Page 27 of Just Like That

Through the gloriously renovated home, I soaked in every detail. The doorway opened to a large mudroom at the back of the house. The floors were made of a weathered brick, and there was a bench just inside the door. There were hooks for hanging jackets and beautifully painted cabinets. It amazed me that no amount of television or pictures could truly show the craftsmanship of the house.

In the floor, a trapdoor was propped open. We walked to the edge and I peered in. Voices and jazzy music floated up the stairs.

“Pretty cool, right?” Sylvie could practically read my mind. “When Kate and Beckett were renovating this place for Tootie, they found it. We don’t know how long it had been forgotten, but it’s strange to think it had been there all the time.”

In awe, I followed Sylvie down. Sconces illuminated the path downstairs, and though the stairwell was narrow, it opened to a large space beneath the house. A huge oak bar was along one wall. An ornate mirror was behind the bar, and several framed photographs were beside it.

Teddy and Penny were sipping fizzy drinks with maraschino cherries while Duke propped Gus higher on his hip. At one of the stools, Lark smiled at the man mixing drinks behind the bar.

She turned to me. “Glad you could make it!” She gestured to the man who had held her attention. “Wyatt is mixing up bourbon lemonades if you want one. Regular lemonade for us lightweights.” She ran a hand over her belly with a laugh.

I stepped forward. “I guess I’ll try the bourbon one.”

“Coming up.” Wyatt smiled and started mixing. I turned in a circle to take in the speakeasy. Beneath the earth, it should have felt cramped and dingy, but instead it was rustic and spacious. In my bones, I could feel the presence of everyone who’d come before me. It was a place steeped in history, where secrets were whispered and plans were conspired.

I leaned in to look at the framed photographs on the wall. One in particular caught my eye. It was a picture of two men and a woman. All three were smiling and dressed to the nines in clothes that reminded me of the 1920s. The two men wore dark pants and dress shoes. One had on a dark tie, loosened at the neck, while the other wore a light, collared knit shirt with the top two buttons undone. The woman was in a dainty floral print dress and heels. Her hands were on her hips, and she was captured mid-laugh.

Lark sighed next to me. “I love that photograph.”

“Who were they?” I asked. My eyes were pinned to the man on the right. If you squinted hard enough, he’d be a dead ringer for JP.

“That’s Philo Sullivan, Helen Sinclair, and James King.” When I glanced at her, Lark’s eyebrows waggled. “They were all bootleggers together. Philo and Helen married and left the business. James took it hard, and he teamed up with Helen’s brother to stir up trouble.”

“More than trouble,” Wyatt scoffed as he slid a drink in front of me.

I picked it up and saluted him in thanks before taking a tiny sip. It was sweet and tart with just the right amount of kick from the bourbon.

Wyatt wiped down the bar top. “A long-standing feud. Years andyearsof Sullivans and Kings being rivals.”

“And it started with these three?” I asked, utterly intrigued.

“It’s where it started,” Sylvie said as she climbed onto a stool next to Lark. She lifted a shoulder. “But, unfortunately, my dad made it infinitely worse.”

Duke clamped a hand at the base of her neck in a show of affection and solemn support. He gazed down at his wife. “But it ended with us.”

Pride and love were evident in his voice. Poets could write epic tomes based on how Duke looked at his wife, and they still wouldn’t measure up. A lump formed in my throat.

“And now look at us.” Lark raised her lemonade. “Sullivans and Kings celebrating the end of summer with a barbecue and babies. Speaking of Kings”—Lark looked at me—“did JP decide not to show?”

My mouth opened and closed.

Was I supposed to know? Did parking in his driveway and accidentally kissing him mean I was supposed to keep tabs on him?

Sylvie snorted. “Oh, I doubt he’ll come. JP doesn’t really do family.”

My brows scrunched. “What do you mean he doesn’tdofamily?”

Sylvie’s smile slowly melted. She swallowed and tried to smooth things over. “Well”—she gestured toward Teddy, who was giggling with Penny—“maybe things have changed.”

My molars pressed together, and I swallowed past the burn in my throat.

Even his siblings didn’t think very highly of him.

Fantastic.

An awkward silence yawned and filled the room.

A nervous laugh tittered from my throat as I suddenly felt like a fool for accepting Lark’s invitation. “The speakeasy really is very cool. You’d never know something with so much character was down here.”

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