Chapter Seventy-Six Kiersten
Chapter Seventy-Six
Kiersten
The doorbell rang, and Kiersten stopped reading. “I’ll get it,” she said, putting the diary down and rising from the table.
“Wait,” Piper said. “I’ll come with you . . . just in case.”
“Just in case it’s another . . . sex man,” Rosamund said as she grabbed a pair of children’s blunt-tipped Hello Kitty scissors, prepared, apparently, for anything.
They moved through the foyer together and clustered around the front door, where Kiersten looked through the peep hole. Her body stiffened.
She swallowed. “It’s Chip Davis.”
“Pretend everything is normal,” Piper muttered.
She nodded. Easier said than done with the son of a murderer standing on your front porch.
Then she took a deep breath and opened the door. “Good morning!”
He gave her a wide smile. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Oh no,” she said. “Just taking a little break while the kids have recess.”
“Looks like they’re having a great time,” he said, jutting his chin toward the cul-de-sac, where the kids did jumping jacks with Reggie.
“Anyway, I don’t want to disturb you. I’m just here to pick up those other diaries.
My parents finished reading the first one.
They still don’t have a clue who wrote them, but they’d be happy to read the next two and see if they can learn anything helpful. ”
She twisted her fingers, stalling for time as she tried to come up with a suitable excuse. “Oh. Gosh. That’s really kind.”
“But unfortunately, you’re too late,” Piper said, coming to her rescue.
“She donated them,” Rosamund added.
Kiersten nodded vigorously. She couldn’t lie on the fly, but she could back up the lies told by more capable liars.
“That’s right,” Piper said. “To the Fairfax County Historical Society.”
“A friend of mine runs it,” Rosamund said.
“But he’s traveling right now,” Kiersten interjected.
“He’s in Japan,” Piper said.
“For the next three months,” Rosamund added.
His eyes narrowed as he scanned their faces. “I see.”
“We’ve sort of given up . . .” Kiersten added nervously. “On trying to find out who wrote those diaries. It’s just so long ago . . . and I’m sure whoever wrote them is dead by now.”
“You’re probably right,” he said with a smooth smile. “Well, I hope the historical society puts them to good use.”
“I’m sure they will,” Kiersten said firmly. “You know historical societies . . . they love . . . things . . . that are . . . historical.”
For a brief moment his eyes went cold, and Kiersten caught a glimpse of the man behind the affable mask. Ruthless. Angry. Manipulative.
Like father, like son.
A prickle of fear caressed the back of her neck.
Then that smooth smile appeared again. “I’ve come here for another reason, as well,” Chip said.
“What’s that?” Kiersten asked. Her face felt like a plaster cast, capable of cracking at any moment.
“I’m here to extend an invitation, on behalf of my daughter-in-law, Aspen. She’s throwing a little party tomorrow afternoon, at her place. Wine, champagne, and a few of her influencer friends. And she’d love it if you all could drop by.”
“What’s the occasion?” Piper asked.
“She gets so many things for free,” he said, with a bemused shake of his head.
“Beauty products. Clothes. Shoes. Sometimes she invites friends over for spa days or makeovers, things like that. She’s going to have a masseuse.
And a tarot-card reader. And one of those people who analyzes your skin tones and tells you what colors to wear. ”
“Oh gosh. We’d sure love to be there,” Kiersten said, cranking up the dial on her Minnesota accent. “But unfortunately, we have the kids so . . .” She shrugged and spread her arms in an oh-well-too-bad-maybe-next-time gesture.
“That’s not a problem. The kids are welcome,” he said, waving this concern away. “We’ll have childcare. Games. All kinds of activities. It would mean the world to Aspen.”
He took a step closer, and Kiersten forced herself not to shrink away.
He lowered his voice. “Frankly, I think she’s a little worried no one will show up.
You see, she has a lot of online friends, but she doesn’t have many friends in real life.
And she’s pretty stressed out right now, with the homeschooling and content creation and this TV deal in the works. ”
He looked up at the sky and blinked rapidly, as though seeking answers from the heavens.
Then he turned back to Kiersten. “She could really benefit from the friendship and wisdom of some older moms . . . moms who aren’t all wrapped up in the number of followers they have.
If you could just stop by for one glass of champagne, she’d be grateful. I’d be grateful too.”
Kiersten shot a look at Rosamund, whose nostrils had flared at the phrase older moms. Then she glanced at Chip again. He looked so earnest, his brow creased with concern about his young daughter-in-law. His eyes were even a little red. Was he on the verge of tears?
She felt a flash of disgust.
Kiersten knew she could be naive, that she was sometimes kind and generous to a fault.
But her open, trusting nature had given her one tool that fake and insincere people lacked.
She had a finely calibrated bullshit meter. And Chip’s crocodile tears tripped every alarm inside her body. It blared like a World War II submarine caught in a torpedo strike. AWOOGA AWOOGA.
She shot a look at Piper, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
Aspen needed extra bodies to build a crowd and make the party look good on Instagram?
Fine. They’d allow Aspen to use them as props again, just like they did at the Harvest Festival.
But this time, they’d use Aspen’s event to investigate Richard, Chip, and Trey.
“We’d love to come.” Kiersten managed to infuse her words with warmth. “Wouldn’t we?” she asked, turning to Piper and Rosamund.
“Sure,” Piper said with enthusiasm.
“We’d be delighted,” Rosamund added.
“Wonderful.” A giant smile creased Chip’s handsome face. “I appreciate this. I really do.”
He headed across the street, to the construction site next door to his parents’ house. Then he entered the skeletal structure of the new home and disappeared inside.