Chapter 1
Every plan is more exciting when you’re the only one who knows it.
This was Danika Crawley’s first thought as she entered the Club’s main dining room, immediately plucking a glass of champagne
from a passing waiter’s tray. She took a sip and studied the room over the rim of the glass, pretending she didn’t notice
the flutter of eyes moving over her like hummingbirds across a flower. Not that she minded. It was expected. After all, she
hadn’t been to the Club in a full week—not since the incident—and she was prepared. Let them look. She shook back her dark blond hair and straightened her spine.
Danika and her husband, Bill, walked together toward their table. While the staff always shifted the dining room for events—including
tonight’s Champagne and Caviar Happy Hour—they left the tables on the perimeter untouched. That was to say, they left the
old money’s standing reservations, untouched. Danika was relieved to have a destination as they crossed the room, splitting
the sea of boring blue ties and midi floral cocktail dresses.
She was also relieved to see Frank and Holly Fravel already at their table as they approached. Despite the facts that Frank was their lawyer and that Danika didn’t have any real friends, she did like Holly best; they were both from California and hated all the same people.
“Hello, bombshell,” Holly sang as she grabbed Danika’s hand and raised it as if to twirl her in a waltz. “Is this new?”
“Ninety-nine percent off.” Danika smoothed her new indigo silk jumpsuit down her thighs. This was one of their inside jokes:
making fun of the way Minnesotans downplayed compliments, shoving their humility toward you like a gift you didn’t want.
“I like this, too.” Danika nodded to Holly’s billowing black pants and fitted black vest.
“Must continue my reign as the Gothic Queen of Aldon Lakes.”
Danika lifted her drink in a cheers. She appreciated how Holly only wore dark colors and sharp lines, which suited her jet-black
hair, thick eyebrows, and angular checkmark cheekbones.
Danika took a long, unsteady sip as she turned to the room, trying to quell the adrenaline coursing through her. Part of her
wished she could’ve told Holly, or Bill even, her plan for the evening, but it would have been too embarrassing to admit how
desperate she was to regain power over the narrative—how eager she was to take control of the gossip that had surely been
floating through the hallways and locker rooms and out onto the golf course over the past week. It wasn’t that she had been
hiding; she simply hadn’t wanted to face any questions or flat expressions of concern until she had a tangible solution.
Now, as she glanced at her Rolex and registered it was just after six—one hour to go—the buzz felt better than the drink.
“Upgrade?” Bill said as a waiter arrived with a new bottle of champagne.
Bill’s thick chestnut hair caught the light of the chandelier as he draped one arm around Danika’s waist. They always acted more intimate at the Club than at home, though neither would acknowledge such a thing.
Even now, his touch felt foreign and awkward. It’d been so long.
“Always one step ahead of us, my guy. The stuff they’re passing is shit.” Frank Fravel clapped Bill’s shoulder as he swiveled
toward them, his large stomach swinging to the center of their group like a compass.
As Danika registered the six-hundred-dollar bottle, it warmed her to know Bill would not offer anyone else a splash. Despite
his decades in the Midwest—his family started one of the oldest dairy cooperatives in the state—Bill had never caught on to
the practice of Minnesota Nice. This was one trait she genuinely loved about him: He had always been straightforward, honest.
“You spoil us,” Holly said as the waiter filled her glass.
“Only the best for the best.” Bill winked.
This was one of Bill’s less desirable traits: He had always been a flirt.
The four continued drinking and chatting as they nestled the bottle on ice. Yet as the string quartet switched to a cello-heavy
cover of Justin Bieber and everyone’s conversations grew louder, Danika heard two familiar voices nearby and took a deep breath.
She’d been preparing for this moment, aware that as soon as she laid eyes on Robin Greene and Mallory Harrison, she’d feel
a flash of unease, instantly plunged back to last Wednesday, with all the embarrassment and chaos.
The day had started normally enough. She and the boys were still getting used to their summer schedule, shuffling from Cooper’s art camp to soccer camp to tennis lessons at the Club.
Cooper had more energy than the average five-year-old, and he loved bouncing from activity to activity.
It was less ideal for Danika and two-year-old Max, but at least Max loved riding in the car, and all around, they were making it work.
Cooper’s lessons were at the lower courts from four to five, which meant that when Danika and Max went to pick him up that
afternoon, the women’s pairs were about to kick off. This was why Robin and Mallory were stretching nearby. At ages sixty
and thirty-five respectively, they were the unique, dynamic duo to beat.
The sun was strong, and Danika had pulled Max toward the shade of the snack shack as they waited for Cooper to finish. They’d
only been there a moment when Robin and Mallory appeared beside them, ordering waters.
“I wish they would push these matches back a half hour,” Robin said. She wore a fitted white tennis dress that was age appropriate
but slightly sexy all the same. “I know the Cities are close, but it still takes me thirty minutes to get out here and change.
It’s a rush.”
Mallory nodded sympathetically as she adjusted the zipper of her similar, yet shorter, white dress. “I know, I’m spoiled the
hotel is so close.”
Behind her sunglasses, Danika rolled her eyes. Everyone knew Robin Greene was the CFO at U.S. Bank and that Mallory ran the
Hotel Harrison, her family’s famous lakeside hotel. Both were always bragging about their jobs as if little “boss bitch” charms
dangled from their bracelets of accolades. Danika often felt all women at the Club wore these metaphorical bracelets, showing
off markers of pedigree, family, money, beauty, career, tennis or golf prowess. Danika never used to mind. When they had first
moved to Aldon Lakes six years ago, she’d had charms of her own! She was worldly. Younger. Prettier. Edgier. She used to revel
in looking down on all the sheltered, incestuous people of Aldon Lakes. Though now, at thirty-two, she was beginning to feel
like one of them. And worse: one they kept on the outside.
“Oh hi, sweetie,” Robin said as Max weaved around their legs.
“Sorry,” Danika said as she grabbed Max’s hand.
“I just love his white blond hair.” Robin ruffled it. “Such a beach babe.”
Danika focused on Max, pained to know Robin had lost one of her own sons years ago. That was a confusing emotion for Danika:
feeling sympathy for people you didn’t like.
“He’s so big for two,” Mallory said with a smile. This was another confusing reality: how everyone in Aldon Lakes knew everything
about one another—the ages of sons, their birthdays, even—yet otherwise acted like strangers.
“You all off to a fun summer?” Robin interjected, still petting Max’s head.
“Yes, busy as always.” Danika glanced to Cooper loitering about the courts. “A bit stressful, actually, because I’m headed
back to work, and I need to find a nanny.”
Danika didn’t know why she had said this. While it was true—Bill had asked her at the last minute to help with his new housing
development—she had wanted the news to filter slowly. Saying it now felt desperate, even to her. Regardless, she enjoyed the
surprise falling across Robin’s and Mallory’s faces.
“I’ll be designing a model home.” Danika locked on to Mallory’s doe eyes. Years ago, she had offered Mallory a design consultation
for the Hotel Harrison’s revamp, and while Mallory had been as fake-polite as ever, she had never followed up. Danika knew
what she thought: Danika’s run-of-the-mill design certificate meant nothing. Danika couldn’t wait to blow everyone away. The
model home would be perfect. Stunning.
“That’s wonderful,” Mallory said. “But, gosh, Danika, I’m not sure what to tell you about the nanny. I wish I could help. It’s already June.” She grimaced. “Everyone qualified was snatched up months ago.”
Robin commiserated. “It really is hard to find good help these days. I swear everything was easier back in my time. I feel
for you young mothers. I really do.”
Danika’s jaw tightened. Condescension dripped from each of them like sweat.
Of course, soon the day’s drama would eclipse these remarks—everything that happened next was far worse.
Cooper had always had a knack for wandering. Danika had lost him several times, including at the Galleria two months prior.
While she had been extra careful since, as she watched the other children clear the courts, dread seeped into her bones. She
immediately sensed what was happening. She turned around and around, calling his name.
Nothing.
Naturally, everyone began to help. The tennis coaches swore he had just been there; the tennis ladies were aghast with worry.
Danika felt self-conscious at first, but ten minutes later, all she felt was fear. Highway 15 ran beyond the Club’s parking
lot—and Cooper, who’d follow anything from a wandering butterfly to a stray ball, was rarely aware of his surroundings. Will this be it? she suddenly thought. The next tragedy to define my life?