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The cop’s name was Sean Slagle. He was broad-shouldered and dirty blond with a thick mustache above his upper lip and a way of looking Rose directly in the eye when he spoke to her.
“You’re the woman who just bought the old Grayson Estate,” he said, tapping his pen against his notepad. He said it as though he’d just solved a major riddle.
Rose nodded and searched his face for some clue of who he was or where she’d seen his face before.Sean Slagle.It rang a bell, yet she didn’t know why.
Sean shook her hand before they left. “We’ll keep you in the loop on the investigation.”
“Call me at any time,” she said.
“Will do.”
Ada had salvaged dinner and ordered everyone to sit at the back table to enjoy the fruits of Rose’s labor.
“Y’all should really go home,” Rose said, dipping into her Southern accent, which happened when she was upset. She sniffled. “I’m not much for company right now.”
“Don’t kick us out,” Hilary insisted. “We want to be here for you. We want to help you.”
Rose dragged herself to the outdoor table and watched as her Salt Sisters doted on her, refilling her wine and giving her overwhelming portions of food. Her friends looked at her nervously but tried to keep their tones bright.
“Tell us more about the Grayson Estate!” Nora begged, her fork filled with greasy bacon and brussels sprouts.
“Who did you buy it from, anyway?” Ada asked.
Rose sniffed, telling them the name the real estate agent had given her—Howard Reynolds. It wasn’t a name she knew.
“How did this Howard Reynolds come to own the old Grayson Estate?” Hilary asked.
Rose shook her head.
“He must have bought it. From…?” Robby paused and pressed her lips together.
Rose’s heart seized. It wasn’t like the name wasoff-limits. It wasn’t like she would fly off the handle the second she heard it.
“He must have bought it from Oren,” Rose finished. She chewed a bite of cheese, watching the waves roll against the dock.
“But when would that have happened?” Hilary asked. She looked incredulous, trying to fit together the pieces from Rose’s past as though she were a female Sherlock.
“Well, it’s been thirty-one years since the fire,” Rose said with a shrug. “Sometime between then and now.”
“Maybe he wanted to fix it up but decided it was too big of a job,” Katrina offered. “Have you looked him up on the internet?”
Rose shook her head and flinched.What does this have to do with my stolen sculpture?She wanted to mope in her bedroom alone.
Katrina pulled out her phone and typed out Howard Reynolds, then furrowed her brow.
“It looks like he’s a businessman,” Katrina said. “Manhattan.”
“What kind of business?” Hilary asked.
Rose flared her nostrils.
“Looks like importing and exporting,” Katrina said.
“Should we contact him?” Ada suggested. “See why he sold in the first place?”
“The important thing is that it’s mine now,” Rose said softly. She felt dreamy and sad, and she longed to return to the Grayson Estate and wander through the hallways and think, think, think. For so many months, she’d been dreaming up the very sculpture that had been ripped unceremoniously from her home.So much wasted time. A piece of my soul was gone.
Rose pushed herself through the rest of dinner andtook a stack of plates to the kitchen. She slid them into the dishwasher, trying to eavesdrop on the Salt Sisters out on the veranda. It was clear they were talking about her. Did they think she’d lost her mind for buying the Grayson Estate?
