Dolly’s gaze flicks to the far side of the room, where Gigi Wentworth-Crane holds court near a mirror, all jewel-toned elegance and perfect posture. She’s supervising a stylist who’s trying to pin a silk scarf in place, her sharp green eyes missing nothing.
Dolly’s lips press together. “You really want to know what Vivi was doing?”
“Yes.”
“She was building a bonfire,” Dolly whispers. “And we were the kindling.”
Percy ruffles, clearly pleased. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Carlotta leans in, smelling blood in the proverbial water. “Spill it, Dolly. What did Mother Vivi have on you, hot mamas?”
Dolly hesitates. She glances back at Gigi, then at Midge, who is currently fussing over the refreshment table like it’s the most important event of the last century, adjusting doilies under platters of deviled eggs.
“I probably shouldn’t say,” Dolly murmurs. “It’s not my story to tell.”
“Those are my favorite stories,” Carlotta says.
“Mine, too,” I mutter to myself. I give Dolly a pained smile. “I’m not asking you to betray anyone. I’m asking you to help me make sure the person who did this pays for it. Vivi was planning some sort of retrospective, right? Some big exposé at the Mother’s Day tea? Some sort of files she was keeping?”
I leave out the part about Percy hinting that Vivi had files on everyone.
Dolly flinches at the word files.
“She kept records,” Dolly admits. “On all of us. She said it was for the Daughters’ historical archive.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen less documentation in IRS audits.”
Carlotta snorts. “You would know.”
“That woman knew how to weaponize a filing cabinet,” Percy agrees.
“Dolly.” I keep my voice gentle. “Did she have something on you?”
A beat of silence stretches between us, thick with a hint of humiliation.
“Yes,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Financial things. From years ago. A mistake I’ve been trying to fix, but Vivi… she liked having leverage. Let’s just say,” she swallows hard, “if certain discrepancies came to light, I’d lose more than my business.”
My mind spins. Embezzlement. Charity funds. “The money the Daughters raise for the women’s shelter,” I say slowly. My mother has told me countless times that it’s one of their biggest achievements. “That’s what Vivi was looking at lately, isn’t it?”
Dolly goes sheet-white. “Please don’t,” she begs. “Not here. Not now.”
“I’m not judging,” I say as I pat Ozzy’s back and he starts to hum. “But if Vivi was about to expose you?—”
“She was about to expose everyone.” Dolly’s voice sharpens. She lifts her chin, freckles standing out starkly. “Do you think I’m the only one who made mistakes? Vivi delighted in them. She called it accountability. I call it blackmail.” She nods subtly toward to her left. “Why don’t you ask her. That woman knows everything.”
My gaze follows, and I spot Gigi as she laughs at something the stylist says, her head tipping back with grace, but her hands never stop moving, adjusting a floral scarf, rearranging bobby pins. Her rings flash like warning lights.
“What did Vivi have on Gigi?” I ask.
Dolly hesitates.
“Dolly,” I press. “If Gigi has a motive, I need to know. I’m not trying to ruin her life. I’m trying to keep mine from being ruined by a killer on the loose.”
Percy nods. “Tell her. The truth wants out! Hurry, quick! It’s leaking all overthe linoleum.”
Dolly exhales, shoulders slumping. “Gigi’s whole life is about appearances,” she says. “Vivi knew that. Her shop, her events, her ‘founding family’ status. All that Wentworth-Crane elegance.” She swallows. “Her mother wasn’t a founding Daughter. She wasn’t even a Daughter. She was turned down. Repeatedly.”
My jaw drops. “But Gigi?—”
“Has been telling everyone for forty years that her mother helped start the organization,” Dolly finishes. “Vivi found the original rejection letters in the archive. She threatened to make them the centerpiece of her little retrospective. Reading them out loud. At the Motherhood Memories Tea.” She shudders. “In front of everyone.”
