Silveria did not take Marco.
She told herself she would. She even walked down to the garage, where Ben was polishing the black car in the yellow light, and said, in her calmest voice, "I need to go to the old harbor. A fitting. It's urgent."
"Now, ma'am? It's nearly ten."
"A client's very upset." She smiled brightly. "I'll be quick. Could you drive me?"
Ben looked at her face. He was twenty-four, with a farmer's shoulders and a soft heart. He hesitated. "Mr. Crew said..."
"Mr. Crew's at a meeting. He'll never know."
It was a terrible lie. She felt it burn in her mouth as it came out. But Ben only sighed, took the keys off the hook, and said, "He's going to kill me."
"I'll tell him it was my idea."
"It *was* your idea."
"Then I'll take the blame."
