Page 130 of A Million To Fall

Ever since New York, the entire Longfellow family has been at their most charming. Archer, especially. Flowers. Apologies. Breakfast in bed delivered by room service. Until I finally told him I forgave him, just to get him to stop. He seems to think we’re back to normal.

We’re not. Not even close.

“Oh, hi Lexi!” Mrs. Longfellow calls, waving across the room like she’s not disturbing the whole damn spa.

Mrs. Davis looks around, spots us, then smiles. “Stella!”

They give each other past-the-cheek kisses like the French do.

Just an hour ago, Boston was telling me about the apartment he couldn’t get while we stood outside Riverfront in a parking lot that looked one pothole away from total collapse. Now I’m inside a luxury spa, sipping cucumber water and enjoying amenities that come with Mrs. Longfellow’s twelve-hundred-dollar monthly membership fee.

The contrast is enough to give me whiplash.

“And hello Skye,” Mrs. Davis says smoothly. “Would you two like to join me in the steam room?”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Longfellow chirps.

We follow her, slipping into the foggy room. I inhale the scent of eucalyptus, then settle on one of the wooden benches. The room is empty except for the three of us.

“So, you two are enjoying a little girls’ date?” Mrs. Davis asks.

“Yes, getting some quality time with my favorite girl before she heads back to Northwestern soon,” Mrs. Longfellow says.

“Northwestern?” Mrs. Davis repeats. Her tone is pleasant, but there’s something pinched behind her eyes. “Where’s that again?”

“Chicago,” I say, already bracing.

Mrs. Davis frowns. “Oh, but that’s far.”

Mrs. Longfellow nods. “Archer doesn’t love the long distance.” She smiles faintly. “But Skye is thinking about transferring to the University of Minnesota to be with Arch.”

I suffocate the urge to roll my eyes. There are a lot of things I do Archer doesn’t love.

“You’re so lucky, Stella. Arch really won the lottery with Skye,” Mrs. Davis says. “Jake hasn’t brought anyone home. There are girls, but none he deems worthy.”

“Give it time,” Mrs. Longfellow says. “Boys take longer to grow out of the need to spread their seed.” She laughs softly, then falls silent for a moment, leaning in closer. “So, uh, I ran into Rachel yesterday at the church picnic committee meeting.”

Mrs. Davis raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, yeah?”

“She told me about your girls’ night last week.” Mrs. Longfellow’s words are heavy with meaning, though I don’t know what that is.

Mrs. Davis’s grin sharpens. “Yeah?”

Mrs. Longfellow nods. “I have to say, it sounds exceptionally intriguing.”

“You’re in luck. I’m having another one tomorrow. I’d love to have you join,” Mrs. Davis says. There’s something in her tone I can’t quite decipher.

Mrs. Longfellow inhales slowly, her tongue skimming her bottom lip. “What’s the buy-in?”

“Depends. Three hundred if you just want to watch. Six if you want to play. I take a third since I’m providing the goods,” Mrs. Davis says, flashing a smile so white it practically glows in the steam.

My brain trips. Play? They must be talking about bunco or maybe poker?

Mrs. Longfellow giggles. “Right. And does ‘play’ include… home?”

Mrs. Davis nods. “Absolutely. In any shape you like.”

Mrs. Longfellow hesitates. “It’s… tempting. But six hundred’s a lot. Is it worth it?”