The girl had been with her nanny, Nanny Kate, whom I would get to know well in coming years. I’d stepped forward and held out a miniature plastic penguin that Aunt DeeDee had given me the night before—to help you break the ice.
Savilla had studied the object in my palm and hurried to her backpack, taking out a stuffed lion with a soft mane, which she’d held next to my penguin. She’d given Momma and me a wide grin, one tooth already missing. “Look. They’re the same.”
I’d looked up at Momma, who had shrugged as if to say,Just go with it. At five, though, with my literal way of seeing the world,going with ithadn’t been a possibility for me.
“They’re not the same,” I’d insisted, taking her animal and holding them both up to the light in case she needed glasses. “My penguin is smooth and your lion is furry.”
“Do you love your penguin? What’s her name?” Savilla had asked, completely ignoring my explanation.
“Yes,” I’d answered, with the childhood affinity for any object smaller than me. “Her name is Poppy the Penguin.”
“This is Harriet the Lion,” Savilla had said, grabbing her stuffy and combing back the fur with two fingers. “And I love her too, just the same as you.”
That’s when I’d realized that Savilla hadn’t been referring to the objects as being exact replicas of one another; it was the feelings we’d assigned to those objects… and, okay, I hadn’t realized this at five, but I did now, and it gave me a bit of insight into the way that my half-sister’s brain worked. She was very big picture, very much not detail oriented, which was where I came in.
Maybe channeling some of my half-sister’s way of thinking could help me solve Lacy’s blackmail problem as well as Brett’s murder. I thought about all of this as I followed Lacy to her room with a promise that we would figure out everything in the morning when we were in a more rested and less distraught state of mind.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I tried to assure her.
“I just keep seeing The Worst,” Lacy whispered, as we reached her door. I knew she was referring to a thought experiment we had made up in high school in which we would imagine the absolute worst-case scenario to its final end. Like, if I failed my biology final, I would get a C on my report card, which meant that I wouldn’t be salutatorian and I might struggle to get into vet school and then decide just not to attend college at all, which would mean I’d be working at a chicken coop for the rest of my life and I’d probably be so desperate that I would marry Joe Larson and have twelve babies and hate my life.
We would usually end up in a fit of giggles, stress temporarily relieved, but today The Worst was having naked pictures sent to her clients, potentially losing a lot of her hard-won business and causing contention with Anton, though I hoped the last partwasn’t true. I hoped he would be the kind of guy who would see the past as the past and support Lacy come what may, but the reality was that I didn’t know him that well.
I hugged Lacy goodbye, my heart aching at her brave attempt at a smile as she disappeared into the room where Anton’s snores already filled the air.
I wanted to sleep too, but first I needed to find Savilla.
Thankfully, it wasn’t hard since she was back in the vestibule, handing out keys to the few remaining guests who must’ve just been released by Charlie and his crew.
“Find anything useful on that CD drive?”
My mind was swirling with so much information that I actually wasn’t sure. “Maybe.” I paused, uncertain how to broach the question I really wanted to ask. I decided to be direct. “Were you here for the 2021 pageant?”
“I don’t think so.” Savilla bit her lip, thinking back. “Wait. At least not for the last exhibitionist.”
I was certain Savilla wasn’t using the right word, but I let it slide as she continued.
“One of my friends had a gallery opening in New York that same night, so I left before the final pageant show.” Savilla tilted her head, questioning me. “Why?”
“I was just wondering if you happened to see Brett that year.”
“Not that I remember, though he would show up on occasion, especially when we were kids. Everyone used to volunteer back then.All hands on deck, Daddy would say.”
“Any idea who he might’ve written his song about? The one that got away?”
“Sorry, no idea.” Savilla shrugged.
I couldn’t tell if the way she’d answered was dismissive or avoidant, but I was so tired that I probably couldn’t read anyone right at this point.
Savilla turned to the brass keys. “I put you in The Original. It’s down the hall from mine, so if you need anything, I’m only a few steps away.”
Hooray. It could almost be like a sister-sleepover, except I was starting to suspect she knew more than she was saying—and she still didn’t know we were sisters.
“Do you want him in your room?” Savilla asked sweetly, a hint of teasing in her eyes.
“Who?”
“Charlie.”
