Chapter 50 Tables Turned
TABLES TURNED
RIPLEY
Haven seems distracted. But she’s leaving tomorrow, and she’s meeting William back at her room later, so I don’t make a big deal out of her occasionally shifting her gaze around the farm.
As Chris and Vega chat in the kitchen, Haven and I amble past the Hidcote, me carrying the picnic basket and her carting a blanket. The fairy lights welcome us at the entrance to the maze, and we go inside.
“Can you imagine what it’ll be like with school kids here? Trying to find their way out? Laughing, having a blast when they reach dead ends?”
“Like we did when we first explored it.”
“So many years ago.” We were the original lavender maze wanderers.
We’ve known its paths for decades, so we head to our favorite spot.
Once we settle on the picnic blanket and spread out the food, I’ll ask what she thinks about me talking to Banks and whether maybe I should return with her tonight to her hotel and find him there.
But before we can turn the corner, a voice calls out.
“Haven! Got a second?”
It’s Chris, and when we turn around, he’s jogging into the maze to meet up with us, that warm smile matching his equally warm voice. When he reaches us, he first turns to me. “Thank you again for all your hospitality. I couldn’t have done this without you. It was as profound as I’d expected.”
“My pleasure,” I say.
Then he focuses his attention squarely on Haven. “I was just talking to Vega, as you know, about some of her future projects,” he says. “And I told her I’d love it if she could keep me in mind for the TV show she might be doing with you.”
Haven’s smile is slow and surprised. “Of course. I’d love to work with you again.”
“It would be an honor. Truly.” He shifts again toward me. “Permission to hug?”
“Absolutely,” I say. As he brings me in for a hug, a twig snaps beneath his foot, breaking the silence of the otherwise still night.
He asks the same of Haven, they exchange a hug, and then Chris takes off. As we head deeper into the maze toward our favorite picnic spot, I whisper, “Did he just ask to be on a project with you?”—even though, of course, that’s what he did.
“Yes,” she says, then holds out her arm, the hair on it standing on end. “Pinch me.”
“How the tables have turned,” I say.
A twig snaps again.
That’s when it hits me. That first twig wasn’t under Chris’s foot. It was a few rows of lavender hedge away.
A feeling of unease creeps up my spine. “Haven, we should go,” I say.
I reach into my pocket for mace but come up empty. Right. I’m at home, on the farm, where I’m safe.
Except, I don’t feel safe.
Time to turn around. But when I do, I walk right into a slab of a man instead. He’s holding a camera. His hair is blond and slicked back, and he looks terribly familiar.
He’s the guy who hit on me the night I met Banks. And in a heartbeat, he grabs me and yanks me into a chokehold.