Chapter 29
When I return to the Parkers’, my hands are still shaking.
I slip inside and shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it like I can somehow block out the world. Sweat streaks my hairline, raw scratches slash the side of my face, and blood beads along my wrists.
Fortunately, Eric, Olivia, and the kids are still playing on the patio. I hide the hunting knife in my drawer and check my watch. Five p.m. My mother will arrive in an hour.
I can’t let her see me like this.
I can’t let anyone see me like this.
Peeling off my clothes, I step into the shower and crank the faucet until the water scorches my skin. The hot spray bites at every cut and scrape, but I welcome it. The pain feels purifying, like I can rinse away Vivek’s grip, his sneer, his stench.
Pink water spirals down the drain.
His blood? Mine? Does it matter?
I could have killed him.
Maybe I should have.
Out of the shower, I towel off briskly, trying to shake the tremors from my fingers. They won’t stop. Even my lower lip trembles uncontrollably.
I riffle through my bag, fingers clumsy, until I find a small travel bottle of tequila. One pull, then another. The alcohol scorches my throat but stills my hands. Steady now. At least steady enough.
I slather bronzer over the cuts on my face, swipe concealer under my swollen eyes.
A long-sleeved striped wrap dress hides the scrapes on my arms. I sneak a glance in the full-length mirror.
I look presentable, but I notice that the nick in the glass from two nights ago has spread into a tiny crack.
The beginnings of a fracture. How would Laelynn react?
I swallow another shot of tequila to lock the thought of Laelynn and the memory of Vivek behind a heavy bolted door in my mind.
For now.
By the time my mother arrives, I’m sitting outside, inhaling an Eric Parker bootleg like oxygen. The evening is pure Minnesota magic—the sun stubbornly high despite the hour; the light turning gauzy and soft.
Mom, Olivia, and I lounge on pinstriped patio chairs.
The twins sit nearby, deep in a card game.
Eric flips burgers on the grill, whistling with effortless charm.
His apron reads Natural Born Griller. I study his seemingly guileless face, and I wonder about the man underneath—the one who makes secret land deals, who buys up property like it’s a game. The once and future king of Big Island.
Since Laelynn left, the air around here has felt lighter. Eric whistles, the girls laugh. It’s as if a pressure valve has been released and everyone is finally exhaling. But my hands still sting. My skin still burns. Underneath this postcard scene, this summer glow, something festers.
I sip my drink, hoping enough vodka might rinse the truth from my mind.
My mother looks over and smiles. “See, dear? I told you this vacation would restore you.”
If she only knew.
“You were right,” I lie, finishing my drink, tipping my glass, and standing. “Anyone need a refill?”
Mom frowns at her barely touched cocktail. “You’re done already? This isn’t college, dear.”
Olivia chortles. “Yeah, girl. We’re trying to float the boat, not sink the ship.”
I smile. “I’m on vacation.”
My mom sighs wistfully. “I could use a vacation.”
“You should take one,” I say, heading toward the grill. “When was your last?”
Olivia answers for her. “Um, never?”
Mom clicks her tongue. “Over a decade, probably.”
Eric spins, spatula in hand. “You haven’t vacationed in ten years? Julie, that’s criminal. Keep that up, you’ll have a breakdown.”
She sighs, and her gaze drifts to the sky. “I know.”
I shift my attention to the grill. Cheese bubbles from inside a patty. “What kind of burgers are those?”
“Juicy Lucys,” Eric says, proud.
“What’s a Juicy Lucy?”
Olivia gasps. “You don’t know what a Juicy Lucy is?”
Eric clutches his chest. “And you call yourself a Minnesotan. Julie, did you teach this woman anything?”
The twins run up beside me, and Penelope explains, “It’s a burger with the cheese inside.”
Eric presses down on a patty, and gooey cheese bubbles to the top. “Molten cheddar lava. It’s a Minnesota staple.”
I smile despite myself. “You had me at cheese lava.”
He plates the burgers, and my stomach grumbles. I realize I haven’t eaten since this morning’s croissants.
“Ladies, to the table,” Eric says. “Fixings incoming.”
My mom rises. “Can I help, dear?”
“Nope. Just relax. Chef Eric has it covered.”
We gather around the massive oak table. The air smells of smoke and char and summer.
“Speaking of work,” I say, “how was the Business Roundtable?”
Mom sighs. “Unremarkable. A bunch of executives congratulating themselves.”
“What else is new?” Olivia and I say simultaneously with a laugh.
“Well,” she says, eyes twinkling, “it wasn’t entirely a waste of time.”
I squint. “Wait. You didn’t talk to Bob Bernfeld, did you?”
“I did.”
“Mom, I told you not to.”
“I know. But what they’ve done to you is unfair. I won’t stand by.”
I tug the napkin onto my lap. Vivek’s face flashes before me. “What did you say?”
“I explained your situation and asked him to help get you reinstated.”
“And?”
“He said he’d prioritize it.”
I knock back the rest of my drink. The vodka hums behind my eyes.
Olivia leans over and whispers. “She’s just trying to help.”
She’s right. If you’re the CEO of a major client and you ask The Firm to reinstate someone, they do it.
I manage a smile. “You’re still in trouble, but…thank you.”
Mom bows her head slightly. “You’re welcome.”
Eric returns with curly fries and toppings. “Dinnertime.”
The twins squeal and chant, “Curly fries! Curly fries!”
Eric gives in to the terrorists and serves the girls first, then us. They dive in, mouths smeared with ketchup and cheese. He takes a sip of his bootleg and leans back.
“Damn, that’s good,” he says.
Penelope gasps. “Daddy! You said a bad word!”
“Oops. I meant ‘darn,’” he says, winking at me. “All right, dig in. Tell me what you think.”
I take a bite and nearly moan. The beef, the lava cheese, the seasoning. It’s perfect.
“Eric, this is unreal.”
“Best cheeseburger I’ve ever had,” Mom agrees.
Olivia smirks. “It’s…okay.”
Eric beams like a kid who aced his science fair. “Thanks. A friend of mine at Matt’s Grill taught me the recipe. Unfortunately, Laelynn’s off red meat these days, so I don’t make them often.”
Just the mention of her name cools the air.
“You can make these daily, as far as I’m concerned,” I say.
He cuts another burger and hands me half. “Don’t tempt me.”
For ten blissful minutes, we eat in near silence. Eric devours his meal like a man who’s been fasting. When he finishes, he leans back and rubs his belly, satisfied.
“Charlotte,” he says, “how was your walk? Find anything for the collection?”
The peace fractures.
“It was good,” I say, voice rising.
Eric raises an eyebrow. “That didn’t sound good.”
Olivia looks up. “Yeah. What happened?”
I hesitate, then lean forward. “I found another note. On a neighbor’s house.”
Eric blinks and rubs the scar on his chin with his index finger. “Huh.”
Not quite the reaction I expected.
“Someone’s leaving them around the island,” I continue. “Trying to scare people.”
“Must be Russ,” he mutters.
My mother gasps. “This is getting out of hand. Why don’t you all come back to Wayzata with me tonight? Stay at my hotel.”
Eric chuckles and places a hand on her shoulder. “Appreciate it, Julie, but it’s just a prank.”
“It’s not funny,” she snaps. “At least call the police.”
“Laelynn reported it on her way out of town. They haven’t followed up yet.”
“Then call yourself.”
Eric stiffens, then nods. “All right. First thing tomorrow.”
My mom raises a glass. “Good man.” We lift our glasses in agreement. I force a smile, but Eric watches me carefully.
“Is there more?” he asks.
I hesitate. Then: “I saw Vivek. On the trail.”
Olivia nearly chokes. “Shut the f—front door.”
“Who’s Vivek?” asks Eric.
Mom answers coldly. “A lech from work.”
“Everyone relax,” I say. “This is why I didn’t want to bring it up. It’s under control.”
I flash back to the branch in my hands. The blood. The unwelcome rush.
Mom leans forward. “This is outrageous. He’s stalking you. I’ve had enough. Tomorrow night, I’ll talk to him myself.”
“Mom, please. I think I’ve been nepo-babied enough for one week.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you.”
I groan. “We’re way past that.”
Eric chimes in gently. “Julie, have you considered just letting the process play out?”
She straightens in her chair, chest puffing. “Eric, I didn’t get where I am by”—she makes air quotes—“letting the process play out. Tomorrow after the conference, I’ll speak to Vivek. And his wife.”
I peer into my mother’s eyes, alight with fire. I’ve seen this look before, during my father’s darkest days.
One thing I know.
It doesn’t end well.