Chapter 25
Sarah
She saw Esmeralda before she’d even turned off the engine.
That alone was wrong. Esme didn’t do parking lots. She was not the kind of woman who stood in the sun waiting for people. Sarah pulled into her spot and got out. The look on Esmeralda’s face stopped her before she could say good morning.
“You need to see this.” Esme held out the newspaper.
Sarah took it.
The photograph was from Carlson Island, from the evening after they had reunited in the storage room. Her and Lizzie sitting side by side at a table, playing Jenga, close together, laughing at something. She looked happy in it. She looked like a woman who had stopped being careful for five minutes.
The headline above it read: Barnes Resort GM: Lies, Lesbian Lovers and an Abandoned Family.
“Don’t’ read it out here. Read it in your office.”
They went in through the side entrance, but it didn’t help.
The lobby already had that particular quality.
Conversations that paused a beat too long.
Heads that turned and then made a point of turning back.
Her desk phone was ringing. She could hear it from the corridor.
Her cell had gone off twice during the walk from the car.
She closed her office door, sat down, and read the article.
Her mother had spoken to them. She recognized it immediately.
The specific combination of self-pity and grievance that her mother had spent thirty years perfecting.
According to the piece, Sarah had abandoned her family the moment money appeared.
She’d watched them struggle while she lived in luxury and she had cut off all contact after Billy died and left them with nothing.
Billy came across as a knight in shining armor, Sarah as the heartless wench.
The reporter had printed it as though it were verified fact, annotated with phrases like sources close to the family and those who knew her in those years.
Then the car accident.
Sarah set the paper down. Picked it up again. Read the paragraph twice.
Thirteen years old, it said. Stole a neighbor’s car, lost control, damaged property, injured a man. Covered up by family connections. Juvenile record sealed.
“That’s not what happened,” she said.
Esme was standing by the window. “I know.”
“It was my mother, she crashed the car and blamed me.” Sarah heard her own voice, flat and very controlled.
The article laid it all out. Her true life before Billy had beautified it.
And then the marriage.
Sources close to the late Billy Barnes suggest the marriage was one of convenience rather than romance.
Mrs. Barnes is known to prefer the company of women, including several staff members at various properties over the years.
Most recently, she has been seen in compromising situations with intern Elizabeth Wakefield, age 22, currently working at the Carlson Seaside Resort.
Lizzie. They knew about Lizzie. She grabbed her phone to warn her but before she could pull up her contact, the cell rang. She looked at the screen: Peter Lassiter.
She let it ring out, then set the phone face-down on the desk.
Twenty seconds later her desk phone rang. Then her cell again.
“Sarah.” Esme’s voice was careful. “The board is going to want—”
“I know what the board wants. They’ve been waiting for something like this for years. Now they have a front page.”
The desk phone went quiet and then immediately started again.
She picked it up. “Yes.” She listened for thirty seconds. “Yes, I’ll be there at ten.” She hung up.
She stood and straightened her blazer. Picked up her phone. Left the newspaper on the desk.
The walk to the boardroom felt longer than usual and all she could think about was Lizzie. She needed to tell Lizzie what had happened. Guilt washed over her. She was meant to call her last night, but the wedding had gone on so long, she hadn’t wanted to call her at almost one in the morning.
Now she regretted it because it might have been their last chance at a normal conversation, before the madness set in.
She turned the corner toward the conference wing and saw Lizzie coming from the opposite direction. She looked like she’d been running. Her hair wasn’t quite right, and she had the newspaper folded under her arm.
“Sarah.” Lizzie’s voice was urgent. “We need to talk.”
“I can’t right now.”
“It’s about the article. The reporter—”
“Lizzie, I have a board meeting. Now.”
“I know but I need to tell you what happened.”
“After.” Sarah kept walking. “I’ll find you after. I can’t do this right now.” She didn’t mean for it to come out as sharp as it did. She saw Lizzie flinch. “I’m sorry. Just—wait for me. Please. We’ll talk after.”
She turned away before Lizzie could respond and walked into the boardroom.