“I think he’s following his heart. That’s what matters,” Dani says.
Annica counters, “But leaving the family business in Asher’s hands so his dad can siphon money through it? That place will have to shut down in a year, mark my words.”
I look over at Asher where he’s seated on the other end of the table with Erin. He says something that makes her laugh, and I wish I knew what it was. The waiter brings out the champagne with ice buckets and flutes, pouring us each a glass. Wes stands for a toast.
“I want to thank you all for helping me make Margot’s Bed-and-Breakfast a reality. I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Especially you, Sloane,” Wes says, looking over at me, and I smile up sheepishly. “I’d also like to announce that renovations on the house start in May, so we have the house to ourselves for spring break and I’d like you all to be there, all expenses paid, of course.”
“Wes!” Dani squeals. “I can’t keep going on these free trips—I feel bad!”
“Me too,” I say.
“Well, I don’t!” Jake says over us. “Cheers to chasing your dreams, bro.” Jake lifts his glass.
“And to Asher too,” Wes says. “You wanted the resort, and you’ve earned it. You always worked harder there than I did, so I’m glad it’s going to you.”
“Thanks, man. And if it doesn’t work out, you can always come back and be a partner at the resort. What’s mine is yours,” Asher says. “And what’s yours is mine.” He looks over at me and I quickly look away.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Wes laughs. “Cheers!”
Everyone sips their drinks, but I chug mine.
Chapter 28
April
I’m halfway through my shift, the last one before spring break, when I get a text from Annica. It’s a link to an article posted by a Boston news station.
Ivy Gate Professor Arrested for Multiple Homicides
I gasp, dropping the cup I was holding. It shatters on the floor.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I step over the glass and run to the back. “Jess, I have to make a quick call.”
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Better than okay!” I run from her office and out the back door.
I dial Grange. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.” He does on the last ring.
“I take it you saw the news,” he says.
“What happened?”
“All I can say is we found evidence that ties him to the homicides.”
“My journal?” I say. “Did you find my journal?”
He’s silent for a moment. “Not quite. It was a story, among other items.” A story? The story he brought to me in his briefcase?
“A story about what?” I pry.
“I really can’t give you any more details at this time—”
I cut him off. “I want to talk to him. Can you arrange that? I want to talk to Miles.” This just doesn’t seem right. There’s no evidence for three months, and now there’s a story among other items? What other items?
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Grange says.
“Please,” I plead. “Can I just see him? He’ll approve the visit: He’ll want to talk to me.”
