Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
It took effort not to drop my eyes to her abdomen. “You obviously got the keys to the locked doors at some point,” I said, still queasy about the idea that there might be a hidden way into my bedroom; I knew what I’d be doing tonight, and that was checking every wall and cupboard for concealed doors.
“Not all of them. Beatrice . . .” Darcie stared at the crackling flames. “We found the keys after our parents’ accident, made a copy so that we’d both have access to all of the house.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I never found her set. She was possessive of them even though we rarely came here, used to tell me that hiding the keys in a secret spot was her homage to the man who designed the house—Blake Shepherd.”
I ran my hand down her back even as a small part of me hungered to discover this lost piece of Beatrice. I’d known her better than anyone; if I put my mind to it, I was certain I could unearth her keys. Because I didn’t think she’d have taken them from this house.
Bea’s sense of mischief wouldn’t have seen the fun in that.
Darcie twisted her hands together, the movement of her throat convulsive.
Reminded all over again that no matter their problems, they’d been sisters first and foremost, I made a conscious effort to change the subject. “How’s your head?”
It took her several long breaths to reply and when she did, it was with a shaky smile. “Those pills V gave me are magic. Dull thud at the back of my head, but that’s about it.”
She looked longingly at the tumbler half-full of sparkling clear liquid on the coffee table by Grace, who sat cross-legged on the floor with a small bowl of pistachios, chatting away to Kaea. “I could murder a vodka on the rocks, but Nix told me that alcohol is definitely not a good idea with a head wound.”
“Don’t worry—it won’t ruin your night.” I sank back into the sofa, wondering if Darcie had forgotten her pregnancy for a moment, or if she was just saying the words to make conversation. “Remember that weekend we got stuck in that disastrously ‘rustic’ cabin Kaea hired out in the middle of nowhere? When Aaron forgot the cooler with the beers and I dropped the only bottle of wine on the floor?” It had ended up one of my favorite trips ever, even with all of us stone-cold sober.
“Oh my God, that trip!” Her laughter drew the attention of the others, and of course everyone wanted to know what we were on about.
The walk down memory lane was bittersweet.
Because there was no Bea to giggle with me about how the two of us had woken in the night with the urge to use the bathroom and, dressed only in our sleep T-shirts, had tiptoed to the tiny wood-paneled room using a flashlight—only to exit screaming when we found not one but three giant wētā sitting on the seat, antennae twitching.
Later, after the screams had turned into laughter, she’d said, “I know they’re harmless, but seriously, they look like bugs straight out of the prehistoric era. I swear that first one was the size of my hand!”
But there was no laughter now.
As there was no Bea to remind me to “Have fun, Nae-nae. We only live once. Unless we’re zombies, then we live once and shamble the second time around.”
Opening one of the old wines that Darcie had told me meant nothing to her, I made a silent toast to our missing friend. Miss you, Bee-bee. Hope you’re not a zombie.
Her ghostly laughter was pure delight in my head. Because Bea, my Bea, had always had a sense of humor that could be silly and sharp and wicked all at once.
* * *
—
It wasn’t until we were about to head to bed, and the others—sans Darcie, who was already upstairs—had gone to clean up the kitchen, while I tidied the lounge, collecting any stray glasses and plates, that Kaea said, “Don’t you think that was weird?” A low whisper. “The way Nix immediately put it into her head that it was all an accident—even after what she said when she first woke up?”
“I figured he was doing the doctor thing—you know, trying to calm her down.” I stood up with a glass in one hand and a couple of small bowls in the other. Pistachio shells filled both of the latter.
Kaea made a face. “I suppose. But she sure looked certain when she woke up and said that someone had hit her on the back of the head.”
“Well, the one person we know couldn’t have done it is you.” I widened my eyes at him. “Can you say the same about me?” I added “dum, dum, dum” music in my most dramatic tones.