Chapter 27
SASHA
I hit the brakes, and Griff’s truck rumbles to a stop outside Bijou. Pulling down the visor, I check my makeup in the mirror. Not bad for five hours of sleep and considerable exertion last night.
My stomach does a little dance as I step out of the truck—followed by a twinge of pain from my nether regions. The second time Griffin and I did it last night, I teased him about not having the stamina to go hard.
“I’m just trying to make sure you can walk tomorrow, Angel,” he rasped in my ear.
I tighten my purse against me, forcing myself to get thoughts of Griffin out of my head.
This is not where my mind needs to be right now.
I’m here because if I’m going to be living in Quince Valley for the next few months, I don’t want to be solely reliant on Griffin for entertainment or be a freeloader.
Most of all, I don’t want to sit at home wondering if, despite the safety Griffin’s business is affording us, Creelman might know where I am.
I refuse to live scared. I’m getting on with my life.
And that means moving ahead with the three-step plan I devised yesterday at Griffin’s dad’s place.
The doorbell dings as I step inside, inhaling the familiar scent of high-end clothes and the small selection of perfumes at the counter.
“Hello.” A woman who’s not Vivian Lau calls to me from over at the winter coats, which look to have newly arrived.
She’s taller than me by a couple of inches, and she’s my age or maybe a few years older. She’s very pretty, in a girl-next-door way, with her below-shoulder-length dark hair and pink cheeks. A smattering of freckles across her nose.
She reminds me a little of my older sister.
My heart tightens at that. Except for a few texts, I haven’t spoken to Leila since she visited me in London with our parents last year. It was the last time we all pretended to be a family, even though both my brothers were back stateside, dealing with yet another mess Sam was in.
I shove thoughts about my family aside—it’s easier than getting Griffin out of my head.
Then I notice that the woman has a pen tucked behind her ear and a stack of tags in one hand. She works here.
“Oh, hi,” I say. I hope the disappointment doesn’t show on my face. Looks like Vivian found the help she was looking for.
It’s fine. There are a hundred other places I could work around here. Okay, maybe a dozen, and none where I know the ins and outs of the business like this one.
The woman smiles warmly. She looks so nice, and it’s not her fault Vivian didn’t wait for me. It’s entirely mine. “Is there anything I can help you look for?” she asks.
“I’m just looking,” I say. “But thank you.”
“No problem.” She hesitates. Then she says, “It’s my second day on the job, if I’m being honest, so I might not be able to answer all your questions, but Vivian—”
“Ms. Kelly, is it now?” Vivian’s voice cuts across the room like a high note on a violin. An electric violin, if there is such a thing. I didn’t see her back there.
“Wow. News travels fast,” I say. I’m not doing any legal name-changing, but that’s what I’m going by for as long as we’re fake-married. As strange as it feels, it’s nice not to have to pretend I don’t have a last name.
“Your sister-in-law was in here yesterday,” Vivian says by way of explanation. “She chose an absolutely gauche blouse for your ceremony.”
A phone rings shrilly then, and Vivian huffs, turning to grab it.
“I’m sorry.” The woman’s eyes are wide when I look back at her. “I thought the blouse was lovely.”
“It was,” I laugh. “And Vivian didn’t hate it enough to not carry it in the store.”
The woman laughs, too. “Good point. And congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I smile, feeling a warmth I shouldn’t spread over me. I try to douse it with the constant it-isn’t-real mantra. “Don’t worry about Vivian, by the way,” I say. “I’ve been told she’s like this with everyone.”
“I’m beginning to see that. By the end of the day yesterday, I honestly had no idea why she hired me. I was stunned when she told me to come back today.”
I smile. “I’m sure you’re doing great.”
I suddenly realize how desperate I am to make new friends. Nora’s not due back from London until Christmas, and I would love to talk to someone not related to my fake husband—not that I don’t love Griffin’s sisters.
I thrust out my hand. “Sasha…Kelly.”
“Gloria. I go by Glo, though.”
We shake warmly.
Then Vivian’s voice cuts across the room. “I told you; you don’t like the brown one,” she snaps at the phone. “It makes your neck itch, remember? Put on the yellow one. You’ll feel better.”
Glo and I exchange a glance.
“Who is that?” I ask. I can’t picture Vivian with family members, and I didn’t notice a ring on her finger.
“I have no idea.”
“Ms. Kelly,” Vivian barks. “Come here, please.”
I stand up straight like I’ve been caught passing notes at school. I raise my eyebrows at Glo but head to the front of the store.
Vivian’s still holding the phone. The screen says LAU2.
I don’t notice her glaring at me until she clears her throat.
“Oh, uh, don’t you want to hang that up?”
“She’s fine.” She leans in, peering over my shoulder. “Did you come here to shop or about the job?”
“Oh, well, I actually came here about the job, but it looks like you’ve hired someone wonderful. I—”
“She’s terrible. I’ll fire her today if you’d like to start now.”
I gape. “What?” I look over my shoulder, but Glo’s gone to the far side of the store, picking up what she was doing when I came in. I don’t think she can hear us from here. “Why is she terrible?”
Vivian waves a hand vaguely. “I don’t know. Nothing specific.”
I frown. “There’s nothing wrong with her, is there?”
Vivian narrows her eyes. “Do you want the job or not?”
“Not if it means firing her. Is she full time?”
“No.”
“Because I’d only be looking for part time. Maybe we could both help you out.”
Vivian’s nostrils flare. She picks up the phone again, turning around and murmuring something I can’t hear. It sounds suspiciously like she’s consulting with the person on the other end of the line.
After a long pause, she turns around again. “Fine. I’ll take you both if you promise to imbue some style into her.”
“Vivian.” I fold my arms. She knows I don’t need the job, and I know I’ve got the upper hand here. “I’ll join you if you promise to give Glo a chance. Do not just let her go because of ‘vibes.’”
Vivian taps a finger on the glass-top counter. “Fine.”
“And be nice to her.”
“Do you want this job or not?”
I raise an eyebrow.
She grits her perfect little white teeth. “I’ll be civil.”
I smile. “Okay, then. I can start tomorrow.”
Vivian pinches her lips together. I know this look. It’s the same one Griff gives when he’s trying not to smile, except he doesn’t purse his lips so much as frown heavily.
“Nine a.m. sharp,” Vivian says. “Wait. Show me.”
It takes me a minute to understand. She wants to see my wedding ring.
I hold it out for her, waiting for a word of criticism.
It’s funny, Chester did the same thing this morning, though when I asked him if he was a fan of jewelry or something, he just shook his head, quiet.
“It’s very nice,” he said before moving on to talk about his hens.
Now, Vivian says the same thing. Or half of it. “It’s nice.” Then she turns away, picking up the phone again.
I can’t believe it—a compliment from the ice queen. I head straight for Glo, buzzing with excitement now. “So, are you here tomorrow?”
She nods, smiling. “Yes.”
“Looks like we’ll be working together—if that’s okay with you.”
Her whole face brightens. “Are you kidding? Maybe I’ll stay after all.”
I leave the store practically skipping.
I send a quick text to Griffin to let him know I’m officially starting work tomorrow, then see I’ve missed a text from Nora, begging to hear how everything went last night.
I owe her more info, but I’ve hesitated to call her because we’ve always told each other everything. I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep this big secret from her.
I swallow down the strange feeling of pain that comes on the heels of my ridiculous happiness about being with Griffin and slide back into the truck without turning it on.
Nora answers on the second ring. “Oh my God, it’s Mrs. Kelly!”
For a moment I panic and almost slip, but we immediately launch into a long back and forth about everything. Nora grills me about everything from the day with his sisters to the sex.
At least so far I can answer her completely honestly. “Nora, it’s hands-down the best I’ve ever had.”
“There must be something in the genes of these boys,” Nora says, sighing.
But after we get all the updates out of the way, I lean back in the seat of the truck, feeling melancholy.
“I miss you, Nor. It’s weird being in your hometown without you.”
“I know. Not too long now, though. But hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Since you’re there, would you want to pick the Eleanor mystery back up?”
I perk up. “Really?”
Eleanor Cleary had been murdered in the Rolling Hills resort six decades before the Kelly family took it over.
She’d been married to an oil baron with a bad reputation and mistresses on the side.
Ironically, she was said to have been murdered by a jealous lover, and that she now haunted the Rolling Hills.
Whether or not Jude and Nora believed the ghost story part, they’d taken it upon themselves to get to the bottom of the story and had tracked Eleanor to Switzerland, where they’d discovered she and her lover—her husband’s chauffeur, James—had had a lovechild while on a trip there.
That was where the story had gone cold.
I just couldn’t believe James had murdered her.
Not when he was so hopelessly devoted to her.
It wasn’t the weird kind of obsession, either.
James was a prolific diarist, and Nora and Jude had found more than one of his journals.
It was hard to reconcile the way he loved her and cared for her with that of someone who’d murder her in cold blood once they got back home to Vermont.
“I thought you might be done with the story since your documentary.”
“I am. I may have archival and library research skills, but even I can’t trace people where there are no records. Or classified records, like at the orphanage in the states the convent sent its children to. But Sash, you’re married to a man with considerable data resources.”
“You’re a nerd.”
“True. But so is your husband. As well as being a big, sexy protector man.”
He is that. “I’d be happy to see what I can find. No promises, though.”
“No pressure, either. There might not be anything left to find. The convent that took Eleanor’s baby in Switzerland had hardly any useful records there, but I’ll send them anyway.”
I sign off, promising to be in touch if we find anything.
Then I immediately text Jude and Griffin with a shared calendar invite for the end of this week called ELEANOR: WE’RE ON, BABY.
I laugh as Jude immediately accepts.
Griffin sends me a private text.
GRIFFIN: I don’t even want to know.
SASHA: Aw, you miss me already?
Three dots pop up, then disappear. He’s just going to leave me on read?
Then the text pops up.
GRIFFIN: It’s unhealthy how much I can’t stop thinking about you.
My stomach flips. It’s a good thing he’s away for a few days and that I’ll only be working part time. Otherwise I think I’d be willing to throw all my steps out the window just to exist carnally with this man.
But he’s not, and I’ve still got step two to attend to. I pull onto the road, humming a song and laughing to myself like I’ve lost my mind thanks to the best sex of my life.
Maybe I have. But I’m good with it.