Chapter 38
The only time Ingrid had set foot on a Savannah rooftop was once a year on St. Patrick’s Day as a guest of her friend Zoe, who worked as a nail tech at a spa on Broughton Street.
That roof, a flat expanse of asphalt with a handful of lawn chairs, was a premium spot for watching the parade.
Nothing like Peregrin, the rooftop bar at the Perry Lane Hotel.
This place was a different story altogether.
Even walking through the hotel lobby, Ingrid felt like a stray dog who accidentally wandered in from outside.
Upstairs, the view took her breath away.
At least five degrees cooler than down at street level, there was a clear view to the river and the ocean beyond, where tugboats puffed and barges hauled their goods.
The Talmadge Memorial Bridge with its clean, modern lines stretched over the river and crawled with traffic.
The bar was scattered with plush seating and wide umbrellas.
A cooling breeze ruffled palm fronds as a handful of patrons sipped Bloody Marys and mimosas.
She hadn’t really planned how she was going to do this, and she glanced around uncertainly.
There was one girl behind the bar. She had thick eyelash extensions and was deeply tanned, her dark hair slicked back into a low bun.
“Hi there,” the girl called out to Ingrid. “What can I get you to drink today?”
Ingrid perused the menu, trying not to curse at the prices. Even with the money she’d been saving since Sailor had taken her on, she’d never drop twelve dollars on a cocktail. “I’ll have a glass of chardonnay, I guess.”
“Great.” The bartender turned back to the bar and opened a bottle.
Ingrid leaned against the bar. “Hey, I’m Ingrid.”
“Darya.”
“Darya, I’m wondering … by any chance were you working here on a day in August? Saturday, the seventeenth?”
“No.” The bartender set Ingrid’s glass on a napkin. Poured in a generous amount of wine. “That would’ve been before I started.”
“Do you know who was working here that night? Right before closing? I wanted to ask if they saw someone up here. A friend of mine.”
The girl corked the bottle and started cutting lemons on a board. “Who?”
“Scoot Loeffler.”
The girl’s eyes flicked up to meet Ingrid’s then back down to the fruit. “You friends with the Loefflers?”
“Yes. I was … I’m their psychic. Just trying to help them out with a few things. I wondered if you heard who Scoot was drinking with that night. I heard it was a guy. A young guy.”
“Why don’t you have a seat over there?” She jutted her chin at a deserted corner of the rooftop. “When I get a sec, I’ll stop by with another drink.”
Ingrid chose a plush chair by the edge of the roof that was covered in shade, and settled in to sip the chilled wine.
She took off the mohair sweater. The church had been cold, but out here under the blazing sun, she’d started to warm up.
Just then, her phone trilled. It was a number she didn’t recognize.
“Ingrid White?”
Ingrid sipped her wine, which was making her feel at peace with the world. “Yes?”
“This is Poppy. Duncan. Sailor’s friend.”
Ingrid nearly choked on the wine and set down her glass. “Oh, hi. Hi, Poppy. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Poppy said. “Can you talk?”
“Sure.” Ingrid’s heart had started up a jagged, irregular beat.
There was silence for a moment. “Sailor doesn’t know I’m calling you,” Poppy said. “But I just didn’t know where to turn.”
“Do you want a reading?” Ingrid held her breath.
“No … ah.” Poppy was obviously having difficulty getting the words out. “I wanted to call you to let you know, as Sailor’s friend, that she’s have a really difficult time. With what happened to her mom and the wedding coming up and everything.”
Ingrid’s head felt floaty from the wine. She realized she hadn’t eaten anything that morning. “What do you mean?”
“Her mother had an accident and got arrested.”
“I know about Scoot—” Ingrid had said it a little too loud and now the bartender, Darya, was looking at her. She lowered her voice. “I mean, what’s Sailor doing?”
“She fired her wedding coordinator, for one thing. I think they worked it out, but there’s other stuff, too. Jude’s in Singapore and somebody saw Sailor out with this guy she used to date.”
Ingrid’s heart did a sudden sideway jag. “A guy? What guy?”
“This guy she dated in high school and, I don’t know, he was like a big-deal football player when he was eighteen, but now … he works crew on a shrimp boat, you know? Like he’s blue-collar.”
Ingrid couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but she held her tongue.
“And he has a wife, supposedly, somewhere, and kids. Like multiple kids.”
Okay. This was not good. “She didn’t break up with Jude, did she?”
“God, no,” Poppy said. “No, I don’t think so. It’s probably just … with her mom gone and everything blowing up the way it is … I think she’s like reaching out to people from her past to kind of, I don’t know, anchor her. But like, not an ex, you know? Not the right support system.”
“Yeah.” Ingrid was thinking.
“We don’t know what to do, frankly,” Poppy said.
“Why can’t you just talk to her?” Ingrid said impatiently. “You and Calla and Madeline?”
Poppy huffed. “Okay, but it’s not like we can just drop everything and hold her hand twenty-four seven.
My marketing company is taking off right now.
Madeline’s traveling constantly for her work.
And Calla’s … you know … got stuff, too.
” She hesitated. “Look, I don’t know why Sailor’s mad at you, Ingrid, but whatever it is, y’all need to work it out.
Like, just set up a lunch and have a conversation.
I’m sure you can work through whatever bad blood there is. ”
Someone was heading toward her now. Not Darya, the bartender, but a young man, tall and muscled, with thick red hair and a growth of reddish whiskers along his jaw.
He was holding an amber cocktail with a rim of brown sugar and a purple flower peeking over the edge. He stopped in front of her chair.
“Courtesy of the house,” he mouthed.
“Oh.” Ingrid glanced over at the bar.
“She’s training,” the redheaded guy said. “Made one for everybody.”
He was right. The other guests were toasting with a variety of fancy cocktails. He put the glass down and backed away.
“Ingrid?” Poppy. “Are you still there?”
“I appreciate the call, Poppy.” Ingrid picked up the drink and took a sip. It was fruity and tart and delicious. She licked a bit of sugar off the rim and took one more pull on the straw. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh God, Ingrid, thank you,” gushed Poppy. “Thank you so much. We all just, like, really need this wedding to go off without a hitch and, to be honest, it’s not looking like that’s going to happen if Sailor doesn’t pull herself together. Okay. Gotta run. I’ll see you soon. Bye!”
Ingrid tapped out of the call, set her phone down, and took another sip of her cocktail. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the cushion, letting the heat of the sun soothe her.
What an interesting development. Poppy, Madeline, and Calla on their knees, begging for her help.
It was no wonder Sailor had kept her so close that night of the engagement party.
These women were like a herd of gazelles.
They only cared about their own survival.
And they didn’t hesitate to leave behind their wounded.
Time passed and she slowly drained the drink.
She studied the empty glass and considered having another.
She looked around, noticing the other patrons were gone, and now she had the whole rooftop to herself.
She stood up, feeling herself wobble and the sky spin above her.
She closed her eyes. Held her arms out and found her equilibrium.
Focusing on the bar, she started toward it but stumbled over her own feet.
She stopped, waiting for her balance to catch up with her.
Waiting for the sky to stop that annoying spinning …
She gulped in a breath of air. It was so hot, and Goddess help her, it carried with it a whiff of trash. She tried to take another step toward the bar. Then one more … Now Darya the bartender was watching her with a strange expression. Ingrid lifted her finger. I want another, was what she thought.
What came out was “Somethin’ in my drink …”
Darya’s eyebrows shot up and her slim body went stiff. Ingrid’s mind zigzagged from thought to thought:
One, she seemed extraordinarily drunk for only having had two drinks.
Two, this had to do with her questions about the night Scoot was here.
Three, that man, the good-looking redhead, was heading toward her now, his muscular arms outstretched toward her.
Four, she had to get away from him.