Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,44

had discovered her mother’s old book club journal.

She remembered those racy books with the glamorous women on the covers, with their big eighties hair and bright makeup. But more, she remembered Vivian in her prime, holding court on the veranda, surrounded by her friends, delighting in the fictional misadventures in the pages of the novels.

“Mom?”

Leah looked over the ledge of the landing to see Sadie.

“What are you doing here so late?” Leah said.

“What are you doing here so late?” Sadie closed the door behind her.

“I can’t sleep,” Leah said. “I need something to read.”

Sadie climbed the stairs, holding a copy of Lace. She slipped it back onto the “C” shelf.

“You finished it?” Leah said.

Sadie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. All six hundred pages. I wish I could read what Gran wrote about it. Did she ever mention the book club journal to you? She must have it. It couldn’t have just disappeared.”

“She didn’t mention it to me,” Leah said. “It’s possible Peternelle just packed it up along with your book. You could just ask her what she thought about it.”

“Um, no. The last thing I want is to talk about Gran’s hot take on all the sex. I just thought reading the discussion notes might be interesting. From a sociological perspective, of course.”

“Of course,” Leah said, smiling. “You should get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. I’m going to try.” She kissed Leah on the cheek. “‘Night, Mom.”

Leah waited until her daughter left, then turned back to the shelf where she’d placed Lace. She thought she’d spotted something.

She pulled out another thick novel, the cover featuring a beautiful brunette, dressed in a black evening gown, her dark eyes staring directly into the camera lens. Above her head, in big gold embossed letters, the title: Chances.

With a thrilling sense of anticipation, Leah tucked the Jackie Collins novel under her arm and headed back to her bedroom.

Twenty-two

The vintage black Jaguar was arguably a ridiculous car. It was not something Sadie would ever dream of driving in New York City or even up at school. But it was what she found available in her grandparents’ garage. And it made her feel like one of the characters in Lace.

Sadie needed some space. A three-hundred-guest wedding had taken over the winery, and she didn’t want to spend another day holed up in the house worrying about her paper. A quick search on her phone suggested a restaurant in Southold called the Fish Market.

She felt strange behind the wheel, as if she were playing a role in a film from a glamorous bygone era. It was a moment of absurdity she would have liked to have shared with Holden.

Holden. Another reason to get on the road, distract herself. Every time she looked at her phone or computer, she couldn’t help stalking him on social media.

She turned left off the property onto Main Road. Peconic Bay Boulevard ran parallel to it, and she’d overheard winery guests saying the other day that it was the smarter route to take when a little tipsy. Sadie knew her grandmother would have a fit if she’d heard that; they were very careful not to let guests drink and drive.

Sadie took a detour on Indian Neck Lane to see the water. She didn’t get out of the car, but just turned off the engine and stared out at the Peconic. On a whim, she reached for her phone, and this time instead of taking the easy way out with a text, she dialed. The phone rang and rang, and she could imagine Holden looking at the incoming call, debating whether to answer, his fair brows knit together with irritation.

The call went to voicemail.

Sadie tossed her phone back into her bag. So much for that.

The Southold Fish Market was a simple clapboard building across the road from the water. The outdoor tables were full. Inside, walls were lined with chalkboard menus of the day’s shellfish and whole fish, and ice-packed fish was on display throughout the room. She ordered fish and chips and paid for it at the counter.

“We’ll call your number, hon,” the cashier said.

A couple cleared a table just in time for Sadie to take their spot, a window seat. She checked her phone, still hoping for a response. Nothing. Before she could get worked up about that, she noticed Mateo Argueta across the room.

He was deep in conversation with an older man whose back was facing Sadie. She tried not to stare, but she’d found herself thinking about Mateo, hoping she’d run into him during