Sara and Jack were sitting side by side. Neither of them were relaxed around strangers. They needed to get to know people first.
When Barbara started retelling Billy’s Lonely Laird story, Sara turned to Jack and said softly, “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing.” His words were terse.
“Ah. You were told what my brother overheard Kate saying.”
Only a slight movement of his chin said yes. “What if I make a mess of it?”
She knew he wasn’t talking about murder or the tableful of guests. As always, his major concern in life was Kate. “All the heroes in my books have ultimate confidence—until they fall in love. Then they’re scared out of their minds.”
“Great. Now I’m someone you made up.”
She knew he meant that in a derogatory way, but she didn’t take it as such. “You mean you’re like my heroes? The kind of man women dream of? Hope for? That they spend their lives searching for?”
He gave a half smile.
“Did you buy her a ring?”
“Years ago. I carry it with me always.”
Sara grinned at that. “Then take Kate and the ring and a bottle of champagne to the cottage. Let that place do its magic.” She put her hand on his forearm. “Don’t leave it too long.”
Barbara’s voice grew louder. Obviously, she didn’t like having her storytelling ignored. Again, Sara repressed the urge to roll her eyes. She knew a bit about storytelling.
After dinner, they went to the pretty living room. Contrary to Kate’s protests, she had decorated it beautifully. There was much less color than in Sara’s house. Like most people of Kate’s generation, she had a love of white rooms. Sara, who had researched the meaning of color for one of her books, said it was “opening your mind to all ideas.” Kate liked that. The white upholstered furniture was interspersed with cushions and ornaments that Sara had kept in storage for years. A large bronze sculpture of a Kayan woman, rings around her neck, was in a corner on a pedestal. A tiny art spotlight shone down on her.
“I do so like this room,” Barbara said as she sat down. “It’s so much better than the way Billy had it.”
“That was from James Lachlan,” Lea said. “Billy had no choice. It wasn’t his taste either.”
“But yet, it was all sold,” Reid said. His eyes rarely left Rachel, but so far, no one had seen her look at him.
“I miss the big cabinet in the hallway,” Rachel said. “Greer used to hide in it.” For the first time, she glanced at Reid, then away again.
Sadness settled on Reid’s face. “Sorry,” he said. “I still miss my little sister.”
“I understand missing someone. It lasts forever,” Barbara said. “Greer was an unusual girl. She was...” She couldn’t seem to finish.
“Awkward and strange?” Rachel said.
Reid frowned. “She couldn’t help it. She was isolated by our grandmother. She wasn’t used to people.”
Sara was standing by the fireplace and waiting for them to settle. She didn’t want the job of being moderator, but no one else was stepping forward to do it. But then, the others were too involved with the guests to be fully detached. “Excuse me,” she said loudly and they all turned to her. “We know who is deceased, but one of the guests is missing.”
“Billy,” Barbara said. “How is he?”
Sara glared at her. The actress knew who Sara meant.
“Oh yes. The other one,” Barbara said. “I’m sure we all assumed that this party had to do with Derek Oliver. We just didn’t want to face it.” She looked at Lea. “What happened between you two when he finally got home?”
“He never showed up.” Lea’s tone told that she wasn’t unhappy about that.
When everyone looked at Sara, she took a breath for courage. “Recently, through a series of events, we found Derek Oliver’s body. He has been dead for years, probably from the time of the house party.”
The Medlar group was watching the others and they all seemed to be astonished into silence.
Barbara recovered first. “Was he buried somewhere?” she asked. “On the property?”
