Page 32 of Rich Little Liars

‘He’s just friendly,’ I said. ‘That’s who he is.’

‘I’m sure you’re right.’ But her expression said she thought I was naive. That I was missing something obvious. ‘It’s just that yesterday, when that woman from the town shop stopped by⁠—’

‘Mrs Baskin?’

‘Is that her name? The one with the grey hair. He was very… I don’t know. Very focused on her. Laughing at everything she said. Standing quite close.’

Mrs Baskin was seventy if she was a day. The idea that Daniel might be flirting with her was absurd.

‘She was probably telling him about her grandson,’ I said. ‘Who’s applying for jobs in Daniel’s field. He was just being helpful. Offering advice.’

‘Oh.’ Roxanne looked embarrassed then. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve completely misread it. Forget I said anything.’

But she knew I wouldn’t forget. That was the point of planting these seeds. They took root whether you wanted them to or not.

‘Is everything okay?’ she asked after a moment. ‘Between you and Daniel? You seem tense lately. More withdrawn.’

‘I’m fine. We’re fine.’

‘Because if you ever need to talk…’

‘We’re fine, Roxanne.’

The sharpness in my voice surprised us both. She blinked, pulled back, and I felt guilty immediately. She was just trying to be a good friend. Just looking out for me. Except she wasn’t. She was doing something else. Something I couldn’t quite name but could feel in the way my shoulders stayed tight whenever she was around.

‘I should get to work,’ I said, standing. ‘Thank you for breakfast.’

‘Of course. I’ll get out of your way.’ She started gathering her things – her jacket, her bag, the paper bag from the bakery. Then she paused at the kitchen door. ‘Kelly? I really am sorry if I upset you. I care about you. About both of you. I just want you to be happy.’

‘I know.’

But I didn’t know. I didn’t know what Roxanne wanted any more. If I ever did.

She lingered there a moment longer, like she was waiting for me to say something else. To reassure her. To invite her back. When I didn’t, she gave a small smile – sad, resigned – and left. I watched from the kitchen window as she walked down the path and disappeared round the bend. Only when she was completely gone did I realise I’d been holding my breath. I know that’s a cliché – something you’d see posted over and over in some thriller-reading group – but I don’t care.

The house felt different without her. Lighter. The air less thick. I walked through the rooms – all seven of them on this floor alone – and everything looked the same but somehow wasn’t. The throw blanket she’d brought was still draped over the couch. The framed print she’d given us still hung in the hallway. Her presence had seeped into the fabric of this place, marking it in ways I couldn’t quite articulate but could feel everywhere I looked.

And I’d let her. That was the worst part. I’d grown too trusting through my comfortable life. A life I’d stumbled into rather than built. Daniel’s family wealth was the quiet kind – no yachts or private jets, just a portfolio of properties and a generous trust fund. The account never ran low, and I’d got too used to it. All this comfort had made me too soft. Too willing to let someone in because I’d never had to worry about what they might take.

Now I was paying for it.

I sat at her usual seat – the one facing the window – and tried to work out what had just happened. Tried to understand why a conversation about Daniel’s friendliness had left me feeling so unsettled.

Because it wasn’t just what she’d said. It was how she’d said it. That tone of concern layered over something else. Something that felt less like worry and more like… what? Satisfaction? Testing? Like she was checking to see if the seed had taken root. If I’d started doubting my own husband based on her observations.

And I had. That was what made it worse. I’d started watching Daniel differently, noticing the way he interacted with other women. Started questioning whether his natural warmth was actually something darker. Something I should be worried about.

But those doubts hadn’t existed before Roxanne. Before her comments and observations and the way she positioned herself as the one who saw clearly while I was too close to notice.

I thought about Mrs Baskin. About how Roxanne had described Daniel’s behaviour – focused, attentive, standing too close. It had undoubtedly been nothing but a kind man offering career advice to a grandmother worried about her grandson.

Nothing more.

So why had Roxanne made it sound like something else? Why had she twisted a perfectly innocent moment into evidence of wandering eyes and inappropriate attention?

The answer sat heavily in my stomach.

Because she wanted me to doubt him – to see threats where none existed. Wanted to create distance between Daniel and me by making me suspicious. Making me watchful. Making me the sort of wife who questioned every interaction her husband had.