Page 23 of My Sister is Going to Kill Me

Fiona eked out another tight, closed-lip smile. “What’s with all the questions? Why are you two here, anyway?”

Liv looked to Mandy to explain. If the superfan story was indeed a lie, Liv wasn’t going to repeat it. Maybe Mandy had a different explanation now. Maybe she was even ready to tell the truth about her connection to Babette, whatever it was.

“I shouldn’t tell you this, but . . .” Mandy winked at Liv. “My sister’s on a top secret mission.”

Liv wanted to scream. Or slap her. Or both. “I’m not—”

“Don’t be modest,” Mandy said. “Liv is a profiler for the State Department. She’s an international special investigator. Like James Bond.”

“And you got assigned to this river trip?” Fiona sounded skeptical.

“To find Babette?” Imogen asked.

Mandy was smiling wide now, giving Liv an encouraging nod. Liv knew what her sister wanted. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She was constitutionally incapable of telling bald-faced lies. Just thinking about it made her want to jump in the river.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Liv said. “But I’m an analyst. I don’t work in the field. And I’d never heard of Babette Sauvage before this trip.”

“They coach them to go in with an open mind,” Mandy improvised. “Blank slate.”

“Mandy, please. That’s not—”

“They train them to deny everything,” Mandy said.

“I’ve never met a secret agent before,” Imogen said.

“Nor have I,” Lucinda added.

“I am not a spy,” Liv said.

“Bet that’s what they all say,” Thor stage-whispered to Lucinda.

The older woman nodded.

“Skin care is not an issue of global security,” Liv said. She had a full-blown headache now. “And I have no connection with Babette. I’m just here on vacation with my sister.”

Her words hit the swirling water and sank out of view. She didn’t have to look to know Mandy was disappointed. No matter how far they traveled, they always seemed to find themselves at this same crossroads, where expectation met disappointment from both directions.

Salvation came from an unlikely source. Imogen piped up in a haughty tone. “Babette’s lucky we’re here, given she didn’t have the courtesy to show.”

“Imogen!” Lucinda gave her a little swat on the back.

“Nana, I run a business, too,” Imogen said. “First, you made us come a day early so you could visit that stupid museum. And now we’re in a total media blackout. I’m losing channel followers by the minute. If Babette doesn’t arrive soon . . .”

“What’s your channel called?” Mandy asked.

“PureImogeNation. On Hitch.”

Her words made no discernible impression on the adults in the boat.

“Hitch? The video platform? I review beauty products?” Imogen looked beseechingly at the blank faces. When she didn’t see what she wanted, her expression soured. She turned to Lucinda. “I can’t believe you convinced me to drop out of the algo for a week to float down a stupid river.”

“An opportunity like this will pay dividends,” Lucinda said. She turned from her granddaughter to address the others. “Imogen is Babette Botanique’s youngest spokesmodel ever. She hit two million followers on Hitch when she announced the partnership.” Her tone was even, but there was a waver beneath it. Was Lucinda proud of her granddaughter? Embarrassed?

“How did you get so many followers?” Mandy asked.

“Part of it’s because of my background. We’re related to the British royals.”

“Distantly,” Lucinda said.