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I zone out again as they continue with their catching up, and I think back through my research. I don’t recall reading about cousins in Daytona, then again, it’s not relevant to the story. I know Magnolia has two sisters, and Harris has an older brother, who owns Jake’s team, and two younger brothers. An all-boy family. The cousins could be from either side. Though the way Magnolia talks about them, I’m sure they’re her nieces or nephews.
By the time dessert rolls around, I’m already stuffed, and Magnolia and Jake’s conversation has mostly waned. Part of me wants to be offended that she didn’t ask me any questions. That she doesn’t seem interested in getting to know me, his fake girlfriend, at all, but then I get ahold of myself and remember it’s for the best. And that I really shouldn’t care. Jake at least made a point throughout to look in my direction and smile. He didn’t want me to feel forgotten. Which only helps solidify my supposition that he’s less narcissistic than some. Namely the ones under this roof…
“It’s lovely having you for dinner,” Magnolia says to Jake, standing, and kisses the top of his head.
It was only lovely because her daughter isn’t here.
She acknowledges me. “Would you two want to join me in the study for another drink?”
“I would, mother, but I need to make a call.”
My stomach clenches. Please don’t insist it just be the two of us.
Magnolia intercepts before it can be offered. “Very well then.” She nods her goodbyes, grabs her wine glass, and glides in her elegant way to the next room.
When she’s out of sight, I relax a little.
Jake kisses my temple and stands. “I won’t be long. Feel free to do whatever.” And then he leaves me and the butlers who’re scurrying around to cleanup.
The sunset is toobeautiful to be lurking around inside while I wait for Jake, so I head to the front porch and plant myself on the top stair. Think over my plan for tonight when everyone’s asleep. First, I have to find those damn keys in the office. Second, sneak down to the surgical dungeon and search the files.
My stomach jumps at the possibilities inside those cold metal drawers. And as my mind drifts and winds through all likely scenarios, a noise behind me makes me jump—a groan. A familiar groan.
Harris.
I pivot to see his wheelchair situated between two rocking chairs. A blanket covers his frail little lap.
I scan around us. We’re alone.
I smile as if maybe he can still process my expression. You never know. Somewhere beneath his stroke-scrambled brainwaves and the drugs Ruby has him on, he could be vaguely aware of where he is and what’s going on. “Hey there, Mr. Mitchell,” I say.
Another grunt, but his eyes don’t travel down to where I am.
I then stand and make my way to him. Settle into the rocking chair beside him. It creaks gently beneath my weight. “Beautiful sunset, huh?”
I push to rock. Back and forth, back and forth. Press my eyelids shut and inhale the cooling February air.
I tap my fingernails against the woodgrain of the armrest in quick succession as I think over my plan again. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
Keys.
Tap, tap, tap.
Files.
Tap, tap, tap.
Then what?
Tap, tap, tap.
Cold flesh covers my right hand, and I go still. My eyes fling open and fasten to Harris. His hazy dark irises latch onto mine for a moment, then drift off. Fasten again. His hand falls limply off mine, like he doesn’t have the strength to hold it up for long.
He’s…trying to get my attention. “Yes?” I say breathlessly. Stupidly. I know he probably can’t answer. But what I don’t know is why my heart is pounding. Why is it pounding? Or maybe I do. This feels a little like being accosted by a ghost.
I look around us to see we’re still alone and lower my voice. “Do you need something, Mr. Mitchell?”
Saying his name brings him back to me, and he looks at me again. A glint of coherence flashes behind his irises. My heart jumps. I try my best to smile and seem relaxed.
