Page 10 of The Getaway

During his speech at the wedding, Lincoln had said Lily was everything he never knew he always wanted and that he’d spend the rest of his life thanking Marley for introducing them. Instead, seven years later, he’d cheated and ignominiously dumped Lily for a woman who was just like all the others who had flamed out before her.

“We don’t know. And we haven’t opened ours yet. We were waiting for you,” Juliet said, producing another envelope out of her flowy skirt with a clicking of her half-dozen wooden bracelets. Suzy now had hers in her hand as well.

Marley’s heart was pounding, whether from the run up the stairs, the wine, or the intrigue, she had no idea. But she was dying to know what was in this envelope. Her palms itched with sweat. Suzy placed Wintour on a chair, and Wintour sat down to watch the proceedings.

“So we open on the count of three?” Suzy said, never one to miss the opportunity to make an already dramatic moment more dramatic.

Marley nodded.

“One,” Juliet said, then bit her lip.

“Two,” Marley said, then held her breath.

“Three!” Suzy shouted.

Marley opened the envelope and tugged out the card with shaking fingers. She looked down at the one line written across the expensive card stock, and her heart went from sixty to zero with a slam.

Lincoln is the reason Marshall no longer wants to adopt.

What? her brain screamed. What???

She opened her mouth, but before she could even formulate a coherent sentence, Juliet shrieked.

“What the hell? This is a joke, right?” She looked up at Suzy. “This better be some kind of sick joke.”

5

Suzy

Wintour was barking her fool head off as Suzy turned toward the door. She did not like it when people shouted, and Juliet’s outburst had set her off. Suzy automatically scooped her up, and the dog fell quiet, but her little body still shivered with nerves. Suzy could relate.

No more blackmail income for you! Lincoln’s cutting you off.

The words repeated themselves over and over again in Suzy’s brain. They were burned on her retinas. In Lily’s handwriting. Was it Lily’s handwriting? No. It was too loopy. Too round. But maybe that was because of all the drinking? Did a person’s handwriting change? No. More likely someone else was screwing with her. But who? And why?

It sort of sounded like something Lily would say, though. As much as Suzy loved her, Lily did have a condescending side, which came out at the most surprising moments.

But there was no way Lily knew about the blackmail. And neither did anyone else. The whole point was not letting anyone know. That was what blackmail was.

“Suzy! Wait!” Juliet shouted after her.

But Suzy didn’t wait. Her kitten-heeled sandals clicked and slapped as she rushed down the hallway past the weird, haunting photos and then down the stairs. She shoved the note into her pocket with one hand while clutching Wintour to her chest with the other. Whoever had written this note knew that Lincoln had been paying Suzy off. Did they know why? If so, it wasn’t just her relationship with Lincoln that was over, but several relationships—with people in this very house—would be damaged. This was a disaster.

She had to talk to Lincoln. She had to find out what was going on.

Just before the last step, she heard loud male laughter, and her foot slipped out from under her. She yelped, and the laughter stopped. She grasped the handrail to keep from dropping her dog and basically swung into the room. Outside on the patio, what felt like miles away with the great room between them, Sean, Marshall, and Lincoln chatted with an unfamiliar couple, him big, burly, and bearded, and her tall, thin, and auburn haired.

“Oh my God! Look at the puppy!”

Seemingly out of nowhere, two gorgeous, leggy teenage girls descended on Suzy and started making kissy faces at the dog. They brought with them a cloud of flowery perfume and sunscreen scent. Somewhere upstairs a door slammed. The crystals on the foyer chandelier shivered.

“What’s her name?” one of the girls asked, her doe eyes wide. God, she had perfect eyelashes. Were those real? Her hair hung in two long ponytails down her chest, and she wore a pink-and-white baseball cap that read “Fierce” in bubble letters. A tiny stone piercing shone just above her right nostril.

“This is Wintour,” Suzy told them, recovering herself.

“Oh my God. Love that for her.”

“And you are?” Suzy asked.