Page 23 of Slow Burn Summer

Liv reached for her phone and took snaps from every angle.

“For your social media,” she said.

Kate Darrowby was now set up on all social media platforms, her official author photo at the top, a scattering of posts from the last few weeks filling out her new persona. A selfie in the cab on the way to lunch with the publishing team, the book cover reveal using the photo Charlie had taken of her clutching it at the Gothic ruins, a mini unboxing video of the finished copies, a vase of pink roses she’d bought because they were the exact color of the petals on the book. It felt a little like painting a picture, adding background colors to enhance the main focus—the book. She’d been hired to give this beautiful story oxygen through social media collages and online interviews, and so far it was all going to plan. The dress was Liv’s idea, a gift from sister to sister, a just-in-case-you-need-to-go-somewhere-fabulous dress.

“Not sure which shoes,” Kate said, stepping into one strappy sandal and one patent heel.

“Go with the one on the left, it makes your ankle look slimmer.”

Kate and Liv turned in unison at the sound of the unsolicited male advice and found Richard lounging in the open doorway.

“Her ankles are none of your business,” Liv snapped, then pointed at the step. “No farther.”

“It’s fine,” Kate said, even though the sight of her ex-husband had tarnished what had so far been an excellent day. “What are you doing here?”

“I was passing,” he said, earning himself a derisory snortfrom them both. “You were in my house,” he said. “And you.” He shot daggers at Liv, who lifted her chin in challenge.

There had always been a veiled underscore of tension between Liv and Richard, an unspoken sense of “I’m watching you” that had burst out in the open since the divorce.

“Lois told me,” he said.

Kate rolled her eyes internally. Of course Lois told him. Her old neighbor had no doubt studied her spy cameras and zoomed in to take photos as evidence to present her case to Richard, probably with a bottle of Chablis and a cheese board to share while she filled him in.

“And?” she said, choosing not to deny it.

“I could have you arrested for breaking and entering,” he said.

Kate started to sweat inside the silk dress, imagining how bad the optics would be for Kate Darrowby, how loud Fiona’s rage would be.

“And I could have you arrested for being the biggest twat in England,” Liv said. It made no actual sense, but Richard’s cheek twitched all the same.

Kate watched him, seeing Alice in his blue eyes, remembering better days. They’d been happy once upon a time. Or so she’d thought, anyway.

“I just wanted a few things I’d left behind,” she said.

“You could have asked,” he said.

“You were out of the country,” she said.

“And you’d have said no anyway, because you can’t help being a massive dick,” Liv said.

“Liv,” Kate said. “Can you give us a minute?”

Liv shrugged as she glared at Richard and wandered away toward the back of the shop. “I’ll go and sort the Roman costume stand out.”

Richard waited until she was out of earshot and then turned to Kate.

“Have you heard from Alice lately?”

Kate narrowed her eyes. “Of course, why?” In truth she’d been having trouble catching Alice for a proper chat in recent weeks, she was always off somewhere or between lectures. Kate had become all too familiar with Alice’s voicemail message, and usually received a flurry of chatty texts as a reply rather than an actual call. She missed hearing her daughter’s voice, but had tried to tell herself it was all part and parcel of letting Alice grow up and find her feet away from home.

“Just something she said to Bel last night,” he said.

Kate frowned. “What something?”

“She’s met an Australian guy up there.”

How could Richard possibly know this first? And why would Alice choose to confide in Belinda rather than her own mother? It wounded her, as Richard no doubt knew it would.

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