Sam drove home, her mind turning over everything she’d learned at the memorial service.Sofia’s revelation about the argument, Claire’s continuing sorrow over Gerald’s death.
At home, Arlo greeted her with his usual enthusiasm, doing his welcome-home dance and snuffling at her legs.Sam changed into comfortable clothes and took him for a quick walk around the neighborhood, letting the fresh air clear her head.
When they finished their walk and were heading back inside, her phone buzzed with a text from Aiden.How was the memorial service?
Sad.Sparsely attended.But informative.Are you free after school lets out?
Aiden wrote back.For you?Of course.I’ll run by after work.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sam spent the restof the afternoon doing mundane tasks around the house with Arlo following her from room to room, “helping.”She put away laundry and then settled at the kitchen table withMiddlemarch.She was on page 512 now, deep into the middle sections where the various storylines were beginning to intersect.She was reading about Bulstrode, the respectable banker with buried secrets from his past.
Sam made careful notes.Something about this storyline felt relevant.A man who’d built a new life, a respectable reputation, all constructed on top of a past he desperately wanted to keep hidden.When someone threatened to expose him, he became dangerous.Sam added a pink tab:Reputation as survival.Dylan?
By the time Aiden walked up her driveway, she’d read another twenty pages and had more questions than answers about bothMiddlemarchand the murders.
He gave her a quick hug.“Long day?”
“You could say that.Memorial services are never fun, but this one felt particularly awkward.Feel like a snack?”
Aiden said, “Actually, that would be awesome.My lunch period got abbreviated by some students taking makeup tests, so I haven’t had much to eat today.”
Sam immediately took out cutting boards, cheese, crackers, grapes, almonds, honey, fig jam, and before she could stop herself, was arranging everything into an elaborate spread worthy of a lifestyle magazine.
Aiden watched with barely concealed amusement as she created perfect little clusters of grapes, fanned out the crackers in overlapping circles, and arranged the cheese slices at calculated intervals.
“Sam.”
“Hmm?”She was concentrating on drizzling honey in an artistic zigzag pattern.
“It’s just a snack.”
Sam looked down at what she’d created.A charcuterie board acceptable for a dinner party.For a random weekday afternoon.While they were discussing murder.
“I think I have a problem,” she admitted.
