Page 24 of Bluebell Tides

Celia unscrewed the top of her water bottle and drank, eyeing the massive house. “It’s something, isn’t it?” she said finally. And then she lowered her voice and said, “I think that’s the Caldweck house.”

“Caldweck?” Ruth murmured. She could hardly breathe.

“They’re one of the wealthiest families on the East Coast,” Celia said. “According to research I was dipping my toes into last year, they own about two hundred and fifty factories along the coast and into the Midwest. I couldn’t prove it, exactly, but there have been suspicions of terrible business practices. Terrible environmental practices. Terrible everything, actually.”

Ruth’s heart shook like a drum. “Why doesn’t somebody stop them?”

Celia grimaced and explained that three years ago, she and Sophie had been instrumental in stopping another wealthy Bluebell family from destroying the coastline. “Since then, I think the wealthy families in the area have gotten better at protecting themselves. I couldn’t figure out exactly what they’re up to. Then again, I’m not as hungry for stories as I once was. There’s so much to take care of at the Eco-Lodge.” She gave Ruth a look that Ruth couldn’t fully translate.

Ruth raised her chin, trying and failing to see anything in the backyard, in the front yard, in the windows. It looked like an ominous, empty mansion, a place where wealthy people sat in air-conditioned rooms and hated everyone and everything that wasn’t them. It was hard to believe she’d ever sat with them, eating caviar and drinking champagne and trying and failing to learn their ways.

“Let’s go,” Ruth stammered, disappointment making her stomachache. Why had she been so sure that she’d see something? Why had she been so sure that, if she were brave enough to walk past the Caldweck mansion, she’d figure something else out?

But a few minutes deeper into the hike, Ruth asked Celia for all the information Celia had about the Caldweck family fortune, about the factories, about the terrible business practices. Maybe Celia was more useful to Ruth than she’d initially thought.

13

Three hours after she departed from the Eco-Lodge, Sophie’s mother, Celia, returned from her hike with Ruth, unlacing her boots as she asked Sophie what she’d missed while she was gone. “Oh, I checked in the Millers, that couple from New Hampshire. They seem good. Oh, and there was a minor breakfast incident, but I cleaned everything up.” Sophie didn’t want to tell her mother she felt that life behind the desk at the Eco-Lodge was becoming endlessly mundane. She missed researching, writing papers, and furthering her career. She missed using her brain, even if she felt she didn’t deserve it just then. Because of the fire. Because of what she’d done. Because of what she hadn’t been able to stop.

“Your Aunt Ivy wants to have a dinner party tonight,” Celia said, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s a gorgeous day. We should enjoy it.”

“Okay. Is Ruth coming?” Sophie prayed her voice didn’t betray her interest.

“I don’t think so. Ruth went to town to do a little more research, I guess. But she told me why she’s here longer than she initially planned. Apparently, Bluebell is perfect for the novel she’s writing. Something about a small town? Mysteries? Secrets?” Celia laughed and padded past Sophie, distracted by something. Before Sophie could ask another question, Celia was already on the phone with a repairman, explaining that there was something wrong with the staircase. “The bottom one is slightly crooked,” she said. “And we can’t have that, not with people going up and down the steps all day. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Before Celia got off the phone, more guests arrived at the Eco-Lodge to check in, and Sophie dropped back into her work—reminding herself that her obsession with Ruth wasn’t healthy.

Hours later, after another employee took over the front desk at the Lodge, Sophie changed into a navy blue dress and went to her Aunt Ivy’s place for a family barbecue. This is what my social life has been reduced to, she told herself, which she knew was a joke. Last year, she’d hardly spent any time with her roommates and had instead devoted all her time to falling in love with Ethan. Look where that had gotten her.

When she arrived, Lily was sitting cross-legged at the back picnic table, sipping rosé slowly. She smiled when Sophie appeared and got up to hug her. Everything smelled of grilled meat and melting cheese, and Sophie’s mouth watered, a reminder that she’d skipped lunch. In front of Lily, on the picnic table, were notes Lily was taking for what looked to be a research paper about the environmental effects of artificial intelligence. Sophie forced her eyes away.

“How was work?” Lily asked.

“Another day, another dollar,” Sophie said, then wrinkled her nose at how annoying she sounded.

Theo was at the grill, flipping burgers and chicken. A speaker played a family playlist, which Celia and Sophie had put together last summer. It reminded Sophie of happier times.

“Theo, that food yesterday was to die for,” Lily said as Sophie settled in beside her.

Theo laughed. “You should have told us you were coming. We could have made it really special. I’m sorry we couldn’t focus on you. Those investors…” He trailed off and grimaced.

“Yeah! Who are they?” Sophie asked, remembering their expensive-looking suits and their furtive glances.

“A bunch of idiots who think they’re better than everyone,” Theo said under his breath, right as Celia and Ivy walked out onto the back porch, carrying grocery bags.

“Are you talking about us?” Celia teased, laughing.

“I only say good things about the two of you,” Theo said.

“You better.” Ivy began removing things from the grocery bags: chips, guacamole, hummus, and pita bread.

“Speaking of,” Celia said. “I walked past the Caldweck house today. I forgot how enormous it is.”

“Oh yeah. Sir Caldweck was in the midst yesterday,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. “He and his son. One of them. I can’t ever distinguish who is who.”

“Ren was one of them, right?” Ivy asked.

“Ren and Quentin, I think,” Juliet said, striding out onto the porch with a bottle of wine under her arm.