Odd One Out by Monica McInerney Page B

touched the side of her face, a quick, sweet gesture. “It’s nice to have you here.”
    “It’s nice to be here.” A moment where they smiled at each other. A moment when she wanted to say, what about a drink tomorrow night? Or dinner at the end of the week? She left it too long. “Goodnight.”
    She turned as she reached the top of her stairs. He was still there. He raised a hand in a wave.
    ***
    She rang Sebastian as soon as she got inside. He laughed at the case of mistaken identity. He was very glad she’d found the clue. He was also glad at the news of her drink and dinner with Max.
    “Are you matchmaking, Seb?”
    “Not actively,” he said. “Just letting chemistry do its work. I like Max, I like you, therefore I assumed if I put Max with you, you would like each other. And being the magician I am, it happened. Prince Charming rides into your life.”
    “But I’m not looking for Prince Charming.”
    “Of course you’re not. You’ve got far more serious problems than your love life.”
    “Thanks very much.”
    “I just thought it might be nice for you to meet someone who isn’t a stinking deceitful social-climbing two-timing bastard like David. That’s how you summed him up, wasn’t it?”
    “I think you left out two-faced.”
    She still felt stupid thinking about David. It had taken her five months with him before she realized it was her Devereaux surname he was interested in, not her. She’d met him at one of her mother’s exhibition openings. A lawyer studying art history in his spare time, he’d been full of opinions and talk of reviving the artistic salon tradition. He’d swept Sylvie off her feet. Her mother and sisters had been hugely flattered by his attention too. They’d come to the parties he’d thrown, cheerfully posed for the society photographers who often seemed to turn up. It took Sylvie far too long to realize what was going on. The clincher was when he began introducing her not as “my girlfriend Sylvie,” but as “my dear friend Sylvie, one of the Devereaux family of artists.”
    She’d brought it up on the way back to his apartment in Double Bay one night. “I don’t know why you keep saying that, David. I’m not an artist.”
    “I can hardly introduce you as just a secretary, can I?”
    She finished it with him that night. He pursued her with flowers and apologies until she gave him a second chance. He threw another party to celebrate. He invited her family again and spent most of the night talking to Fidelma. It ended when Sylvie saw a photo of him in the Sunday gossip pages, photographed beside the daughter of a well-known Sydney actor. He’d told Sylvie he was working late that night. That time he accepted it was over. The next day he sent flowers to Fidelma, Vanessa and Cleo, saying it had been a pleasure to meet each of them. He sent them to the office. Sylvie was the only one there. She’d had to sign for them.
    “And you liked Donald?” Sebastian said now.
    She could hear the vulnerable tone in his voice. “I liked him very much.”
    “Good.” He was smiling now. She could hear that too. “That’s very good. Now get to bed. You’ve a lot of unpuzzling to do in the morning.”
    It wasn’t until after she’d cleaned her teeth and was about to get into bed that she checked the answering machine. It was flashing. One message. Max, she thought. Leaving a message already. She pressed the button.
    “Sylvie, Mill here. Two quick thoughts. White vinegar makes a marvelous fabric softener. Just add a quick splash to the final rinse. And cider vinegar added to chooks’ drinking water stops them getting worms. All for now. Goodnight. No need to call back.”

Chapter Six
    It took Sylvie one pot of coffee, two chocolate croissants and one and a half hours the next morning to unjumble the dares. By Sebastian’s standards, they were mild. No leaping off tall buildings. No eating of worms or spiders or caterpillars.
    He’d sent her three dares. She could