Page 79 of Little Buried Secrets

“I have. He has no idea what Margot meant in her note.”

The waiter brought Sean and Meredith’s drinks, and I glanced at Giovanni, indicating now was a good time to make a move.

“It was nice to meet you both,” Giovanni said. “We need to be going.”

“Sure,” Sean said. “Thanks for your time.”

“Yes, thank you,” Meredith said. “If there’s anything we can do to help, Georgiana, you be sure to let us know.”

We stood, and I had the urge to get one last comment in before we walked away.

“Margot may not have gotten the chance to tell her secret before she died, but I have no doubt I will figure it out,” I said. “When I do, I believe I’ll know who killed her and why.”

CHAPTER 31

It had been a couple of hours since my run-in with Sebastian’s parents, and I imagined Meredith had speed-dialed all her friends by now to dish out the news I’d given her.

I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things for a cheese board I was bringing to tonight’s dinner. As I left the store, I saw Sebastian sitting in his truck in the parking lot. I walked over, using my knuckle to tap on the driver’s-side window. The gesture startled him, and he dropped the cell phone he’d been staring at on the floor. He leaned down to pick it up from the floorboard, then rolled his window down.

“You know, I’m starting to feel like you’re following me,” I said. “Seems like wherever I go, here you are.”

He wasn’t amused by my comment.

“I could say the same thing about you,” he said. “It’s not like I knew you were going to be here. I’m waiting for Bronte. She’s inside, grabbing a few things for her mom.”

It was a small store, and I hadn’t seen her.

“I saw your parents earlier today,” I said.

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. My mom texted me. Why did you tell her about the note?”

“No offense, but when it comes to spreading news around town, your mother excels at it. I figured I’d mention the note and see what happens when it gets people talking. Who knows? Maybe someone will come forward with new information and tell me something I don’t already know.”

“If someone knows Margot’s secret, wouldn’t they have spoken up by now?”

“I wish it worked that way, but most of the time, it doesn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“It takes a lot of prodding to get people to open up at times, even when they know it’s the right thing to do,” I said. “Take you, for example.”

“What about me?”

“You didn’t open up to me right away, and I’m convinced there are things you still haven’t told me. It’s not a judgment; it’s an observation. You’re a private person. I am too. It’s not always easy to talk about your life or to answer hard questions with someone you don’t know.”

He glanced out the window. “I’ve never been good at … you know, talking to most people. Or my parents.”

“I get it, believe me. Your parents asked me about you because they know I’ve seen you a few times. They’re concerned about how you’re doing.”

“I’ve told them a hundred times, I’m fine. I wish they’d stop asking.”

He may have said he was fine, but he bit down on his lip when he said it, and his eyes began to water.

“Are you fine?” I asked.

Another pause, and then, “No … I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to talk about her. It’s too hard.”

He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve, clearing his throat several times as he tried to regain control of his emotions. It made me feel awful, like I’d added to his pain somehow.

---