Chapter 31 The Big Circus—er, Night #3
Harold had never had a night like this in his life. Not even Aroldo had had a night like this. They made a strange crew, but it felt like his crew nonetheless, and he felt as sad as ever to leave Bologna.
They were all returning to their chairs after comforting Sandy when Moira suddenly said, “May I admit something?”
Everyone laughed, because if it was a joke, it was a pretty good one.
“We already know all your secrets,” Sandy said, her old self poking through.
“What now? Did you read the last chapter of Where the Crawdads Sing before you started? Or did you have gelato for breakfast yesterday?” A smile surfaced, because she was joking this time, teasing. And that probably had to stop too.
Moira said with surprising attitude, “Do you want to keep going?”
Sandy whispered a sorry and said, “I’m done. And I’ll try harder, Moira. I’ll do better.”
“You don’t have to quit being you, Sandy.
You’re funny when you’re not being mean.
As I was saying . . .” She leaned forward and whispered, “This is maybe the stupidest thing I’ve done since marrying my ex, but I want to share something because I’m tired of hiding.
I’m tired of no one knowing the real me. ”
Silence.
“And maybe by sharing you’ll see what you people mean to me.
I know it sounds silly, but you’re the only family I have left in my life .
. . and I . . . I want you to know who I am.
And I suppose it goes without saying that you can’t tell anyone else.
Because it would put me in danger, and I’d likely get moved to another city, another country. ”
“Um, maybe you shouldn’t say anything else,” Harold suggested.
Moira drew in the last breath of a woman protecting a secret, then let it out. “I’m in the UK Protected Persons Service, the British version of the witness protection program.”
Eye rolls ran round the room.
Moira didn’t flinch.
The table sat silently, waiting for her to laugh or admit she was kidding. In the seconds that passed, what felt like a full minute, Harold started to think that maybe she was telling the truth. He knew she’d been protecting her past.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Deadly.”
A fist slammed down to the table, knocking the tentacle tips off their towers. “I knew it!” Sandy yelled. “You and your made-up story about your aunt. I knew there was something fishy going on.”
“Wait, what?” Bianca said.
“Details, please,” Harold said. “I mean, if you’re really confessing.”
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t do anything wrong, other than marry the wrong man.”
Bianca asked, “Your family back home doesn’t even know?”
Moira gestured behind her with her hand. “Mum and Dad both died a few years back. Had to start over here.”
Harold set his hands on his head. “Is Moira even your name?”
She shook her head.
“Well, don’t tell us,” Bianca said. “Don’t get yourself in trouble.”
“I’m not. I can’t. Last thing I want is all of you googling me.”
“It’s a thing?” Harold asked. “You were in the papers?”
Her lack of response indicated a resounding yes.
Harold couldn’t deny that her sexiness factor had shot up by millions. His friends had no idea who he was bringing into their gaming club.
The silence forced Moira to keep going. “He was messing around with some baddies. I suppose he was a baddie himself.”
“I like that word—baddie,” Harold said.
George shushed him. “Let her speak.”
Moira shook her head. “I can’t believe I’ve said it out loud. I have to admit, it feels so . . . liberating.” She continued, “I was a harmless librarian who fell in love with a—”
“A librarian?” Sandy said. “That explains it.”
Moira nodded. “Anyway, I saw something I shouldn’t have—something his business partner had done—and told him we had to call the police.
He lost it and threatened to kill me if I opened my mouth.
Apparently he’d been part of it, a criminal enterprise of sorts.
I had no idea. And I didn’t heed his warning.
Snuck out a window, climbed down a fire escape, and ran to the police station.
Left my whole life behind. I’ve been hiding ever since.
” She shrugged. “Other than when I attended the trial. He and a few other men were sentenced to twenty-plus years. And I’m in Bologna unless they find me.
Then I’ll be thrown into a Grisham novel, running for my life. ”
“That’s right,” Sandy said. “One of Grisham’s books was set here; the protagonist was hiding.”
Moira gave a nod.
“You’re a badass,” Harold declared.
Sandy was shaking her head. “And there I was, calling you a mouse, you lion you.”
Moira shrugged. “Can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Oh, God,” Sandy said. “Please don’t end this spectacular revelation with a cliché.”
“Sorry. But seriously, please, let’s not talk about this ever again. If my protection officer even got suspicious, she’d send me packing. I’d lose my job, the bookstore. You guys.”
Harold raised his wine to toast Moira. “Your secret is safe here.”
Everyone agreed and clinked glasses.
As Harold brought the glass to his lips, he saw Alice enter the room. Leading the way, guiding her diamond-studded hand, was Renzo, the thief of strawberry lovers.