Page 111 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

They took a table positioned near the windows, then ordered iced tea and lemonade laced with vodka. When the waitress had disappeared, Adam asked, “So how are you and your family holding up?”

“How do you think? Someone seems to want all of us dead. Or at least part of us. It tends to make a person nervous.” She plopped a peanut into her mouth and rubbed the salt from her fingers. “And that’s not all of it. Then there’s the grief to deal with. A double whammy.”

A goateed waiter with a napkin wrapped around him like an apron brought their drinks. He wore a beret he’d angled over the back of his head in either a fashion statement or to hide the beginnings of a bald spot.

“I’m waiting for a call from Hannah. She’s all alone at the house now. Lucille took off for Florida—no, don’t ask.” She held up a hand to ward off the obvious question. “I don’t know why. And now Mom’s gone . . .” Her voice trailed off and she sighed as she reached for her drink. “I’m sorry. I’ve been advised not to play the victim and so I won’t. But it would be a lie to say that I don’t feel vulnerable and in some kind of shock.”

“A lot has happened lately.”

“That it has,” she said, and it was almost a whisper.

“And even before. Your family seems particularly prone to tragedy.”

“Just like out of a Greek play,” she agreed as she took a swallow from her drink. “What about yours?”

“My family? Not much of one. My father took off when I was little. I don’t remember much about him, don’t know where he ended up. My mother, brother and I lived with my grandmother until Mom died. It was sudden. A brain tumor. I was eleven at the time. My brother was sixteen. Grandma took over from there.”

“So where’s your brother?”

“Brussels the last I heard. In the Navy. Intelligence. We aren’t that close.”

“No sisters, huh?”

“None that I know of. My father could have spawned a whole sorority for all I know.”

She felt foolish. At least she’d had parents. Siblings. A real family. Such as it was. “You make me feel like a crybaby.”

“I don’t think that.”

“If you don’t, you’re the only one,” she admitted. “I’m always accused of playing the victim, of not bucking up, of crying in my beer.” She flashed him a smile. “It tends to give one a complex, you know. Maybe that’s why they all think I’m not playing with a full deck. Don’t get on my case about putting myself down, I’m not. My siblings seriously think I’m losing it, or have lost it, or will soon lose it.” She smiled sadly. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“Who says so?”

“All of ’em. Hannah. Amanda. Troy. Even Kelly.”

“Doesn’t your twin stand up for you?” he asked, his gaze thoughtful.

“She doesn’t talk to the rest of the family. I thought you knew that.”

“Why is that?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Mom cut her off after the boating accident. Blamed her for blowing her inheritance and almost killing me.”

Adam frowned, rubbed at a bead of sweat on his glass. “Tell me again about the accident.”

“Why?”

He was careful. “Because I’m trying to help you.”

“What’s to tell? You know what happened.”

“Okay, what about afterward? When is the first time you saw Kelly?”

“After I was released from the hospital.” Where was this going? Why was he now so serious?

“And when she was released, right?”

The musician had finally stopped, and the bistro seemed suddenly quiet. No glasses rattled, no buzz of conversation; only the very quiet whisper of the overhead fans made any noise whatsoever. She hated to talk so intimately about Kelly. Even to Adam. But he was waiting. Staring at her with those intense eyes. She put down her glass and took in a deep breath. It was obviously “come to Jesus” time, as her mother had always called those moments when it was imperative that all secrets come to light. Shakily, she drew in a deep breath. “Yes.”

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