out-of-town guests, and Alice is entertaining Caleb and Maisey with some crazy tale about her dream of being an aerialist in a traveling circus.
“Is everything all right? Your phone was beeping so I brought it out,” Bridget says, lowering her voice as she pours me more water. “I thought perhaps it was someone saying they can’t make the christening.”
“It’s nothing.” Of course I know it’s anything but, even though I haven’t had the courage to open the email yet. “Andrea sent her regrets.”
It’s a mistake to reference Eleanor’s party. My mother-in-law misses nothing when it comes to her soiree. “What did you say, Sarah? Who isn’t able to make it?”
Shit. It’s a fairly safe bet Eleanor would never have included down-to-earth Andrea on the guest list, but what if I’m wrong? I’d never intended my lie to be held up to close scrutiny. What if she asks to see the email?
“Andrea.”
Eleanor’s brow creases. “Who?”
“Andrea Waterton. She sits on the fair committee with you—she was the one with the booth across from mine this year.”
As my mother-in-law makes a big show of looking perplexed—tapping her chin, staring at the ceiling, and finally shaking her head—I’m tempted to hurl my slice of melon at her. Why does she always have to butt in? Why can’t she mind her own business?
Then again, she thinks this is about the party, and as far as she’s concerned, the party is her business.
“I don’t think I invited the Watertons. In fact, I’m positive I didn’t.”
Whew. “I had her on my list. She was one of mine.”
Eleanor starts to speak, and my hands ball into fists under the table. Fuck. She’s going to contradict me. I was an idiot to believe I’d get away with this bit of subterfuge. She has both lists memorized—this party is an obsession with her.
“What’s the problem?” Warwick raises an eyebrow at me. I don’t miss the threat in his voice, and I’m sure no one else does, either. I’ve been avoiding him as much as possible, delaying coming to bed until I’m positive he’ll be asleep.
“There’s no problem. Andrea Waterton let me know she won’t be able to make the party tomorrow, that’s all.”
“Who’s Andrea Waterton?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“She’s a friend of mine. It’s not important, really. I’ll catch up with her later.”
“Speaking of the party, is there anything I can do to help, Eleanor? I’ve checked my busy schedule and it turns out I have a free morning.”
Caleb’s diversion does the trick. My mother-in-law is well accustomed to issuing orders, and my stepbrother soon has a litany of to-dos that should keep him busy until the afternoon, if not beyond.
That was close. I’ll have to be more careful, unless I want everyone to know about the emails. That would only lead to more questions I can’t answer.
As soon as I’m confident no one is looking, I slip my napkin onto my lap, careful to keep my phone concealed beneath it. From there, it’s easy to hide the device in my pocket.
“Sarah?”
Startled, I realize Maisey has been talking to me. Did she see me pocket my phone like I’ve got something to hide? Christ, why didn’t I just act normally?
“Sorry, I was off in la-la land again. What did you say?”
“I asked if you’d like to go for a walk along the beach with me after breakfast. I’ve been running every morning since I got here. I can’t get enough of the sand. I thought it would be nice to walk together.”
The idea of walking on the sand in the broiling sun is about as appealing as having my teeth pulled.
“Oh, that’s a lovely idea. The exercise would do you a world of good,” Eleanor jumps in.
“I’m sure it would, but I have a to-do list of my own to tackle.” I infuse my words with so much fake cheer it makes me want to puke. I’m starting to become a Stepford wife. “Rain check?”
My sister’s face is flushed, and I notice she avoids Eleanor’s eyes. “Sure,” she says quickly. “Not a problem. There’s always tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Yet another day of waltzing through minefields. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
The second I’m able to escape the breakfast table, I retreat to my dressing room. This time I’m careful to lock the bedroom door behind me. There will be no more unexpected guests, not today.
My hands shake as I pull out my phone. The best thing to do would be to ignore it. Move it to the trash folder with the others, unread.
Tempting, but impossible. I have to read it. It’s a compulsion.
No one can run forever.
Sinking to the floor of my walk-in closet, I read the short sentence over and over again. The timing is a terrible coincidence.
Did someone see Caleb follow me into the nursery yesterday? Did they hear our conversation?
But that would mean someone close to me—someone in this very house—is sending me these awful threats. I can’t seriously consider that possibility. My nerves are already shot. Though I’d done my best to be the perfect host during last night’s dinner, I was petrified Warwick would see the truth of what I was feeling on my face.
Bridget has seemed cooler toward me, more formal, and I’m worried about what that means, assuming it means anything. Is she preoccupied? Stressed about the party? Or does she know what’s going on between Caleb and me?
Not that there’s anything going on, not really.
My stepbrother had been polite but distant all evening, lavishing more attention than usual on my mother and sister. They’d both bought into it, flattered by his interest. Even after his revelation, I couldn’t help but be envious of their easy relationship with him. Why were things always more complicated with me? Not for the first time, I wondered if we’d wrecked everything when we’d turned a wonderful friendship into a love affair. But we’d been dumb kids—what did we know about consequences?
No one can run forever.
It didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t exactly taken out an ad in the paper when I’d left Manhattan, but it wasn’t like I’d gone to any great lengths to hide, either. I’d taken Warwick’s last name when I married him. It wouldn’t be difficult for a client like Dan or Harvey to locate me if they wanted to, as Di had pointed out. So why the reference to running?
I’m pretending the emails don’t bother me, but they’re always at the back of my mind. Lately I’ve been spending most of my time in the nursery with Elliot. It’s about the only place I feel safe. Someone wants me to be miserable, that much is clear—but who?
If Truth Seeker had hoped to deter me
