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“Rose?” Hilary’s voice echoed through the ballroom.
Rose twisted around and watched as Hilary strode through the ballroom and sidled up beside her with her eyes on the ceiling. Rose took Hilary’s hand. For a moment, Rose imagined herself at thirty-two—broke and lost and nearly homeless. Hilary had said:Why don’t you move in with me?And now, their lives were entirely different, but they were still themselves. They were still the best of friends.
They would always be the Salt Sisters.
“It’s sensational,” Hilary said now. “I can’t believe I’ve driven past this place thousands of times and never knew what the inside looked like.”
Rose pointed toward the far edge of the ballroom and said, “I imagine a big table right there next to a table with the best view of the water. That’s where we’ll always sit. You and me and all the Salt Sisters.”
Hilary blinked rapidly. It looked like she was fighting tears. “You’ve had a difficult few weeks, haven’t you?”
Rose sniffed. “I just don’t know what to make of any of this.”
Rose briefly explained their trip to Manhattan. She talked about her strange “fantasy” that Natalie was still out there somewhere. “Maybe Oren forced her to go somewhere else? Perhaps he pushed her out?” she speculated. “Maybe he just wanted to create a sob story about his wife. About his past. Perhaps it was all a manipulation tactic to get someone like me under his control.”
Hilary cupped her elbows and raised her chin again to gaze at the ceiling. It was truly sensational. It was difficult to look away from.
“You shouldn’t rule any of it out,” Hilary said finally. “Notwith Oren.”
Rose’s heart seized. She’d half expected Hilary to tell her to drop it, to remind her that they lived in the real world, where real rules applied.
But Hilary didn’t do that.
Instead, Hilary said, “You might want to look into hiring a private investigator.”
Rose tilted her head with surprise.
“I know. You wanted to be the private investigator,” Hilary teased her lightly. “But there’s so much about this world you can’t know. It’s so deeply entrenched.” She spread out her fingers.
Rose knew Hilary was right. Hilary was from wealth. She understood the intricacies.
“I don’t want you to get in over your head,” Hilary said. “But you have money, now. Your own money. There’s no reason you can’t throw money at the problem and figure this out.”
Rose’s heart opened up. She remembered how strange it had been for her to learn that wealthy people just threw money at their problems to make them disappear.
Rose would never be as wealthy as Hilary or as Oren or as Mr. and Mrs. Walden. But she had enough for a private investigator. And she thought she owed it to herself—and to Natalie’s memory—to pursue this. She’d already bought the Grayson Estate, for heaven’s sake. This was her life’s work.
“I have a recommendation,” Hilary said, reaching into her pocket to find her phone. “She’s brilliant. Lives in Manhattan.”
“Why do you know a private investigator?” Rose asked with a laugh.
“You don’t want to know,” Hilary said.
“You’ll tell me later?”
Hilary raised her shoulders and gave Rose a funny smile. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Rose received a text message from Hilary, filled with the details for the private investigator.Vicky Smith.Was it her real name? It didn’t matter.
The other Salt Sisters arrived a few minutes later. They were overjoyed to be there, swallowing Rose in hugs. Rose tried to tuck all ideas about the private investigator into the back of her mind. But by the time they were on their second glasses of wine, Rose couldn’t take it anymore. She fled to the other side of the estate to send Vicky Smith an inquiry.
She wrote:I need to find Natalie Quinne Grayson. She apparently “died” in 1993, but there’s no death certificate to speak of, and the funeral seems fishy. They didn’t allow anyone to attend.
For background, I married Natalie’s husband not even a year after she “died.” I was very young. I hope you won’t think too harshly of me.
Money is no issue.
Rose stared at the message for a full thirty seconds before pressing send. She gasped, then hurried back to the table, where Katrina was doing an impression of a musician they all liked, and all the Salt Sisters were howling with laughter.
