George has terrible breath, like stale cigar smoke and pickles. I’m standing next to him, and I’m dying.

“I told your momma that she shouldn’t take any spam callers. I told her what we said all along. If she tries to contact you, I’ll take her house and everything she owns,” he says. His voice has lost all the southern charm he used when Kate and crew were in my office. “I suspect she’ll listen.”

“I guess you can go then. I’m all set here.” I smile and extend my hand. “Thanks again for everything. Bill me. I’ll be in touch if I need you.”

“This isn’t over, sugar. That woman isn’t going to just give up. She’s not as easy to control as your momma. And from the sound of it, neither is her daughter.” George shakes his head.

I lower my voice. “Look, I’m a step ahead of Kate. Just go. I need to look like I’m standing on my own two feet here, so you lurking around isn’t helping. Stay away unless I call you. Get it?”

“Sure. Got it,” George says. “You’re going to need me. Be in touch, sugar.”

George pushes on the glass door, and I watch him descend the stairs. I hope everything is as he promises. I don’t want to need him again.

Because the thing is, some people stick around unless you force them to go away. Maybe Kate feels that way about me, like she was finally finished with me after the funeral and then poof, I appear in John’s office. But you see, this isn’t really about Kate, not really. I’ve already won the Kate versus Tish match. No, this is about me. My needs. So I’ll stick around long enough for all of my stock shares to vest. Long enough to feel what it’s like to be a big-time executive. If I like it, I’ll stay for good. Power is sexy.

And besides, it’s nice here. Not the work part, but the dressing up and coming to a spacious office and being the president part. That I think I will like very much.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass door. Not bad. In the mirror’s reflection I see stupid Sandra is sitting on the atrium couch, and she’s still watching me. Whatever. Enjoy the view, Sandra.

I wish I had someone to go to lunch with. That’s what executives like me do at this time of day.

Behind Sandra, handsome Lance walks into the lobby. I wonder if he’s single. His dark skin glows against a white button-down and jeans. I’ve never dated a bald guy.

“Hey, Lance,” I say as I hurry into the atrium.

He sees me, and his face falls into a frown. “Why are you here? What are you trying to do?”

“I’d love to take you to lunch. Discuss the future. Explain everything. How about it?”

“What? No. I have plans,” he stammers.

Weenie.

I ignore him and walk out the door. The adrenaline rush has subsided, and I’m beyond exhausted. But I need to keep up my charm today. Maybe I’ll go home for lunch, get a little rest, and then come back. That way, I can avoid Sandra’s never-ending stare. She’s been perched like a bird of prey watching me. And if I leave, I’ll look important. I have places to go, things to do.

In the parking lot, I see Ashlyn. What a surprise. She’s standing next to her car just two spots down. “Hey, Ash.”

Her eyes bulge as she shakes her head and slides into her car, slamming the door. I hear the sound of her lock, too. Of course the spoiled brat drives a BMW, white, fully decked out. She crashed her first BMW at school, so we got her a brand-new one. Because that’s what rich people do.

I walk fast, but before I can reach her, she backs out of the parking spot. She stops a few feet away from me. Her driver’s side window glides down.

“Tell me what you did to my dad. Did you put something in those margaritas? Maybe the same thing you used to get rid of your stepdad?”

“What? What margaritas?” How would Ashlyn know about the margaritas I made in Telluride? I know how she knows about Ralph. My stupid momma.

“Dad’s last night. You made him a big pitcher. He sent me a picture,” she says from the comfort of her car.

She’s lying. He didn’t talk to her that night, did he? “What else did he tell you?”

“Plenty,” she says. “I think I should call the police. I have enough to get them interested in you at the very least. A suspicious death in Kentucky, and now one in Telluride. I know you’re hiding something. Maybe a lot of somethings.” The window slides up, and she drives away.

Ungrateful bitch. She’s acting like she has evidence of something. “Come back here,” I say to her taillights.

I hop in my car and drive home on the side streets. I’m not following Ashlyn, of course, that would be weird. But I am taking a path that would lead me past her house. Kate’s house. I see her car up ahead. She called my mother, and she keeps threatening me. Digging around in other people’s business isn’t healthy. In fact, it can be dangerous.

As we pass the country club entrance, dread runs through me. I’m not a country club kid, as you’ve likely realized. Ashlyn is the definition of one.

I push the accelerator and pull up next to her at the stop sign.

She looks like she’s seeing a monster, but it’s just me.

I wave as she floors it.

Such a scaredy-cat. She needs to be taught a lesson, and fast. As I follow her, I call Uncle George.

When he answers I say, “We’ve got another little problem. You haven’t left the city yet, have you?”

“I knew you’d need me, sugar. Let me turn around at the next exit,” George says.

“I guess I do need you for at least a little while longer,” I say. “It’s Ashlyn. She’s out of control.”

“Of course she is. She’s cut out of the will, her dad’s dead, and she’s got you for a stepmother.” George laughs as he talks. “What do you need me to do, sugar?”

CHAPTER 39

ASHLYN

My hands shake as I call Seth.

“She’s freaking me out. She’s following me. Can I come over?”

“Sure, come now,” he says. “I’m worried about you.”

“Be there in five minutes.” I try to think about my next move. Would the police even take me seriously with only a hunch and the photo my dad texted to my mom? There’s just something about how sloppy drunk Dad was in the photo that doesn’t make sense. He wasn’t like that. He’d just launched the biggest deal in his life. That is not how he would celebrate.

Before he’d started drinking that night, he’d called me from the lobby of our Telluride condo building of all places. He told me a lot, but especially that he and Tish had another fight and it was over. He was deciding whether to leave Telluride that evening or stick it out one more night. He told me he loved me and that we’d be together as a family again soon. He decided not to bother the pilots and said that he’d be home the next day. When the elevator arrived, we said goodbye. He sounded sad, but otherwise fine when he called me.

Whatever she gave him once he got to the condo, it hit him hard. I stare at the awful photo. His eyes are half-open, his face blotchy and swollen. It’s clear he’s sick. She had to know it. She had to be the one who did it.

I stop in front of Seth’s parents’ house and check the rearview mirror. No Tish, at least not at the moment. I open my car door and step onto the street. I turn around in time to see her driving straight toward me. I freeze, waiting for impact. I see my life flash in front of me, my mom, my dad, Seth. I can’t breathe, and I hear a piercing scream that must be my own. I lock eyes with Tish, and she swerves away from me and screeches down the street.

She’s gone.

A voice in my head tells me to move. I run up the front walk and try the door. It’s locked. My heart races as I push the doorbell repeatedly and bang on the door.

“Hey, it’s OK. Calm down,” Seth says, pulling the door open. I fall into his strong chest as he closes the door. “What’s wrong? What happened? You’re shaking all over.”

“She’s after me,” I say as my teeth clatter. My breath is shaky, and I’m dizzy. “I’ve stirred her up. That means I’m onto something.”

“Slow down. Who is after you?”

“Tish,” I say.

“Whoa. Let’s go sit down. Start from the beginning.” He pulls me inside and locks the door before taking my hand and leading me down the hall to the kitchen.

“I called Tish’s mom. In Kentucky. She told me her daughter is dangerous, that she may have killed someone.”

“What? That’s scary. What kind of mom says that to a stranger?” Seth asks, pulling out a chair for me at the kitchen table. “I take it they aren’t close.”

“No, it sounds like they hate each other. It was eerie, talking to her. And then, when I told Tish I talked to her mom, she freaked. I’ve hit a nerve, that’s for sure,” I say.

“Take some deep breaths. You’re covered in sweat. Let me get you some water,” he says.

“Sure.” I try to calm down, but my body is on high alert, like I dodged a bullet but another is heading in my direction, and I can’t see it.