"I'll lose tens of thousands of followers," she said, her face tight with panic. "Once this gets out, it'll ruin everything. Everyone will know. Our friends. Jason's boss, the school…"
"We'll handle it," Rowan said. "Girls letting off some steam online is a far cry from pushing a girl over a cliff. They weren't physically violent, ever." Her sympathetic gaze flicked to Brooke. "Except for Alexis."
Brooke looked like she was about to faint. "It was one time."
"How did Vivienne even find that damn diary?" Whitney asked suddenly. "Viv said the police looked through Leah's room and didn't find anything. Nothing on her phone, either."
Rowan lowered herself back onto the loveseat, smoothing her pants of wrinkles. "Someone must have told her where to look."
Heat surged under my skin, prickling along my arms and the back of my neck. As one, the others shifted, a collective recalibration, as if they were turning toward a noise I'd made without realizing it. The room felt smaller, airless.
"I texted her," I heard myself say, already wishing I'd kept my damn mouth shut. "About the diary. Viv asked me to see if Mia knew where Leah hid it."
Whitney's head tilted, as if confused. She rubbed her thumb along the diamonds in her tennis bracelet. "You told her?"
"Why the hell would you do that?" Brooke's eyes had an angryglint to them, the first spark breaking through her worry. "That was a stupid thing to do."
My heart pounded too fast. It vibrated inside my ribs. "She's Leah's mother. She deserved to know."
"Of course she did," Rowan said after a pause. "No one's blaming you."
Brooke's taut expression suggested otherwise. I felt myself shrinking from their disapproval. Shame heated my cheeks, even though I didn't have anything to be ashamed of.
The clock on Brooke's mantel ticked. My breath sounded too loud in my ears. Too fast, too shallow. The air had changed. The molecules were rearranging themselves. Blame in Whitney's face, anger in Brooke's scowl.
"I should get home," Whitney said abruptly. She rechecked her phone as if some emergency had materialized in the last thirty seconds. "Peyton has swim practice from four to six, then piano, and her personal trainer comes by after dinner."
I thought of the circled name in the diary. "Who's Taylor Everett?"
Whitney froze mid-step. Her hand tightened on her phone. "What?"
"The name is in the diary. Circled multiple times."
Whitney waved a hand dismissively. "A girl from the neighborhood. She got high on something and went swimming at a pool party. Nearly drowned. It was terrible. The family moved across the country within weeks of the accident."
Rowan and Brooke exchanged a weighted glance. Another look between Rowan and Whitney, and between Rowan and Brooke. Tiny, invisible messages I wasn't a part of. My stomach lurched.
"It was such a shame," Rowan said. "They were a lovely family. But that has nothing to do with Leah."
Before I could say anything else, the rumble of a car engine sounded outside. Brooke's head snapped toward the window. Her body went rigid. "Oh, that'll be Jason. I didn't realize he'd be stopping by for lunch."
A moment later, the garage side door opened. Jason stepped in, phone already in hand, thumbs moving. In his early fifties, several years older than Brooke, he was lean and rangy, his linen shirt rumpled at the elbows, his square, black-framed glasses slightly skewed. He was handsome in a disheveled professor sort of way.
Brooke slid her wine glass behind the lamp on the end table and stood, smoothing her already glossy hair. Her smile appeared, bright and practiced. She went to Jason and kissed his stubbled cheek. "Hey, babe. You didn't tell me you'd be home for lunch. I would've made avocado toast or a smoothie for you."
He didn't look up. "Just looking for my hunter green tie. The Hermès one. I've got the Dearborn meeting at 2:00 p.m."
"It's at the cleaners, remember? I told you this morning." Her voice was light and cheerful. "I can grab the navy striped one from your closet."
"Never mind, I'll find something." He finally glanced up, seeming to register the room for the first time. His gaze swept over the other mothers, landed briefly on me, then returned to his wife. "Oh hey, ladies. Everything okay?"
Rowan's smile matched Brooke's. "We're fine, Jason. Nice to see you."
He kissed the air near his wife’s cheek, automatic, perfunctory. Brooke flushed. "Don't have too much fun, ladies."
He headed down the hall. His footsteps receded toward the primary bedroom.
Brooke turned back to us, the brightness still fixed on her face. She laughed lightly, rolling her eyes. "Sorry about that. Always something."
