As she describes infighting among vendors—the DJ who hates the catering manager for interrupting the set lists with the pacing of food—I listen carefully. But when the conversation turns to the logistics that go into hiring a champagne aerialist, I fear we’re losing the plot.
“Autumn—”
“Sorry,” she says. “There’s so much going on. Not to mention everything with Gemma. How have you been?” Her lips quirk a little, like she’s curious to see if I’ll admit that I’ve heard the gossip about Beau.
“Not great,” I say. “Gemma was a good friend. I think I’m in a little bit of denial. Listen,” I go on, “I didn’t want to say anything at the dinner party. But I’ve been worried about you, too.” I say it because it’s true, but I hate how much I’m hoping she’ll offer more intel in return for my sympathy right now. Information. A thread to pull. Anything. I haven’t socialized with a hidden agenda since my Simon days, and it feels corrosive. “You and Gemma worked together so often.”
I let the words hang in the air for a moment. Autumn nods. “She was doing such a good job at Lemon & Fig that she did some moonlighting with me, picking up bartending gigs at parties for the extra cash. She’d only been doing it for six months or so, but that’s a long time in the service industry. Most peopleonly stay a few months, and then they get bored or burnt-out and move on to something new. But Gemma was such a pro…”
I shift in my seat. “I still can’t figure out why she quit Lemon& Fig. That job interview wasn’t a guarantee.”
“She quit with me, too,” she says. “Said she didn’t need any more shifts.”
“What?”
Autumn hums noncommittally, and I look down to mask the fact that I’m starved for every detail. Under the table, my legs bounce slightly.
Gemma left both of her jobs, and then at the end of her last shift, she died. Autumn must know more about why.
Autumn nods, takes a sip of her coffee, and looks around the shop.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I say, reaching out and putting a hand on her arm.
“I mean…” She stalls out, but I can tell she wants to spill what she’s holding back. “I know Gemma wanted to make a good impression with everyone. The thing someone said that night, about pulling a Nora? She could be a little flirty with guests.”
“What, you think she pissed off someone’s wife?”
“No. It’s not that.” Autumn swallows, and then slowly says, “Gemma was very discreet about her dating life.”
She was very discreet about a lot of things apparently.
“I only found out by accident,” she goes on. “A month or two ago, she left her phone behind after an event one night, and it lit up with text after text until she came to claim it. I think she was dating someone. She said she couldn’t tell me who. Someone married or in the process of maybe divorcing? The details were fuzzy, but it sounded complicated.”
“Ohmygod!” The words fall out of my mouth in a rush as pure shock zaps through me.
Autumn takes in my reaction, which was clearly bigger than she was expecting.
“Did you tell the police about this?” I say, trying to recover.
As she nods, my phone rings in my purse. My hand feels heavy as I reach for it.
Gemma was having an affair with a married man. Add it to the long list of things she never mentioned. If Gemma was having an affair, whoever she was seeing could be the reason she was killed.
I see Nora’s name on the caller ID and look at Autumn. As eager to please as always, she makes a gesture encouraging me to take the call.
“Hey,” I say to Nora, and my voice sounds hollow. Like someone has scooped out my insides.
Who was the guy?
My thoughts jump to Beau, and his confession that Gemma was upset about something from the past.
“Can you meet me somewhere? Like, now?” Nora asks.
“Is everything okay?” And as I ask, it feels like nothing will ever be okay again.
Nora says, “I’m going to send you an address, okay?”
I make my apologies to Autumn, but I’m happy to be going. I need a minute alone.
