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“The headstone says Nell Benson.”
“My great-aunt,” she murmured. She seemed agitated and flustered.
“Sawyer set it back in place,” I assured her. “It was probably just a prank.”
“Right,” she said, nodding. “Just a prank.”
I walked by her and left the post office, mulling the turn of events. It was clear the woman hadn’t known about the granite being moved.
So if the group she was with hadn’t upended the stone, who—or what—had?
August 7, Wednesday
“THANKS FOR sending the mail,” I said.
“No problem,” Frida said. “Did you open the pieces with Curtis’s name on them?”
“Yeah. One was a thank-you letter from on online gambling site for being such a loyal customer.”
“Gawd.”
“And the other was an invoice from a jewelry store.”
“A jewelry store?”
“For an engagement ring.”
“Ah. The ring you never got.”
I sighed. “Right.”
“How much of your money did he spend on it?”
“Nine thousand.”
“Big spender.”
“I looked up the model number on their website—it’s a gorgeous ring.”
“Wonder what the jerk did with it?”
I was quiet.
“Josie?”
“I might’ve… noticed… on Instagram that he’s… engaged.”
“To the overtanned influencer?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Girl, don’t tell me he gave her the ring he bought with your money.”
I closed my eyes. “Okay.”
“You can’t let him get away with this!”
“I just want it to end,” I murmured. “I don’t want to fuel anymore humiliating headlines.”
