“I know. I wanted so badly to believe him and forget about it. Then last week Matt came home late, and we got in a huge fight. I accused him of being with her, but he denied it and told me she lives in Colorado.” I glance at the guest room. “Last night he never came home at all. Then, this morning I noticed he’d taken half his clothes out of our closet, and I called his office. He told me he was done—over the phone—and that he’d gotten an apartment, saying thatSydneyis moving from Colorado to live with him.” Saying her name makes my stomach curl. “And ...” I frown and pick a piece of lint off my blacksweatpants. “He said that he’ll be back next week to get the rest of his things.” I exhale, resting the stem of my glass on my knee. “Guess I should’ve trusted my gut.”
“I’m so sorry, Palmer.”
My gaze locks with Beth’s. The somber look in her eyes reminds me of how she looked at me that day on our rafting trip twenty years ago, when we rejoined the others without Courtney. I force the memory from my mind. “Let’s talk about something else. I need to stop obsessing about it.” For the first time, I envy Beth’s having never gotten married. Matt’s leaving is so painful, it feels like I’m being ripped in two. Thinking about how I’m going to tell the girls makes me queasy. “How was your first graduation as university president?”
Beth slips off her heels and rests her bare feet against the edge of the coffee table, the shine of her pink-polished toes reflecting the light from the ceiling fan.
“Oof. Well, the graduation itself was good, but so far managing collegeprofessorsis a lot more work than managing college students. Now that the spring semester is finished, I spent all day schmoozing with a group of wealthy alumni at a fundraiser downtown.” Beth presses her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Feels like I spent the day dancing for tips.”
A half smile reaches my lips as I envision Beth, always the bookworm and rule follower, on a stripper pole.
Beth frowns, her gaze moving to our family portrait. “I never liked Matt, you know.”
I twist in my seat. “What? Yes, you did. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Beth had made quips about Matt over the years, but I never thought she’d meant anything by them. She’s always been a girl’s girl. And protective of me.
Beth shakes her head. “I’ve known he was an asshole for years. Remember that time we went on a double date when I was seeing that English professor?”
I rack my brain. “At the Italian restaurant?”
“Yes. You and I went to the bathroom, and I came back to the table first as the waitress brought the check. Matt was totally ogling her, not realizing I was standing right behind him, then made this crude comment to my date about her ass. How if he weren’t a married man, he’d get a piece of that.”
I recoil. “No.Matt?”
Beth presses her lips together and nods slowly. “Yes.Matt.”
“You never told me.”
Beth lays a hand on my knee. “I should have, and I’m sorry. I knew he’d deny it, and I didn’t want to cause problems between you two. Or you and me, for that matter. Look, I know his leaving is a shock, and it’s hard right now, but I honestly think you’ll be better off without him.”
I take a large gulp of wine, hoping she’s right.
“You should come,” Beth says. “On the sailing trip,” she adds when I don’t respond.
She didn’t need to clarify. I knew what she meant.
“I don’t know ...” I’d been quick to say no when Gigi invited me last month to sail from Seattle to San Diego. Gigi played up the trip like it was a tribute to Courtney, to memorialize her on the weekend that will mark twenty years since we came home without her. But all Gigi cares about is growing her already huge TikTok following, and her sponsor who’s paying top dollar for the trip. Gigi hasn’t called me in years, so I was surprised when she called last month with the invite.
Beth is the only one out of the group that I’ve stayed in close touch with. The thought of seeing the others, and the memories it would dredge up, was more than I could stomach. So, I used my parental responsibilities and work as an excuse not to go. I swallow over the lump that forms in my throat at the thought of my job at the hospital, wondering how I’ll ever go back.
I turn to Beth. “I’m surprisedyou’regoing. Plus, you hate boats. And you know Gigi only wants us to go to fuel her publicity of the trip. She knows the four of us all back together again will get a lot of coverage. How’d you even get the time off?”
“The board insisted I go.”
I nearly choke on my wine. I sit forward, clearing my throat. “What?Why?”
“Remember that article in theTimesthat came out last year right after the university announced me as their new president?”
I nod, lifting the glass to my lips. It highlighted the vast number of people who went missing in the Pacific Northwest’s national parks, particularly in Olympic National Park, where Courtney vanished. The article raised several conspiracy theories that could explain a portion of the disappearances, but when it came to Courtney’s, theTimesarticle cited foul play. It named Beth as one of “the four” who returned without Courtney on that now infamous trip. The piece made sure to cast the four of us in a bad light, as countless articles had done before, highlighting the suspicion we all fell under for coming home without Courtney and how we were scrutinized for not looking harder for our volleyball captain, who was never found—especially after Courtney’s reputation came to light.
The article failed to mention the heavy rainstorm that pummeled the area right after I called 911 and how it hindered initial rescue efforts by limiting visibility not only for the search and rescue helicopters but for those on foot. The storm was also to blame for washing away any evidence of Courtney’s footsteps in the remote forest.
Instead, the reporter closed the part about Courtney with a quote from a retired detective: “If you want to murder someone and get away with it, do it in Olympic National Park.”
It doesn’t matter how many years go by, we’ll always be marred by that horrible trip.
I take another large drink, recalling theSequim Gazette’s front-page headline splayed across my parents’ kitchen table after we returned—without Courtney—from our rafting trip.Accident or Mean Girls Murder Plot?
News vans were parked outside my home for weeks afterward. At first, I’d been naive enough to speak to them—until that mistake brought a torrent of allegations, publicly marring my reputation sobadly I was afraid to leave the house for months. Last year, when Courtney’s parents died tragically in a plane accident, the news coverage started up all over again.
