Chapter 13
Holly fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, but I lay there, replaying the events of the evening.
I felt terrible for Jasmine. It was such a horrible thing to accuse someone of being: a gold-digger.
I would be horrified if any of the Grants thought I was only interested in Holly because she came from a rich family.
Had Jasmine known Charles was rich when they met?
I didn’t think he was famous in America, so she wouldn’t have recognized him.
On top of that, though he was well off, undoubtedly a millionaire several times over, I expected far wealthier people passed through the hotel in Miami Beach where Jasmine worked.
Besides, he had been the one to make the first move, after spotting a woman who looked like his dead wife. It wasn’t like she’d sought out the widower of someone who had looked like her.
What were the odds, I wondered. I know it’s an accepted ‘fact’ that everyone has a doppelg?nger out there somewhere, but to bump into someone who looks exactly like your deceased wife? It had to be as unlikely as winning the lottery.
My brain was performing loops now, and I knew there was no way I was going to get to sleep without breaking the pattern.
Being careful not to wake Holly, I got out of bed and put on the robe that hung on the back of the door. I went to the toilet and then, thirsty, decided I needed a drink. There were no glasses in the bathroom or our bedroom; I would have to go down to the kitchen.
The house was silent and still. I tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The light above the oven had been left on, casting the room in a soft yellow glow.
Dirty glasses were piled high on the draining board and bowls of snacks were scattered across the counter.
There was a half-full tumbler of whisky on the breakfast table, like someone had sat there to enjoy a glass after the rest of us had gone to bed.
There was a closed laptop beside it with a Gravitas sticker in the corner of the lid. Zack’s, presumably.
I found a clean glass and filled it with water and was about to go back to bed when I heard a voice.
It made me jump and turn around, but there was no one there. The voice was very faint and I wasn’t sure if someone had the TV on in the living room or was listening to the radio.
I crept into the living room to investigate – and saw movement on the other side of the French doors. There was someone standing out on the patio. I couldn’t see who it was; all I could see, apart from a vague silhouette, was the glow of a phone screen.
But from here, I could hear their voice more clearly.
‘… no, don’t worry, it’s all going to work, I promise.’
A pause.
‘Yeah, I’ll suggest it tomorrow.’ Another pause. ‘He’ll be back by the evening.’
It was unmistakably Lewis. He had his back to me and obviously wasn’t aware I was there. He was also talking loudly enough for me to hear his words clearly through the single-glazed doors. Lewis had struck me as a person who half-shouts when they think they’re whispering, and here was the proof.
‘So you know what you need to do, right? You’re clear on the plan?’
A moment of silence while the person on the other end of the phone spoke.
‘Good. What? No, of course I’m not going to back out.’ He laughed. ‘I’m a good actor, aren’t I?’
He hung up, and I immediately hurried out of the living room.
What the hell was he up to?
I went up the stairs as quickly as I could, and as I reached the landing the bathroom door opened.
Miranda emerged, startled to see me. She had her phone in her hand and her eyes were wide, alarmed.
‘I was just going to get a glass of water,’ I said in a whisper and, without a word, she nodded and, head down, scurried past me, back to her and Zack’s bedroom.