files each contained.
The door swung shut, enclosing me in silence—the complete opposite of the noise, music, and chatter on the A and R floor.
I opened the first drawer and pulled a stack out.
Like he said, I better get started.
VALENTINA
“How do you want to do this?” Sofia asked. “We can’t just call a bunch of strangers and pelt them with questions on who dropped out of their year.”
“We’ll be subtler than that, Sof. Trust me.”
The two of us were in her bedroom. The event details I planned to show Kessler covered her sheets and we sat in the middle of the chaos, scanning the list of names, numbers, and addresses Mrs. Dove emailed.
“Piper Davenport,” Sofia read. “She must be Blair’s mom. Blair told us she was president of the Sallys. Mrs. Davenport would know everyone who left under her reign.”
“Let’s save her for last. We know two presidents who are up to their necks in the shady stuff going down in the houses. No offense to Piper Davenport—who could be perfectly decent. We’ll stick to the regular brothers and sisters for now.”
She handed me her phone. “Show me how it’s done.”
“Will do.” The list of alumni was sorted by the years they graduated. In the thirty-six years since the Sams and Sallys were founded, they racked up about two thousand graduates. I didn’t need to talk to all of them. Just a few brothers and sisters dropping a few names, and we’d be off to a real start.
I chose Nora Holmes and dialed her number.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hello, Mrs. Holmes. This is Valentina Moon, the current president of Zeta Rho Sigma.”
“Oh, hi.” Her hesitation fled under a cheerier greeting. “What can I do for you?”
“I apologize for cold-calling you like this. I’m planning an alumni charity event in December and I thought I’d see how much interest there is before sending out two thousand invitations.”
She laughed with me. Good.
The first step is charming them if I’ve learned anything from Ezra.
“The event would be held in the Evergreen Country Club. It’s a dinner and charity auction. We will bid on prizes, gift cards, and getaways sponsored by local businesses. All proceeds will be donated to the food bank.”
“That sounds nice.”
“If you’d like to sponsor a prize too, I’m giving all the alumni the option.”
“My company makes organic jams and jellies,” she offered. “I’d be happy to offer a basket.”
“Awesome.”
“What day is the party?” she asked.
“I’m shooting for December twelfth, Saturday. Not too close to Christmas, but close enough for plenty of eggnog.”
She laughed again. “December twelfth works for me. I am definitely interested.”
“Great. I will send the invitation this week. Along with the information for your donation.”
“Thank you so much, Valentina.”
“Before you go,” I threw in, heading off her goodbye. “Would you happen to have the email address for Emma Johnson?”
“Who?”
“Emma Johnson,” I repeated. “One of your sisters. She dropped out of the Sallys and the university while you were there.”
“Dropped out of the— Oh! Do you mean Miriam Brown? She dropped out in our junior year. Family emergency. I’m pretty sure she was the only one.”
“Yes, of course.” I mouthed to Sofia, telling her to grab her pen. “Miriam Brown. Sorry, I read the wrong name.”
“Why are you asking about Miriam?”
“I’m inviting all of the Sallys and Sams to the event,” I explained. “I’m thinking of it like a networking opportunity, and also a reunion. And even those who were forced to leave the house due to difficult circumstances should be invited. Once a sister, always a sister, right?”
“Absolutely. Poor Miriam’s mother died in the middle of the year. She didn’t leave a number or email for us to contact her. I’d love to see her again and find out how she’s doing after all these years.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Holmes. Have a nice evening.”
She said the same and I ended the call, smirking at Sofia’s clapping.
“Impressive,” she said.
“That’s how it’s done. People love to correct you. Throw out a fake dropout and they’ll be quick with the real one.” I tapped her notebook. “Miriam Brown supposedly left because her mom passed away. We have the year she would’ve graduated and therefore how old she is. Hopefully that’s enough for Maverick to dig up something on what truly happened to her.”
“How many people are we going to call?”
“Focus on the alumni who graduated after 2006.”
She nodded. Taking up her laptop, she moved to the bay window, so we couldn’t talk over each other. For two straight hours, we called former Sallys and Sams