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Oriana raised her shoulders. “Manhattan has gotten crazy expensive over the years. I guess he just picked up odd work for rich people.”
Brea continued to frown at her, clearly uninterested in that explanation. “But isn’t it a little too much of a coincidence?”
Oriana wasn’t sure what Brea meant. But before she could answer, the doorbell rang downstairs, and Reese hollered up, “Meghan is here!”
A cold, hard stone fell into Oriana’s gut. She realized she hadn’t been in contact with her sister over the past few days— a result of her selfishness and fears. Brea’s smile opened her face, and she scampered through the door and down the staircase with Oriana hot on her heels.
“Brea? Oh my gosh!” Meghan’s jaw dropped.
As Brea swallowed Meghan in a hug, Oriana’s knees wavered beneath her, threatening to give out. These were two of her favorite people in the world, genuinely overcome with joy at seeing one another again.
“What are you doing here?” Meghan asked, breathless. The door remained open behind her, and a cold autumn breeze wafted through.
Brea glanced back at Oriana, who remained on the staircase. “Oriana came and dragged me out of Thailand.”
Meghan laughed gently. Her eyes were filled with forgiveness as she recognized Oriana had had quite a bit on her plate. She didn’t even know the half of it.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Oriana asked with her hand around her throat. “Brea and I have something to tell you.”
Meghan’s shoulders dropped forward. All she’d wanted all these years was Oriana’s honesty and her friendship. All she’d wanted was to support her.
Oriana should have told her everything about the blackmailer from the start.
* * *
Over the next hour, locked away in the guest bedroom, Oriana and Brea explained everything about the years between 1998 and 2000 to Meghan, along with the updated information from the previous few weeks. Meghan sat wide-eyed, not touching her coffee, her arms crossed over her chest.
“And then, Oriana just called Grant’s private detective, and it was a guy we knew back in Manhattan,” Brea finished. “I mean, that’s weird, right?”
“It’s really weird.” Meghan’s eyes glinted with intrigue. “Have you told Grant about that?”
“It just happened before you got here,” Oriana explained. “But I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Nick is just that kind of guy, you know? I used to run into him all over the city. I just did, in fact, at that party earlier this month. He knows everyone, makes money however he can, that kind of thing.”
Meghan and Brea gave one another doubtful glances.
“I have a suggestion,” Meghan said. “Why don’t we go to Nantucket and explain what you just learned about Nick to Grant? Maybe he’ll have more information about him.”
“Information that either clears his name or…” Brea began as Oriana waved her hands.
“I don’t think Nick did anything wrong. He’s just a money guy,” Oriana said. “But okay. Let’s go to Nantucket. Why not?” She eyed Brea. “If anything, it’s just part of the grand, ‘Welcome back to the United States, Brea!’ Tour.”
“Glad to join up,” Meghan quipped.
After a series of text messages with Grant, it was decided that they would meet at Roland’s home early evening for dinner with the two brothers. Oriana and Brea decided to pack for the trip to New York and leave from Nantucket the following day; Meghan insisted on going with them and immediately went home to pack her own bag.
“We’ve carried this secret for decades,” Oriana said. “And now, it seems like everyone and their mother knows about it.”
“Not Reese,” Brea reminded her.
Oriana’s heart dropped into her gut. “I can’t tell him now. I don’t know what he’ll say. If he reacts negatively, I don’t want to have to think about it throughout the trip to Nantucket and the city.” After another pause, she added, “But you’re right. I should tell him.”
“He would want to know,” Brea told her.
“Did you ever tell Kenny?”
Brea shook her head. “But I was living in a fantasy world. I thought everything had turned out all right.”
Oriana drove Meghan and Brea toward the Edgartown docks, where a ferry picked them up and sailed them over to Nantucket. By five-thirty, the three of them were at the front door of the massive Coleman Family House— an estate, more like.
