At Wits' End - Kenzie Reed Page 0,107

of it!” my father says. “Sienna’s fine. Look, she’s up, she’s jogging.” She’s fine.”

Brooke bolts to the finish line, greeted by loud jeers from the crowd. Two other women are right behind her. Cesare and my father release me, and the whole mob of us run over to surround Sienna, who looks near tears.

“I tried, honey!” she sniffles.

“You won, for God’s sake!” I hug her. She’s drenched in sweat. “You were in first place. I don’t care what the judges say, or what anyone says.”

Of course, everyone else saw what we saw. The judges quickly convene at the finish line stage, then announce that Brooke is permanently disqualified from the race. The winner is a nurse from Greenvale Hospital. Sienna is offered a consolation trophy, which she politely declines. Pamela’s bouncing on her heels, so mad that her husband has to keep a firm grip on her arm and her police chief brother keeps shooting her warning looks.

Fraser is nowhere in sight, the weasel.

“She cheated too! She trained in secret!” Brooke fumes at the judges. “And I know she’s taking steroids! She’s got the thighs of a gorilla.”

“Watch your mouth!” My mother storms forward. “How dare you speak of my daughter-in-law in that fashion!”

“Do you know what slander is, Trailer Park Barbie?” Pamela says to Brooke, ice dripping from every word. “Slander is saying that someone’s taking steroids when they aren’t. Slander is also expensive.”

“I know what your face is going to look like after I work it over with my fist.” Brooke starts towards Pamela.

“That’s it.” Chief Shaughnessy slaps cuffs on her and marches her away.

Has Brooke forgotten elementary school? Pamela mopped up the playground with Brooke’s face more than once, when she caught Brooke bullying first graders. The chief’s acting more for Brooke’s protection than he is Pamela’s.

Sienna scowls after her. “I actually am going to petition to remove the lifetime disqualification.”

“What? Why would you do that?” I ask, scowling as Brooke’s hustled into the back of a squad car.

“Because next year you and I are going to beat her ass in the couples’ relay. And I want to see the look on her face when she loses.” Sienna’s eyes gleam as she stares after the car.

A glow of pride and happiness warms me from within. “You are the best thing that ever happened to the world,” I whisper in her ear. “I am taking you home right now.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

SIENNA

This past weekend, I’ve taken a break from trying to dig up the dirt on Ferguson, because it’s been all hands on deck with the festival. I’m helping Aunt Fernanda run the Ribaldi Family Winery booth, the rest of the family is manning the Ribaldi Family Organic Cheese booth, the Witlockes have their booth, and we all try to be happy about the fact that sales are amazing.

It hangs heavy over our heads, though. We all feel like there’s something wrong with this potential deal, but we also know that there’s no legal way to get out of it.

We’re signing the paperwork September 8, which is tomorrow, and it’s a damned if we do, damned if we don’t situation.

As I work in the winery office, my phone rings, and I’m surprised to see that it’s Murray. “We have some things we need to clear up about this sale before you cause any more unnecessary grief,” he says. “I may be able to answer some of your questions.” His voice is raspy and hollow. I doubt he’s getting much sleep. He stands to lose as much as we do if the deal doesn’t go through.

“I can be there in two hours,” I tell him.

“Kind of needs to be now. I have a showing in two hours.”

With a sigh, I drive to his office.

He keeps me waiting for fifteen minutes. When he finally lets me in, I’m shocked at how pale and drawn he looks. His suit hangs off him, and not in a way that makes it look like he’s been dieting.

I sit down at the desk, across from him. There are papers scattered across the surface. His eyes are bloodshot, and the sour smell of coffee breath wafts my way.

He clears his throat and leans back in his chair, scowling and blinking at me.

“Well?” I say with annoyance. “Why am I here?”

“Here’s what I have to tell you.” He sits up straight and runs his fingers through thinning hair.

His nervousness is contagious; my stomach clenches in frustration. If only we had more time to look into these people.

“The president