Chapter 31
Pure adrenaline flooded Ingrid’s body. Her own mother had left her on her grandmother’s doorstep, but she never imagined a mother could do something like this to her own daughter. Say such cutting, vile words to her face.
It was unthinkable. So cruel, and she found herself wanting to feel Scoot’s neck in her hands. Wanting to squeeze until the woman choked on every word she had said.
“For fuck’s sake, Scoot,” Rill yelled. “That’s your daughter you’re speaking to.”
But Scoot’s face twisted in an ugly snarl as she jabbed her finger at Sailor. “You are so easily led astray—”
“Shut up!” Sailor screamed at Scoot. “Just shut up!” She grabbed Ingrid by the arm and pulled her back out into the hall where she collapsed again into Ingrid’s arms again, shaking and sobbing like a child.
Ingrid could hear Scoot ranting on to Rill. She caught snatches, words and phrases. Slumming … trash … devil worshipping … Ingrid held Sailor as tightly as she could, as if she could physically shield her from the onslaught.
She realized Sailor was talking, babbling over her shoulder. “… we were having a great time on Jude’s boat, in the marsh, watching the sunset. She was drinking, of course, like always. Cas said he liked you … that’s what really did it … all he said was he liked you …”
“That’s enough!” Ingrid heard Rill shout in the drawing room.
“I should take care of her,” Scoot yelled back. “Fix her little red wagon, just like I did her grandmother.”
Ingrid’s whole body went rigid.
Fix her little red wagon?
What was that supposed to mean?
Sailor was still talking. “… just saying stuff about how Edie was always around before she and Dad got married. How she was supposedly after Dad, whatever that means. And then she started in on you …”
Ingrid barely heard her, her mind was clicking through the new information so quickly. What had Scoot done to Edie? She wanted to push Sailor off her and rush into the room, grab Scoot, and shake her until the truth fell out.
Sailor extricated herself from Ingrid’s hold and sniffed and wiped her face.
“Jude wouldn’t even come back in the car with us.
The whole way back from the yacht club she wouldn’t stop.
All the way home, she just kept at it. But she doesn’t even see the truth.
She’s the one who’s delusional. She’s obsessed and paranoid. ”
“Sailor, I’m so sorry.” Ingrid forced herself to focus on her friend. Now was not the time to tell Sailor that she’d discovered that it was true that Rill and Edie had meant more to each other than was proper. Sailor’s world was falling apart, and she needed Ingrid by her side.
Sailor’s eyes were red, her nose was running. She blotted it on her sleeve. “You know her business isn’t even real, don’t you? Dad just set her up in that space and paid for all the inventory so he could get her out of the house and away from the booze.”
Ingrid’s brow knitted.
“She doesn’t have any clients—other than a friend who occasionally takes pity on her and hires her to redecorate a guest bedroom or a closet or carriage house or something.” Sailor rolled her watery eyes. “She’s horrible, Ingrid. A nightmare.”
“If me being here or being your friend is a problem, I’ll back off,” Ingrid said. “It’s not worth it, Sailor. Not if it’s going to ruin your wedding.”
“No,” Sailor said fervently. “She should be the one to go. She should be the one who has to walk away so the rest of us enjoy what’s meant to be a beautiful, loving, family event …” She dissolved into tears and Ingrid held her again. “Promise you won’t leave me, Ingrid. Promise.”
“I promise.” And Ingrid meant it.
But now it wasn’t just because she cared for Sailor.
Now, she realized, she had been brought here—into the Loefflers’ lives and their home—for a purpose.
She needed to know what Scoot had meant by fix her little red wagon.
She needed to know what Scoot had done to her grandmother.
Because it was clear now. Nothing could be clearer. Scoot Loeffler had somehow hurt Edie.
And, just like Edie had said, Ingrid was the only one who could right the balance.
Sailor was looking at her with a desperate expression. “Can you … will you consider doing something for me, Ingrid? Something about her?”
Ingrid frowned. “What do you mean?”
Sailor held her gaze. Her eyes blazed, and her voice was a fierce whisper. “Yes, you do, Ingrid. You know exactly I mean. I want you to do something about my mother. Stop her. With a spell.”
Ingrid was shaking her head. “No—”
“Yes.” Sailor lowered her voice even further. “I know I’ve joked about it before, but I’m being serious now. I want you to do a spell that makes her stop what’s she’s doing. Something that makes her just … go away. A hex.”
Ingrid gave her a horrified look. “No, Sailor. You don’t want to do that. I’m telling you—”
“I do want you to do it.” Tears were coursing down her cheeks. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m so tired of her hurting me. Hurting all of us.” Sailor’s eyes bored into hers. “Ingrid, I’m begging you. Hex her. Hex my mother.”
Ingrid hesitated. They had just entered dangerous territory. A place Edie had warned her never to go. But she couldn’t find it in her heart to outright deny Sailor. The girl was heartbroken. Desperate. She heard an echo of Edie just then.
You must stay in the light …
But Edie wasn’t here. Not anymore.
She didn’t understand the full extent of how terrible this woman was.
“I would need a picture of her,” Ingrid said.
Sailor only hesitated a fraction of a second before stalking to a nearby table and returning with a small silver frame holding a photograph of Scoot.
She slapped it into Ingrid’s palm. Ingrid looked down at it.
Young Scoot, devastatingly beautiful with long silky hair and half-lidded cat eyes, stared at the camera like she was considering incinerating it to pure ash.
Sailor closed Ingrid’s fingers around the frame. The metal edges cut into Ingrid’s skin. “When will you do it?”
“I don’t know, Sailor. This is a really big deal.”
Sailor pressed her lips together. “You have to do it soon.”
“I don’t know—”
“Then I’ll find someone else,” Sailor countered.
Ingrid’s brow furrowed.
“Someone who understands what’s at stake.” Sailor’s voice was even.
“Sailor. I understand. I do.”
“Then do it tonight. Promise me.”
She hesitated.
“Ingrid.” Sailor’s face was a pale mask.
“I promise.” Ingrid’s voice was barely audible.
Sailor nodded, almost as if she was convincing herself that this thing, this agreement, must be.
Ingrid held the framed photo face-down against her stomach. “I should go.”
Sailor walked her to the door and gave her a swift hug. When Ingrid opened it, Miles was standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up at her with an expression of a contrite child.