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But to me and my siblings, it was always home. I pull around to the private road off to the side that leads to the staff apartments where I grew up—and where Cass, Eli, and Chelsea lived up until a couple of years ago.

I lead Sasha through the trees, where a path strung with fairy lights leads us to a side entrance of the resort reserved for staff. On the other side of the trees, past the property line, there’s an abandoned shed Eli and I used to play in when we were kids, pretending we were explorers. It’s the only time I remember playing make believe.

Yet here I am pretending to be married and utterly failing at it.

I use the fob I keep on me and hold the door for Sasha. She’s never been here before, so I lead her around the front lobby, which is the hotel’s crowning glory—aside from the expansive European-style spa and steam rooms downstairs.

“It’s stunning,” Sasha says, her eyes twinkling in the light of the enormous chandelier. It’s quiet at this time of night, with only a few guests milling around the giant white-marble lobby. She’s impressed, but not starstruck like most. I remember she grew up around money—at least once her parents married. “I never wanted for anything when I was a kid,” she confessed to me the other night as we lay in bed. “Except for everything.”

My own childhood was noisy and chaotic, with the seven of us crammed into the apartment next door, but we had no lack of togetherness. No shortage of love and affection and laughter.

Sasha said she knew she was lucky and would never complain about her upbringing, but I could see how that loneliness weighed on her. It wasn’t nearly the same as suffering in poverty, but that didn’t mean it was the best way to grow up.

The night clerk and I exchange a wave as I pass through the doors to the newly renovated east wing. “We won’t be able to see her room,” I say.

“I know. This place is fully booked year-round, isn’t it?”

“Not just that, but the room doesn’t exist anymore.”

Sasha knows from Nora’s documentary and all the notes she’s been reading that the previous owners of the hotel plastered over the room Eleanor was murdered in shortly after her death.

“But we changed the floor plan after the renovation,” I said. “We didn’t want people coming here to stay in her room like her death was the feature of some kind of amusement park.”

We come to a stop where the old room 114 would have been. Now it’s a long expanse of wall. “We put a photo of her inside,” I say, running my hand over the wall.

When Sasha looks at me, she’s got tears in her eyes. “It’s just not fair what was done to her. She finally found happiness, and he stole it from her. It’s like he stole her from her own life.”

My phone buzzes then, but I ignore it, running a thumb under Sasha’s eye.

“Sorry,” she says.

“Don’t be sorry, Angel.”

“I just wish Eleanor’d had someone like you in her life, Griffin.”

I don’t know what to say to that. So instead of responding, I lead her outside into the crisp night air. Only once we’re outside under the stars do I tuck her under my arm and say, “She didn’t, Sasha. But you do.”

CHAPTER34

Sasha

“’Bout time you layabouts got back here,” Chester says when I knock on the door the following week. It’s the first of October, and even though leaves dance and scrape across his front porch in the wind, the sky, for once, is a brilliant blue.

He’s only got the door open a crack, poking his head through the gap.

“Sometimes you have to wait for perfection,” I say, pulling down my sunglasses and winking. “Or for the weather to cooperate.”

Chester chortles.

Over the leaves, I can hear the chickens cluck good-naturedly as Griffin hauls material to the back.

It’s strange Chester doesn’t open the door. It is crisp outside, I guess.

“Well, the good news is we should be able to get everything done but the stain today,” I say cheerfully.

“Listen, I’m happy to see you two,” Chester says, “but I told you the deck is fine as is.”

I prop my hands on my hips. “With a giant hole in it?”