Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
After dinner, Pierce and Preston disappear to Pierce’s office, already deep in quiet conversation.
Simon and Duncan invite Warren to the porch for drinks and cigars.
Rachelle declares she’s going to take a bubble bath, and shortly after, I retreat to Simon’s old bedroom with plans to take a bath myself and relax.
I’ve never been so thankful that each of the rooms here has an en suite, though I know that’s normal and expected for the Mornings. As I soak in the bath, I think back over the day. The little girl’s voice keeps repeating in my head. She sounded so lost. So scared.
So real.
I keep trying to find explanations for it.
Maybe it really was a prank. That’s what the Mornings believe.
But if not, then what? Maybe she lives nearby and was playing with a walkie-talkie of some kind.
Maybe it was a joke, and she got caught, had the walkie taken away.
Maybe they didn’t want their daughter talking to some stranger through the line.
Even if it was a real girl, all of these theories make sense, but they don’t ease my worry. I find my thoughts returning to her over and over again, no matter how often I try to force them onto something—anything—else.
I wash my body.
My hair.
I deep condition while I shave my legs.
Then, I’m out, and I tuck myself inside one of the robes their housekeeper, Lucy, left for us. I’m not a robe person at home, really, but here, I try to be.
It’s embarrassing how badly I want to fit in with the Mornings. How badly I want to feel like I belong here, though I fear I never will.
Speaking of…
I wipe the mirror clean and lift the bottle of body oil from the side of the bathtub. Rachelle uses it after every bath and keeps full-sized bottles stocked for guests to use and take home. Santal Gray.
The scent is warm, soft, and subtle. I pump three drops into my palm and massage it into my damp skin, the scent filling the room.
Then again. And again.
Until my entire body is drenched, expensive, elegant.
I dry my hands and search for my hairbrush. I could’ve sworn I left it next to the sink this morning, but it’s not there. I move to the bedroom, digging through my weekender bag, where a few odds and ends haven’t yet been unpacked.
It’s not there.
I pace. Think.
Where did I leave it? I check the bed, the nightstand.
The bathroom again.
In the mirror, I run my hands through my hair, huffing out a long breath. The bathroom is steamy—too hot now. I’m suffocating. I move back out, fanning myself with both hands in the bedroom.
A knock sounds at the door, and I stop in my tracks. “Simon?”
“It’s me.” Marlie.
“Oh. Sorry. Just a second.” I grab my pajamas from the edge of the bed and clean underwear from the drawer of my nightstand, dressing quickly.
Finally, I run my hands through my hair again and clear my throat. “Come in.”
The door opens slowly, and Marlie pops her head inside, hand around the door so I can see her long, thin fingers. “Are we interrupting?”
“Not at all.” I sit down on the bed, tucking my legs up under myself.
I pat the velvet comforter as all three of my sisters-in-law cross the threshold.
Marlie pops up onto the bed in front of me, followed by Vic.
Polly shuts the door and is the last to join us, perching carefully on the edge of the bed.
Marlie drops forward on the comforter, cheek resting in her palm. “You disappeared after dinner. We didn’t get a chance to check in.”
“I know, sorry. I felt gross after cleaning all day.” I gesture toward my hair. Please don’t bring it up again. “Much better now.”
She gives a small bow of her head, drumming her fingers on the comforter. “Sorry about that. I hate that you’ve come all this way just to be put to work.”
My lips curve into a frown. “Don’t apologize. It’s what family is for. Simon and I are happy to help.”
A thoughtful hum escapes her lips. “So, how are things with you guys? Simon doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Things are fine. We’re both just so happy for you.”
She sighs, examining her engagement ring with a soft smile. The vintage silver ring glints in the light. “Yeah. Warren’s pretty incredible.”
“Oh, yes. I heard how incredible he was last night,” Vic teases, wiggling her eyebrows, tongue pressed between her teeth.
Marlie covers her face and groans. “Oh, shut up. You did not. We really tried to keep quiet.”
“Well, you failed,” Vic says, swatting her leg. “But, hey, good for you. Honestly. I remember those days well.”
“And then came kids,” Polly says with a dry laugh, picking at a loose thread on the leg of her slacks.
“Here, here.” Vic pretends to lift a glass, and Polly mimics her. The two imaginary glasses meet in the air, and the women giggle. “Most nights, I’m like, we could totally do it right now…or I could zone out to mindless TV and not be needed by anyone for an hour. TV usually wins.”
Polly’s lip tugs up with a small, lopsided smile. Her eyes flick to Marlie. “So, you two lovebirds should enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Sounds like we’d better,” Marlie agrees. “I don’t think that’ll ever be us, though. I can’t get enough of him.” She bites her bottom lip, cheeks going pink.
Vic reaches around me, grabs a pillow and shoves it into Marlie’s face. We all burst into laughter, and for the moment, I’m so grateful for the sisterhood I’ve built here within this family.
Growing up an only child, there were moments I dreamed of what it would be like to have sisters. I suspect I’m even luckier than I could’ve hoped for.
Marlie props the pillow under her chin, wrapping both arms around it. “Hey, random subject change here, but how are you doing after the radio thing?”
The air shifts; my stomach tenses. “I’m…okay, I guess. Unnerved a bit, if I’m honest. Duncan told me someone died in the guest house, so I guess that doesn’t help.”
Marlie’s face goes still, her eyes traveling upward toward the ceiling as if she’s trying to decide what to do. Finally, her gaze falls back to mine, decision made. “Yeah. Our gardener. Patu, but we called him Pat. It was years ago. I was…twelve, I think.”
“What happened?” Vic asks before I get the chance, her eyes wide.
“Ooh. He fell off the roof?” Marlie says, but it sounds like a question, her eyes squinting as if she’s trying to remember.
“I was away at cheer camp that summer, so I didn’t learn about it until weeks after it happened.
Mom and Dad tried to keep me as removed from it as possible, but from what I think I remember…
there was something about a fall. I swear it was from a roof but maybe don’t quote me on that.
He was working on a roof, and he fell? Maybe? ”
“The gardener was working on your roof?” Vic asks, brow pinched in concentration.
“He was sort of all-encompassing after our normal maintenance guy retired a few years earlier.” She pauses. “He was—Pat was—well, he’d been around all my life. He lived in the guest house with his daughter until it happened.”
“What happened to the daughter?” Polly asks, a hand to her chest.
“Lia. We were around the same age, er, well, she was a year older, I think. Anyway, I guess she moved in with her grandparents or an aunt or uncle after...everything.” Marlie winces.
“I wish I remembered more, but it sort of became this taboo thing to talk about. It upset Mom so much. Plus, it was, like, a long time ago.”
“Right, but like, kind of a big deal, though,” I say softly.
Marlie nods. “It was, yeah. But I was also a pretty self-absorbed kid. The boys were here that summer, that’s why they remember most of it. But it’s not like any of us enjoy talking about it, you know?”
“Simon won’t tell me anything. I was going to try to look it up, but I felt weird about that.”
“You won’t find anything anyway. Mom and Dad kept it out of the news,” Marlie says. “Worried someone would turn it into something it wasn’t.”
“That’s awful,” Polly says softly.
Unease settles across the room, and awful is about the nicest way I can think of to describe it.
Later, once my sisters-in-law have left, and I’m alone in my room, I find myself on the computer researching, though it turns out Marlie is right. There’s not a trace of the story online.
As far as the internet is concerned, Pat and his daughter, Lia, never existed. Unease settles over me as I realize just how easy it was for the Mornings to protect themselves, to keep anything remotely harmful from ever seeing the light of day.
When Simon enters the bedroom, it’s late. I close my laptop and set it next to me on the nightstand.
“How’d it go with Warren?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “He’s all right, I guess.”
“I really like him,” I say. “He makes Marlie happy.”
“Yeah, well, my sister isn’t exactly hard to please.” He stops at the dresser, pulling a pajama set from the drawer. “What’ve you been up to?”
“Oh, I took a bath.”
His brow rises. “You didn’t wait for me?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to,” I tease, biting the tip of my tongue.
He hums with displeasure. “I’ll remember that.”
I laugh.
“And then?” he prompts. “After the bath.”
“Um…well, the girls came in for a while. And then I just…doomscrolled online.”
He crosses the room, pausing before he reaches the bathroom door. “Anything interesting?”
“Not particularly.”
He nods with a long yawn, then turns to walk away. Before he disappears into the bathroom, I adjust in bed.
“Hey, Simon?”
“Yeah?” He pauses and glances back.
I swallow, the words resting on the edge of my tongue, and yet, I can’t bring myself to say them. To ask the question. “Never mind.” I shake my head, forcing a smile.
He hesitates just a moment longer, and then he’s gone.