Page 77 of The Women of Wild Hill
“A word?” Sibyl repeated.
“Just a quick word,” Brigid assured her before they hurried away.
“What the hell!” Phoebe exclaimed. “Rudeness!”
“Oh, come on,” Sibyl told her. “Surely you’ve been to parties before. You don’t need Brigid to hold your hand.”
“She’s the one they’re all here to see!” It was at that point she noticed several heads had turned in their direction. “What are these pasty white guys looking at?” Phoebe muttered under her breath.
“Us,” Sibyl said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we look damn good.”
An older gentleman in a perfectly cut suit was making a beeline for them from across the room.
“Oh shit,” Phoebe muttered. “He’s probably wondering who let the Black people in.”
“Can you please relax?” Sibyl told her. “This is Liam’s house. He’s the only one who can kick us out, and he’s not going to do that ‘cause he’s busy boffing your sister.”
“Excuse me,” said the man as he approached. “Are you Sibyl Duncan-Fox?”
Suddenly, Sibyl didn’t seem quite so confident. “That depends on how you feel about Sibyl Duncan-Fox,” she replied.
The man chuckled. “I feel very frustrated because I haven’t been able to return to her restaurant. The meal I had there last month was one of the most remarkable of my life.”
“In that case, yes. I am Sibyl Duncan-Fox,” she confirmed. “This is my mother, Phoebe Duncan.”
“Bill Rogers.” The man shook their hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Are you spending much time on the Island this summer?”
Sibyl glanced over at her mother. “I’ll be out here as long as my mother will have me. Our family estate is not far away.”
“Don’t tell me you’re the Duncans who own Wild Hill!”
“We are,” Sibyl confirmed.
The man pretended to look around conspiratorially. “I’d keep that quiet if I were you,” he said. “Otherwise, you’ll be mobbed with people trying to weasel an invite out of you. No one’s seen the old mansion up close. Rumor has it, it’s haunted.”
“It is,” Phoebe confirmed.
“How wonderful!” the man pronounced, clapping his hands together in glee. “Listen, I know you’re here on holiday, so feel free to tell me to buzz off. But Sibyl, if you’re interested in introducing your splendid cuisine to the Island, I’m certain you’d be able to name any price. I’d be thrilled to make the introduction at my next get-together. I’ve been searching in vain for the perfect caterer.”
“I’m afraid I don’t—” Sibyl started to say before her mother cut her off.
“She’ll give it some thought,” Phoebe said. “Is there a way we can contact you?”
“Certainly! I’ll have my assistant send you my personal contact information via Liam. Such a pleasure to meet you both. I hope we cross paths again soon.”
After he was gone, Sibyl turned to her mother. “What the fuck? We’re supposed to be saving the world and you’re signing my ass up for odd jobs?”
“You didn’t recognize his name?”
“No,” Sibyl admitted. “Should I have? What was it again? Bob Jones? Jim Smith? Chip Whitebread?”
“Bill Rogers runs the Lattimore Group. They promote fossil fuel use—even now, after all that’s happened—”
Sibyl stopped her. “I know what they do.” Her eyes found himon the other side of the room. “You’re telling me that nice old man is evil?”
“That nice old man has used his billions to fund climate change denial propaganda for decades. Now we have a way into his house.” She took her daughter’s chin and turned Sibyl’s head around to face her. “And it was your gift that got us in.”
The Hypocrite
