From the corner of my eye, I spot Mom heading our way with a fresh wine spritzer and a look that says someone’s about to get verbally rearranged.
This should be good.
“Retiring from real life,” I repeat. “Is that what we’re calling motherhood and small business ownership now?”
I can’t help it. It’s been a long night and she just set my blood to an instant boil.
“Bizzy,” Mackenzie hisses just below a whisper and taps her foot over mine with a warning.Why can’t Bizzy just let it slide?she thinks to herself.Didn’t I make it crystal clear I don’t want any of her homicidal tendencies to take center stage tonight? Although when it comes to Brittany, maybe one dead body wouldn’t be all that bad.
I shoot Mackenzie a look for even going there.
Brittany belts out a bright, ringing laugh.Content. This is content,she thinks to herself as she cackles away.There’s nothing I can’t use, but this is gold.
Wonderful. She’s editing this interaction for social media. She thinks I’m hilarious. In a sad way. Like a sitcom character who doesn’t know she’s the punchline.
And believe me, I’m well aware—especially when Mackenzie Woods is involved.
“Oh my goodness, you’re hysterical,” Brittany says, touching my arm. “Macky said you had a sense of humor about things.”
Macky.
I frown without meaning to. And about whatthings, exactly, I want to ask, but another woman swoops in before I can.
“Don’t listen to her,” the newcomer says, pulling me into ahug that feels half genuine, half performance art. She’s petite and curvy with caramel highlights that look expensive. “I’m Tamsin. Tamsin Rowe. I’m a wellness coach and I run a fitness studio in Cambridge.”
Of course she does.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Bizzy,” I manage.
“What a gorgeous inn,” Tamsin gushes, her warm brown eyes scanning the property. “Mackenzie is so lucky to have family that actually stayed local. Most people just leave, you know? Abandon their roots.” She shoots a look at someone in the group that I can’t quite interpret.This is going to get messy. Brittany knows about Marcus. If she says anything tonight, I swear?—
I catch the edge of that thought before Tamsin pulls back, smile firmly in place.
Who’s Marcus?
“Well, someone had to stick around,” I say lightly and all six of them wrinkle their noses at me like I just let an offensive odor fly.
A woman with auburn hair in perfect waves steps forward next. She’s tall, willowy, and has a presence that makes you stand up a little straighter whether you mean to or not.
“Blaire Kensington,” she says, offering her hand like it’s a limited-time opportunity. “Brand consultant.”
We shake. Her hand is ice cold, but I’m not sure I expected anything less.
“What a quaint little town,” Blaire continues, her hazel eyes sweeping over the party with thinly veiled disdain. “You must be so content here. Away from all the noise and chaos of real life.”
Content? We’re reallyleaning into that word tonight.
Real life, apparently, happens somewhere else.
“Oh, we get plenty of chaos,” I assure her.
More than she would believe.
If Brittany ruins tonight, I’ll—Blaire’s thought cuts off abruptly as she smiles at me.She needs to keep her mouth shut. For once in her miserable life, she needs to just quit yapping.
Well. Someone’s got strong feelings.
“Bizzy?” A quieter voice pulls my attention to the woman with the ash blonde hair cut in a sharp bob. She’s thin—like razor thin—and her blue-gray eyes take me in piece by piece in a way that makes my skin prickle. “I’m Sloane Fletcher-Ramsey. My husband Travis and I run a renovation and design company.”
