Page 55

This reunion was cursed long before Jordan kicked the bucket, but I don’t say that out loud. Cathie’s already apprehensive about me staying as it is.

A knock at the door cuts the conversation short. I push away from the desk and head over.

“I should go. I don’t want to be late to the first reunion event.”

“I still think holding a brunch at the same spot your childhood friend died is in bad taste.”

“Jordan wasn’t my friend,” I deadpan.

“No, but she was still a human being. One who deserves a bit of respect.”

That’s debatable. But again, I don’t say anything to my friend. Cathie wouldn’t understand why I’m not the least bit emotional or why I don’t particularly care that Jordan died so unexpectedly. She’d probably think I have a block of ice where my heart should be if I told her the truth.

“I really have to go,” I say after another knock. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. I would say have fun, but… yeah. Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hang up just before opening the door.

However, it’s not Sienna standing on the other side as I expected. It’s Mrs. Trott.

“Apologies for interrupting,” she says sheepishly, “but I just wanted to make sure you’re still comfortable staying in this room after…” She trails off, her gaze drifting to the door beside mine where Jordan had been staying. “It’s just that a few guests have left after everything that happened, so we have some rooms available if you’d prefer to move to another floor.”

“No, thank you. I’m quite comfortable right here, Mrs. Trott.”

“Really? So you’re not thinking of leaving?” I shake my head. “Oh, that’s marvelous news. I surely needed some today, after…”

I don’t point out that she doesn’t finish her thought again, mostly because I don’t think she can bear to say the words out loud. And who could blame her? I doubt having a guest fall to her death from one of your balconies is covered in the B&B owner’s handbook.

“Well, if you need anything to make your stay more enjoyable, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She smiles, though the sadness in her eyes tells me she’s putting on a brave face for my sake.

“I will.” I smile back.

Mrs. Trott gives me a thankful nod before heading downstairs. I walk over to the rail, my gloves holding onto it as I take a peek down to the lobby where I see a few familiar faces from Fairhope High.

I have to agree with Cathie on this one—holding a ladies’ luncheon on the same day one of their classmates died is in pretty fucking disgusting. But it’s hardly the worst thing some of these women have done, and I doubt it’ll be the last.

Well. Can’t hide here all day. Guess it’s time to meet the vultures.

After returning to my room to grab my purse and phone, I close the door behind me and walk downstairs, head held high. I ignore the spiders skittering up my spine as a few of the women congregating in the lobby stop mid-conversation to stare at me.

Since none of them bother to greet me by name, I don’t bother stopping to say hello. Keeping my expression as blank as possible, I make my way to the back garden, where the brunch is being held.

The second I step outside, it’s obvious Mrs. Trott put plenty of effort into the event. A large white tent stretches across the lawn, sheltering at least a dozen round tables draped in white linens and set with simple floral centerpieces. Along one side, a long table is laid out with platters of food, while a smaller one nearby has been turned into a makeshift bar. It’s elegant without being over-the-top.

The rest of the garden has been left open to the crisp October air, where small groups of women have already spilled out onto the lawn, sipping mimosas beneath maples blazing with shades of red, orange, and gold.

The whole scene looks like it belongs in an episode of Gilmore Girls, which would be charming if one of the guests hadn’t left here in a body bag a couple of hours ago.

I hover at the edge of the lawn, suddenly unsure what the hell I’m supposed to do with myself. A few familiar faces catch my eye, but instead of coming over to talk to me, they turn back to their little groups. More than once, I catch someone glancing my way before leaning closer to whisper something into another woman’s ear.

Awesome. I don’t have to hear a word to know exactly who they’re talking about.

The discomfort crawling beneath my skin eases when Sienna appears from behind the house and starts making her way toward me.

“There you are. I was starting to worry that you had bailed on me and left for D.C.”

“Why?” She arches a brow. “Oh, because Jordan died? Dead bodies don’t frazzle me. Kind of comes with the job.” I frown at her statement.