, I felt at home.” She dropped her suitcase, then took a quick spin around the room. She plopped onto the couch, rubbed a hand over the oyster-colored cushions, then popped up again. “How are you?”
“Uh-uh.” He knew her well enough to recognize the restless energy as nerves. “I’ll ask the questions. Drink?”
“Yes, please.”
He walked over to a circular glass bar and rooted out two soft drinks. “Is there a school holiday I don’t know about?”
“Liberation Day. Marianne and I have both transferred to NYCC.”
“Have you now?” He poured Diet Pepsi into two glasses. “Strange Brian didn’t mention it.”
“He doesn’t know.” Emma took the two glasses and passed one to Marianne along with a warning look. “Before you say anything, I’d like you to listen.”
In response, he gave her ear a quick tug. “How did you slip by Sweeney and the other one?”
“A brown wig, horn-rimmed glasses, and a limp.”
“Very clever.” Johnno took her glass and sipped, not certain he was comfortable in the role of avuncular confidant. “Do you have any idea how worried Brian’s going to be?”
There was a flash of regret in her eyes, then it hardened into determination. “I intend to call him, and explain everything. My mind’s made up, Johnno. Nothing you or he or anyone says can change it.”
“I haven’t tried to change it yet.” He frowned at Marianne. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’ve been warned. I’ve already been through all this with my parents,” she added quickly. “They don’t particularly like it, but we’re set. Emma and I are both eighteen now. We know what we want.”
He felt suddenly, uncomfortably old. “And being eighteen means you can do as you please?”
“We’re not kids anymore,” Marianne began before Emma put a hand over her mouth.

“Sit down, Marianne, and be quiet.”
Emma took her glass back from Johnno. “I know how much I owe my father, and you. Since I was three years