The Unkindest Cut - By Honor Hartman Page 0,49

was a designer dress she was wearing— Vera Wang, if I’m not mistaken.’’

Sophie hooted with laughter. ‘‘Emma, I don’t believe it. You’re right. Since when do you know how to recognize designer work?’’

‘‘Maybe because you keep rubbing my nose in the fact that I’m illiterate when it comes to haute couture, ’’ I said. ‘‘I’ve been trying to learn a bit about it so you can’t be so superior all the time.’’ I grinned at her, and she stuck her tongue out at me.

Marylou was laughing, and Sophie and I began to chuckle as well. When we stopped, Marylou said, ‘‘I think y’all are right. Lorraine is too shrewd not to know about the money. She lied to us about that.’’

‘‘The question is, why?’’ I said. ‘‘She didn’t have to tell us any of that, but she did. Why was she so coy about that one thing?’’

‘‘Because the truth about it might reveal that she had a good motive to kill Avery,’’ Sophie said.

I nodded. ‘‘That’s what I was thinking. But of course we could never get her to admit that.’’ I pushed back from the table. ‘‘I don’t know about you two, but I need to do something to clear my head a little. The weather is nice today, and I thought I might take a walk around the grounds. Why don’t you come with me?’’ I looked to each of them in turn.

Sophie rolled her eyes at me.

‘‘Well, it was worth a shot,’’ I said. ‘‘I should have known the mention of exercise would put you off. So what are you going to do?’’

‘‘Play some more bridge,’’ she said. ‘‘Marylou? Are you game?’’

Marylou nodded at her, then turned to me with a slightly sheepish grin. ‘‘Sorry, Emma.’’

‘‘It’s okay,’’ I said. ‘‘I’ll feel even more virtuous if you two stay here.’’ I waggled my fingers at them before I turned and headed for the door of the ballroom.

I could have stayed and played bridge with them, but I really wanted to get away from everything and everyone for a little while. I loved my friends dearly, but every once in a while, we each needed time on our own. I certainly could use the exercise as well, I noted ruefully as I glanced down at my waistline.

Once I reached the veranda at the front of the hotel, I stood there for a few moments, shading my eyes against the bright sunlight. I had a small handbag with me, and I looked inside it to see whether I had stuck my sunglasses in it.

Ah, there they were. I slipped them on, and my eyes felt better immediately. Now I could leave the veranda and walk around in the sun.

There were several marked paths, and I started following one that seemed to lead in the direction of the woods, not too far away. I thought it might be pleasant to wander among the trees for a little while, so I quickened my pace slightly now that I had a specific goal.

Looking ahead, I spotted a bench near the path, about halfway between me and the trees. The bench was occupied by one person, a man with his back to me. Something about the back of the figure seemed familiar, but I couldn’t determine why. While I stared at the man’s back, willing him to turn so I could see his face, I saw instead the smoke of a cigarette spiraling over his head.

Finally, when I was about only a dozen or so feet away, I recognized the man. Or perhaps I should say ‘‘the boy.’’ It was Will Trowbridge. He might be almost twenty-one, but he seemed more like a boy to me.

Hearing my approach, Will turned a slightly sullen face in my direction. He took another drag on his cigarette, exhaling smoke, before he turned away again.

I know I should have minded my own business, but there was something in his posture that affected me. He seemed so forlorn, and yet defiant, at the same time. I decided to try to talk to him, if he would let me.

‘‘Hi, Will,’’ I said as I reached the bench. I stopped near him. ‘‘Do you mind if I sit down for a moment or two?’’

He shrugged. ‘‘Whatever.’’ He held up his cigarette. ‘‘This bother you?’’

‘‘No,’’ I said. ‘‘Go ahead.’’ I didn’t want to antagonize him, and fortunately there was a breeze to waft the smoke away from me.

My response elicited a brief smile, and I took that as encouragement.

‘‘You know, I can’t