Thirty-nine
Sadie
M ost of the crowd has trickled away, their laughter and stories fading like the last notes of a favorite song. What started as a gut-wrenching day somehow became something beautiful. Rosie would’ve liked that, and in the end, I did too.
I’ve talked to just about everyone. Shared memories. Thanked them for coming. Smiled until my cheeks ached. Cried more than I wanted to. But now it’s quieting down.
Tom and I stand near the front of the diner, saying goodbye to the last few guests.
His hand rests on my shoulder as we exchange soft words with an older couple from down the street.
His smile is tired but proud. “She would’ve loved this,” he murmurs again.
I nod. We’ve said it at least a dozen times, but it’s still true .
I turn to survey the scene, and I feel her presence before I see her.
Julia Tremblay.
She’s cutting across the parking lot with heels that click against the pavement like a countdown. “Sadie,” she says smoothly, stopping in front of me. Her glossy lips twist into a polite smile. “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry you didn’t make it to our happy hour date.”
She says it like we’re old friends and like this isn’t someone’s memorial.
“I had a last-minute emergency,” I say, my voice saccharine. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get there.” Lies, lies, lies.
“Life happens.” Her eyes narrow, just slightly. “Alex and Simon…they need what you took.”
My spine straightens, but I smile like she’s just told a funny story. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She steps closer, and her tone shifts—lower, sharper. “Come on, Sadie. You’re not fooling anyone. Paradise is a small town. You don’t want Alex and Simon as enemies.”
My heart pounds, but I don’t flinch. I’ve had enough today. I tilt my head, cool and calm. “All I took were the things I brought with me when I moved in. Nothing more.”
Her smile tightens. “Sure.” She leans in, her breath brushing my cheek. “Just remember who you’re dealing with.”
Before I can respond, Beckett’s arm slides around my waist. His presence is like armor—warm and solid.
“Julia.” He greets her with an easy smile. “I didn’t know you were close to Rosie.”
“Oh, we weren’t exactly close,” she says with a dazzling grin, flipping the switch like only someone practiced in manipulation can. “But she was such a bright light. Always smiling. It’s such a loss.”
Beckett nods. “She was a wonderful patient and a good friend. We’re going to miss her.”
“I imagine the whole town will,” Julia replies.
“How’s business these days?” Beckett asks .
“Well, business is always shifting here, retirees coming and going. Keeps the real estate market active.”
Beckett chuckles politely. “No kidding.”
“Oh, I see someone I should talk to before they leave.” With a little wave, Julia strolls off like she didn’t just threaten me.
Beckett watches her go, then turns to me, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”
I give him a nod. But inside, I’m rattled.
Julia being here means Alex and Simon are still watching, still wanting that flash drive from me.
Right now, that’s the least of my worries. I’m emotionally spent, my body aching from the physical toll of my grief. Beckett walks me to his car, opens the passenger door for me, and then slides behind the wheel. For a moment, we sit in silence. Just breathing.
“Where to?” he asks quietly, glancing over at me.
“I need to go to Ginny’s.”
He nods and starts the car. As he pulls out of the lot, he reaches across the console and takes my hand. The warmth of his fingers against mine eases the unrest still churning inside me.
As we get closer, I stare out the window at the vineyards and trees, gathering my courage.
I know I need to tell him. I’ve known since I figured out what Alex and Simon were looking for.
But the words don’t come. I need to tell Beckett because hopefully he can help.
But if he doesn’t believe me, the police won’t either.
It isn’t until we’re driving through the gates of Black Bear Vineyard that I finally speak.
“I found something,” I say, barely above a whisper.
He glances at me. “Yeah?”
I nod. “When I left Alex, I scooped up my stuff so fast I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed a pair of his jeans. At your place I tossed them aside and didn’t think about them.”
Beckett reaches for me. “Is that what he’s so anxious about? A pair of jeans? Are they some designer or something?”
I look out the window as we cross the bridge, watching the lake below. “When I got to Ginny’s, I realized there was someth ing in the pocket.”
Beckett turns and makes his way toward the cottage. “What was it? Drugs?”
“No. A flash drive.”
We pull into Ginny’s gravel driveway, and as he parks, I reach into my bag and pull the drive from its hiding place.
Beckett eyes it warily. “What does it have on it? Blackmail pictures?”
Before I can answer, Evelyn Dempsey, Ginny’s grandmother, stops her big Mercedes at the end of the driveway. Even from this distance, I can tell she’s not happy we’re here. If she had lasers in her eyes, we’d be dead right now.
After a moment, we watch Evelyn drive on and climb the hill to the main house.
“I’m afraid to leave my car here,” Beckett says, half-joking.
I crack a smile. “She’s the only Dempsey you should be afraid of. She’s terrifying.”
He chuckles. “So true. It’s rumored that her husband didn’t actually leave her. He’s buried by the house.”
I shake my head as we go inside the cottage. Then I plop on the couch, plug the flash drive into my laptop, and pull up the files. Beckett leans over my shoulder as lines of spreadsheets and coded names fill the screen.
He frowns. “What am I looking at?”
“Sports betting,” I explain. “But not just game results or casual bets. It’s names, amounts, payouts, debt-collection schedules. This isn’t someone’s hobby. This is a business.”
He straightens, his expression darkening. “Why would Alex have this?”
“I think he and Simon are either running a gambling ring…or working for someone who is.”
Beckett runs a hand over his face. “Jesus.”
“I didn’t know I had it. I swear,” I whisper, unease creeping in. “I found it when I was doing laundry a few days ago.”
Beckett nods, pulls out his phone, and finds a contact. “I’m callin g Derrick Bond. He’s a good lawyer. Smart. Grew up here. He’ll handle it.” He holds his phone to his ear. “Derek, it’s Beckett Paradise. Can you meet me at the Black Bear Vineyard cottage?”
I stare at him, and the corners of his mouth turn up.
“No. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Dempseys,” he says. “But I need your help. Maybe instead we meet at my house?” After a pause, he adds, “Okay, thanks.”
He ends the call and turns to me. His voice is firm, calm, and terrifyingly clear. “You need to pack your stuff.”
“What?” I blink.
“You can’t stay here, Sadie. People are following you. Alex and Simon could know you’re here, which means Ginny’s not safe either. You’re coming back to my house.”
Fear slices through me. “If I go to the police, they’ll know I lied before. I said I didn’t know anything. I mean, I didn’t know this then, but what if they think I was protecting the Tremblays?”
“They won’t,” he says, gripping my shoulders gently. “Because you weren’t. Derrick’s going to help us.”
I nod, heart pounding. This is real now. No more denial. No more avoiding it. But Beckett believes me, and that gives me courage.
As we gather my things, I text Ginny.
Me: Hey. I’m going to stay at Beckett’s for a while. Can you go stay with your brother? Please? Will explain later, but it’s safer.
Ten minutes later, we’re on the road again, my suitcase in the backseat and Beckett’s hand in mine. I don’t know what’s coming next—but I know I trust him. And he trusts me.
When we get to his place, Beckett sets my suitcase in the living room. He doesn’t move right away, just stands there with his back to me, hands on his hips like he’s bracing himself. Then he turns. “I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
I shift my weight, unsure where this is going. “What mistake? ”
“Rushing,” he says. “Pushing when I should’ve slowed down. I know things between us moved fast, and I... I didn’t give you space to catch your breath.”
I fold my arms, but it’s not defense. It’s to hold myself together, because my heart pulls in too many directions at once. “You didn’t push me,” I tell him.
He gives me a look, sad and a little stubborn. “Maybe not on purpose. But I should’ve paid more attention. To how you were feeling. To what you needed.”
He takes a step closer. Then another. Not reaching for me. Just closing the space. “I’m not going to rush anything this time. We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. Or tomorrow. And we definitely don’t have to go there again until you want to.”
“I do want to,” I say. “Eventually.”
His eyes meet mine, steady, warm. “Then I’ll wait,” he says. “As long as it takes.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods but doesn’t touch me. Not really. Just lets his pinky brush against mine. “Promise you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he says.
I nod, my fingers curling around his. “I will.”
“In the meantime, I still want you close,” he says. “I need to be near you.”
When I nod, Beckett carries my suitcase straight to his bedroom.
I set my laptop on the kitchen island and boot it up, fingers trembling slightly as the screen brightens. The flash drive is already plugged in when the doorbell rings.
Derrick Bond walks in wearing jeans, a navy button-down, and the tired look of someone who’s been cleaning up other people’s messes since high school.
He greets Beckett with a quick handshake, then turns to me.
“Sadie, good to see you. I’m sorry about Rosie.
We stopped by the diner, and that was exactly what she would have wanted. ”
I blush. “Thank you.”
“So what did you and the Dempseys get into this time? ”