Page 71 of Happily Never After

“Thanks for the doom and gloom.” Charlie raised her eyebrows and dropped her fork. “I promise I’ll text you as soon as I think of someone.”

Claire leaned forward. “Good. I think the leader is here too.”

Brianna drained her ice water. “What makes you say that?”

“West Haven getting shut down spooked them. They’re closing ranks, pulling down all the information on the branches from the internet. It can’t be a coincidence that Dr. Taylor came here. I’d bet anything the higher-ups are here. Maybe even Hollywood elite.” She glanced around the restaurant, half-expecting to see a B-lister in a Greek letter T-shirt.

Charlie leaned forward and stared her down. “Don’t go snooping, Claire. Leave it to the professionals.”

“I won’t.” Claire crossed her arms. She was totally going to. A plan was already half-formed.

Claire’s phone beeped—Mindy was outside.

Claire’s stomach clenched. Lunch had already gone longer than she intended—to be honest, she had fully expected Charlie to storm out and refuse to eat at all. She needed to get back toBrad and billable hours. The proposal was crawling closer by the second.

“Guys, I have to get going.” Claire dug cash out of her wallet and tossed it on the table. “Thank you so much for having lunch with me. I hope we can do it again before I leave.”

“Yeah, we’ll do it,” Charlie said begrudgingly, standing to hug her. “I’m going to stay for a few more minutes.”

“Me too,” Brianna said, also hugging Claire. “So, Charlie,” Bri continued as Claire walked away, “you’re probably burned out from Hollywood bullshit, but I wanted to invite you and Bill and Ryan to my upcoming premiere.”

Claire hurried outside. Even with the mounting stress of Brad’s proposal and an increasingly ballsy ESA, her heart was lighter than it had been an hour ago. Things were falling into place. Her sisters were finally on speaking terms. In less than two-and-a-half weeks, Brad’s proposal would be over, and it would be so beautiful and romantic and over-the-top that they’d be showered in big budget requests.

Happily Ever Afters would be a bicoastal business (well, as soon as they hired someone to help,) and they could return to West Haven in time to save Tender Hearts permanently. So what if there was a legion of serial killers after her? She would find them and stomp out every last one of them. Nothing could stop the power of true love.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

To Do:

- Buy Luke’s favorite kombucha

- Research LA parking laws—wtf?

- Find the professor

“So the florist had amazing news.”Mindy paused to straighten her wig in the car’s rearview mirror. “We are going to hit the very small window for peonies. They can do a mixture of blush and red for the arch at the proposal site. They’ll also throw in some cream for the table at the restaurant if we tag them on social media.”

“Perfect. One less thing for Brad to complain about.” Claire pressed a pair of binoculars to her sunglasses and leaned forward. They sat in the parking lot of a CVS, eyes glued to the entrance of the Whole Foods on Fairfax. Even though she had explicitly promised Luke not to get involved, ESA had almost kidnapped her mother. The chances of her staying out of it were less than zero.

In the twenty-four hours since her lunch with Brianna and Charlie, there had been no new developments with ESA. No threatening notes, no flowers. But it was only a matter of time, especially since their attempt to abduct Alice had been unsuccessful.

Jack’s current wife, Tanya, had been assigned her own cop. She was making use of the extra house guest by enlisting him to help her propagate succulents.

A strand of fake red hair fell across her view, and Claire blew on it until it moved. Two dozen people had come and gone from the store, but none of them were Professor Taylor.

“We’re never going to find him. What if he’s Googling himself and saw the Web Detectives post?”

“It is a long shot,” Nicole said. She was FaceTiming them from her studio. “Wait, is that a mustache? Zoom me in!”

Claire and Mindy practically plastered themselves against the windshield. Claire held her breath. Straw fedora, jet-black mustache. Could it be? A gust of wind blew his hat off. The man was bald, and a Nine Inch Nails tattoo took up most of the real estate on his head. Unless the professor had found a new, all-consuming appreciation for heavy metal, it couldn’t be him.

“Damn it.” Mindy pounded the dashboard.

“What? It’s not him?” Nicole’s voice came from the phone.

They both leaned back in their seats. “No, just some other fedora-wearing dingus,” Mindy said.

“Damn it. All right, I have to go. I have a family shoot and if I don’t eat an entire loaf of bread beforehand, I might throw up on a toddler.”

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