Page 118 of Gilt

“We should know what it is in a few days,” Jameson tells me.

Pressing my lips together, I allow this to sink in. “How are we going to find out?”

“Do you want the truth or plausible deniability?”

“On second thought, I don’t need to know.” The West’s money could buy any information he wants, and there’s no way to talk him into leaving this case alone.

At noon, we gather in the rec room and turn on the local news channel. We don’t have to wait long before the district attorney appears at the podium. Mackey takes her place beside them, and they wait for the crowd to quiet.

“New evidence has been found in the investigation of one of Belle Mère’s most prominent citizens…”

I dare a glance around the room. Nathaniel West’s family wasn’t invited onto that stage for this announcement. Not only is the FBI keeping the Wests out of the spotlight, but they’ve also already drawn their conclusions.

Jameson grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly as the DA hands the mic over to Detective Mackey.

“After extensive examination of Mr. West’s body, investigators discovered trace DNA. A follow-up search of the crime scene produced an object with both Mr. West’s DNA and that of an unidentified source. Due to the nature of the evidence, our team has concluded that the victim had participated in sexual intercourse on the night of his death—”

Jameson turns off the television. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it untrue.” The exhaustion in her voice is at odds with the cheerful attitude she turns on for most customers.

“That’s why she came here.” I clap my hand over my mouth. Detective Mackey assumes I had sex with Mr. West.

“At least we know what we’re dealing with,” Jameson says grimly.

“Most of it,” I grumble.

Evelyn pushes onto her feet and glances around the room, unable to make eye contact. “I’m going to lie down.”

No one makes a move to stop her and as soon as she’s out of earshot, I turn on Jameson and Monroe. “Did she know your dad was a…”

“Cheater?” Jameson fills in the blank. “Everyone knew.”

I glance in the direction she fled. “She seemed so surprised.”

“Humiliated,” Monroe clarifies.

It’s one thing to have an unfaithful spouse and another to have your family’s dirty laundry hung out to dry for the whole town to see. When she doesn’t emerge from her room for dinner, I begin to worry.

“Should we check on her?” I ask Jameson.

“This isn’t her first rodeo,” Monroe jumps in. “She needs time.”

I decide that she also needs tea. One of the few comforting memories I have of my own mom involves hot tea. She’d brew it when we had stomach bugs or colds. Other times she made it for no reason at all. I dig through the cupboards looking for teabags. When Jameson asks what I’m doing, he stays out of my way. Monroe, on the other hand, helps me raid the pantry.

She holds a box of tea bags triumphantly.

“It’s herbal.” She scrunches up her nose like decaffeinated is below her.

“Do you know how she takes it?” I ask. In the end, I set off to her room with a cup of tea sans milk or sugar. Knocking lightly, I wait until I hear a faint come in.

“I brought you some tea.” I place the cup on her nightstand.

“I’m sorry that you’re mixed up in this.”

“I mixed myself up.” I could have said no to Josie that night and stayed home. I could have blended into the party. I could have never met Jameson. All the fear and heartbreak is worth it, knowing that he’s in my life.

She lowers her voice to a whisper that I have to lean to hear, “There are very few people in Belle Mère that you can trust. Jameson is one of them.”