“That wouldn’t happen,” Aubrey says, so quickly that I snort.
“Hell no,” Milly agrees.
“And some things are just creepy,” Hazel says. “Like, there’s this gross rumor that one of Allison’s brothers got her pregnant, and the rest of them tried to cover it up. But Mildred found out, and went ballistic on all of them. And that the baby is still—”
“What?” Milly interrupts in a piercing shriek. The look on her face is flat-out murderous. “People actually say that? That’s completely and utterly disgusting!”
Hazel looks like she wants to crawl under the couch. I think she might’ve legitimately forgotten, for a few minutes, that she was talking about a real family. “I know. I’m sorry,” she says, slamming the cover of her notebook closed. “I didn’t mean— Look, no one actually believes it. Honestly. People just like to gossip and make shit up.”
Milly stares blankly at Hazel, like she’s about to burst into furious tears, and I have the irrational urge to punch someone. Not Hazel, obviously. Or her grandfather. But someone. Even Aubrey, who always struck me as the kind of person who’d release bugs outdoors instead of squashing them, looks ready to fight. Her hands are curled at her sides as she says, “I’d more easily believe they all killed somebody than that.”
There’s a crashing sound then, as Dr. Baxter’s knee knocks heavily into the tray table in front of him. The three girls turn toward him in unison as he fumbles for his teacup, staring at the bottom like it’s disappointed him. “Where’s my hot chocolate?” he asks, moving his watery gaze somewhere over Hazel’s shoulder. “Katherine, it’s time for hot chocolate.”
“No it isn’t, Granddad. You aren’t supposed to have refined sugar. And Mom’s not here,” Hazel says with a sigh. She gets to her feet and moves the tray table a safe distance from the couch. “Katherine is my mother,” she adds over her shoulder. “I think I’d better get him settled upstairs. It’s not a great sign when he starts mixing us up.”
She helps her grandfather stand, and holds him steady as they begin a slow shuffle across the room. He’s still mumbling about hot chocolate when he passes Milly and Aubrey, both of whom look deeply unsettled. I’m pretty sure neither of them noticed that Dr. Baxter had clear, alert eyes on Hazel the entire time she was talking—right up until he deliberately bumped the table with his knee.
I’ll admit, I overpacked for the summer. But when I got dressed for my visit to Donald Camden’s office this morning, I was glad for my navy sheath and high-heeled sandals. I was heading for the closest thing Gull Cove Island has to a corporate environment, and I wanted to blend in. Now that I’m seated in the plush waiting area, though, I’m not sure why I bothered. I haven’t seen a single other person except the receptionist, who’s currently filing her nails.
I listen to the receptionist answer an incoming call—it sounds like someone is trying to sell her a new copy machine—as I smooth out the flyer that I grabbed from the GCI HAPPENINGS bulletin board I passed on my way here.
Friday, July 9
Rock on with the Asteroids
Gull Cove Island’s Premier ’80s Cover Band
9:00 p.m. at Dunes
It’s super cheesy, and I only picked it up because of the small lettering at the bottom: FEATURING ROB VALENTINE, JOHN O’DELL, CHARLIE PETRONELLI, AND CHAZ JONES.
I don’t know Chaz the bartender’s last name, but there can’t be that many people named Chaz on Gull Cove Island. He hasn’t come back to work yet, so I haven’t had a chance to ask him for Edward Franklin’s contact information. I’d love to track Edward down before brunch with Mildred on Sunday, so…it looks like I’m headed to eighties night at Dunes. Maybe I can rally a few Towhees to come with me.
“Miss Story-Takahashi? Mr. Camden will see you now,” the receptionist calls. She stands and gestures for me to follow her down a marble-floored hallway. Trailing behind her, I pass a row of empty offices until I finally spot a young woman hunched over a phone, taking furious notes on the legal pad in front of her. It must be a big vacation week at Camden & Associates.
The receptionist pauses in front of an office with one wall that’s nothing but windows, showing off a view of Gull Cove Harbor. She gestures for me to enter, and I step through the doorway. “Milly,