hello,” Donald Camden says. He gets up from behind a black desk with such a high-gloss finish that I can see my reflection when I lean forward to shake his hand. The entire office is decorated in black, white, and chrome, including the futuristic-looking desk chair that Donald settles back into once I’m sitting across from him. “How wonderful to see you again.”
“You too.”
“Thank you, Miranda,” Donald tells the receptionist, who leaves without a word, shutting the door noiselessly behind her. My eyes stray to the large, silver-framed photo on the corner of Donald’s desk, expecting to see a bunch of artfully posed blond grandchildren. Instead, it’s a picture of Donald, Dr. Baxter, and Theresa Ryan, all dressed in formal wear, standing on what looks like the sweeping marble staircase at Gull Cove Resort.
My grandmother’s surrogate family, I think, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s a nice picture. Is it from the Summer Gala?”
“Yes, last year,” Donald says, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. The sun streams through the window behind him, glinting off his gold cuff links. “I was so pleased to hear you’re reconsidering my job offer, Milly. What else can I tell you about the opportunity?”
Hell if I know. I didn’t come here with much of a plan beyond getting in the same room as Mildred’s favorite guard dog, to see whether he’d let something interesting slip. Or whether I could pry it out of him. “I was curious about, um, what kind of work your friend’s firm is doing for the movie? Because I’m interested in law as a career. I thought maybe I could help on that end of things.”
An indulgent expression crosses his face. “I’m afraid their legal work is very specialized, and also very dry. A young lady like you wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”
Ugh, what a condescending jerk. I know plenty about specialized legal work from my dad’s practice. But Donald seems like the type who might let his guard down if you encourage him to play the expert, so I ask, “Is it, like, contract stuff?”
Donald launches into a long-winded explanation that I only half listen to, because I don’t actually care. Yesterday’s conversation with Hazel left me seriously shook. Last night I kept tossing and turning, sickened by the perverted rumors about my mother floating around Gull Cove Island, unchecked by the people who know what really happened.
Including this guy, who’s willing to pay a small fortune to get rid of us.
“That’s so interesting,” I say brightly when Donald finally stops for a breath. “It sounds like a great opportunity. I’m just torn because, you know…” I bite my lip. “I was excited at the chance to get to know my grandmother. I’ve never understood what happened between her and my mom. If I did, it would be much easier to leave.”
“Milly.” Donald shakes his head. “This is exactly the sort of conversation you shouldn’t be having with your grandmother. It will upset her and threaten her fragile health.”
“That’s why I’m not asking her. I’m asking you.” I deliver the words with as much wide-eyed innocence as I can muster, then add a little flattery. “Mrs. Ryan speaks so highly of you.”
Theresa Ryan hasn’t said a word to me beyond emailing instructions about brunch, but Donald doesn’t need to know that. “How kind of her,” he says, but there’s a reserve to his response that I can’t quite read.
“I didn’t tell her I was coming here,” I say, in case that’s his concern. “And I wouldn’t tell my grandmother, either. She’d never have to know we talked about this.”
Donald sits straighter in his chair, frowning, and I realize I went too far with that last line. “I would never violate your grandmother’s confidence, Milly. It’s not only morally wrong but also illegal. I am her counsel, after all.”
“Okay, but…” I keep my fake smile firmly in place and take another tack, even though I know I’m losing him. “But couldn’t you suggest that she talk to us about what happened? Clear the air? Maybe she’d be healthier, and happier, if everything was out in the open.”
Donald regards me steadily. “Milly, will you take a word of advice from an old man?”
Definitely not. “Of course.”
“Leave the past where it is. You and your cousins seem wonderfully well-adjusted—which was not, to be frank, the case with your parents when they were your age. There’s nothing to be gained from reopening old wounds, and a lot to lose.” He