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Know your enemy.
Opening my notebook to the first page, I jotted down the following:
Father’s Full Name
Mother’s Name
Name of Boarding School and Contact Info
Double-Check Social Media
Investigate TB’s Personal Possessions
Locate TB’s Passport. Student Visa. Driver’s License?
Locate TB’s British Airways Roundtrip Ticket/Boarding Pass
Access TB’s Cell Phone
Access TB’s Computer
The last two items were going to be the hardest because they were probably password-protected. Maybe Will could help me. He was a tech whiz and could likely hack into anyone’s accounts.
I thought about sneaking into her room, but didn’t think there’d be enough time. And I sure as hell didn’t want her to catch me snooping around. I’d have to figure out a way to get her out of the house for a few hours. And maybe I’d have Will join me as my partner in crime.
With that in mind, I embarked on my investigation and googled Blackstone English Diplomat. There were a lot of entries for some private equity company (whatever that was) called Blackstone, but nothing fitting my description. After scrolling for a minute, a possibility came up: Sir Warren Blackstone. Excitedly, I clicked on it. I read the brief description of his diplomatic career. Most significantly, he was dead. He had died in a private plane crash five years ago. It did not list any next of kin or survivors. Weird.
I heard my dad’s car pull into the driveway and glanced at the time. Like clockwork, he was home at six o’clock. He’d wash up and unwind with a Scotch for a half hour and then, at six thirty sharp, we’d all sit down for dinner.
I had a little time to do more research. I decided to double-check Tanya’s social media presence. Once again, nothing on Facebook, Snapchat, or TikTok, but to my surprise, she now had an Instagram account. Her handle: @TanyaBDreamer. She’d posted a dozen photos of my sister’s room with the hashtags #thinkpink, #homesweethome, and #princessliveshere…numerous selfies posing in her new outfits with the hashtags #supermodel, #urbangirl, and #LAgirl…several with my mother on their shopping outing with the hashtags #shopaholics, #fashionistas, and #likemotheranddaughter…and finally one last photo…of Lance with the hashtags #hottie, #boyfriendmaterial, and #ColdwaterAcademy, which would likely draw the attention of every student. Classmates were already posting obnoxious comments like Go for him! You’d look hot together! Take down his rude prude! And God knows what they would say to my face tomorrow. The audacity of her! And to top things off, Lance was following her! Yet another one of her fast-growing army of hundreds.
“Dinner’s ready!” I heard my mother call out.
So furious, I had no appetite.
On top of that, my mind was spinning with the question: Why hadn’t Tanya ever posted on Instagram before today?
EIGHT
NATALIE
I was looking forward to another family dinner.
Tonight I’d made herb-crusted salmon, following a simple recipe from my favorite cookbook, The Barefoot Contessa. I’d also made a lovely lemon-vinaigrette salad with hearts of palm, strawberries, and bib lettuce, as well as a big batch of pasta with fresh chopped tomatoes, basil, and olive oil. I was being mindful of Paige’s new diet—had even bought a few vegan cookbooks online—and although she’d likely pooh-pooh the salmon (thank God it wasn’t a whole fish that had eyes), she could indulge in the salad and pasta. It had been so much fun to have Tanya in the kitchen as my helper, and she had a knack for making everything we plated look so pretty. Like both my daughters and myself, she had an artistic flair.
Matt, for the first time in ages, complimented my meal and I told him Tanya had helped me prepare it, omitting the fact we’d downed an entire bottle of sauvignon blanc in the process. With a nod of approval, Matt asked our family guest about her first day at Coldwater. She animatedly told him all about it, not leaving out a detail. He was pleased it had gone well. When he asked Paige and Will about their day, they replied in unison with three monotone words. “It was okay.”
Paige’s head stayed bowed as she picked at her salad and twirled her pasta with her fork.
“Paige, is everything okay?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t think you’re eating enough.”
“She’s missing out,” piped in Tanya, helping herself to seconds. “Can someone please pass me the pasta?”
Matt obliged and commented on how cute Tanya’s outfit was. Paige crinkled her nose while our exchange student beamed, her eyes twinkling.
