Page 10

Even with the unsettling presence of Chad Hardcastle next door, Jess slept like a rock, only getting up to go to the bathroom once. Jess could swear she saw lights bobbing in the woods again, like overgrown fireflies, but it was probably the stress getting to her.

She woke before the rest of her party and set off for Poppy’s office. As she climbed the hill, a flash of red caught her attention in the distance, close to the trees, near a sign that read “Private—Staff Only.” It was Sev, walking out of the woods like he was strolling out of a boardroom. He was wearing workout gear that looked like it had never seen the inside of a gym. There were folding creases in the basketball shorts, for goodness’ sake. Was he secretly searching for a phone signal?

Absently, Jess wondered if Aubrey would have the nerve to chastise Sev for underdressing. Jess doubted it. A lot.

It didn’t surprise her to see the lights on in Poppy’s office long before normal working hours. The lodge’s entrance was unlocked, but Poppy’s office door was closed. She could hear muffled voices on the other side. They sounded strained and upset.

Jess was pretty sure she heard Dean say, “Don’t we have the right to refuse service to assholes? The Hardcastles definitely count as—” only for Poppy to cut him off with something like, “This isn’t a damn gas station, Dean! We’re a five-star resort! I have enough on my plate right now without you—”

Jess took a step back. She hadn’t heard Poppy speak to even Sheriff Blister in that tone, and it was clear how much Blister annoyed her. Another voice, male, was calmer, in professional mode as he said something like, “The best thing to do is just act like they’re any other guests. Let them finish out their party’s stay and send them home happy and healthy.”

Dean replied, “I don’t like it. You know how he was around Emma Lee, how he was around all of you. He’s a—” But then the sound of the staff dragging tables and chairs into place for breakfast interfered with Jess hearing the rest until Poppy said, “Over stupid kid stuff—creepy, stupid kid stuff, but kid stuff all the same. And we’re not kids now, Dean. We have a lot more to lose.”

Which of the Hardcastles had prompted this response from Dean? It had to be Chad. She could see him being creepy as a kid. He was certainly creepy as an adult, almost exclusively.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “But he’s not getting any of the special flourishes. No molecular gastronomy or alginate sphere garnishes or any of that shit. I won’t even cook anything with Tillard’s damn pecans. I will have Jamie make a special trip to the store just to buy another brand.”

“Your perfectionist nature will not allow you to do a half-assed job,” Poppy said.

“OK, but I’m only going to do a whole-ass job. He will not get additional ass,” Dean told her. And that was the moment he opened the office door to find Jess standing there. His eyes went wide.

Unable to think of any other response, Jess told him, “I am not expecting additional ass.”

Behind Dean, Poppy cackled. A tall, barrel-chested man with a thick, dark beard stood at Poppy’s side, grinning at Jess.

“OK, fine, in terms of embarrassing things said out loud, you win this round,” Dean admitted.

Jess pinched her lips together to keep from laughing, but a giggle burst out. He shook his head and joined her in it.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “And don’t worry about, um, the Hardcastles. I’ve dealt with so many creeps through work. Drunk, handsy, asshole groomsmen. Drunk, handsy, asshole uncles of the bride. Drunk, handsy, asshole uncles of the groom. I can handle myself.”

“Some people are their own brand of drunk, handsy asshole,” Dean told her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “Please be careful.”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. A pained expression crossed his face, one of loss and regret, making Jess turn her hand to grasp his. He just squeezed it and walked away.

Jess was left staring after him.

Walking into the office, Jess felt like she was seeing behind the Wizard of Oz’s curtain. This was Poppy at her least glamorous—a red Chickenhawk Valley High sweatshirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail, no makeup. She was sitting behind her desk, slurping a face-sized coffee as if her life depended on it—and maybe it did. Jess couldn’t imagine that Poppy had gotten a lot of sleep the night before.

“I really don’t think that amount of caffeine is a good idea all at once,” the bearded man told her. “Just in terms of your cardiac health.”

Poppy’s full unlacquered lips pursed as she swallowed one last gulp of coffee. “Baby, I love you. I respect your opinion as my spouse and as a medical professional. But if you try to separate me from my precious, life-giving coffee, I will lock all the streaming services on ToddlerToonTV and walk away. You don’t know how to change the settings back.”

The man’s responding frown was visible, even through the beard.

“OK, I wouldn’t, but I would think about it real hard,” Poppy muttered, sipping more coffee. Poppy waved Jess into her office. “Is everything all right at your villa, Jess? In terms of, well, everything?”

As she moved closer, Jess noted that there were several legal-type papers on the desk, including a document labeled FARM SHIELD INSURANCE—UMbrELLA LIABILITY POLICY across the top. Poppy moved them into a file folder and looked up, giving her an awkward smile.

“This is my husband, Owen,” Poppy said. “He worries.”

“Almost professionally,” Owen told Jess, shaking her hand.

“Is it time for the planning calls to begin?” Poppy asked cheerfully. Clearly, the coffee was kicking in. “Would you like coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please. And yeah, we’ll definitely need to talk about the planning.”

There was a casual intimacy here, letting Jess into the secret behind-the-scenes club. She’d established herself as one of them, people like the Osbournes who kept things running, while the Dianas and Trentons of the world carelessly chased the next new fascination. Honestly, Kiki aside, Jess was a lot more comfortable on this side of the curtain.

Jess took a sip of the fragrant tea Poppy had poured for her, lavender and mint with the slight honey-sweetness of chamomile. “But first, is there any news about Mr. Treadaway?”

To her surprise, Owen gave Poppy a meaningful glance. Poppy nodded. “Jess found the body. She’s invested.”

“For now, the police are still trying to determine whether Mr. Treadaway’s death was accidental or something else, but honestly, something here isn’t right,” Owen told her. “I’m calling every contact I have in the law enforcement community to try to get the state to move on this with some urgency. With all due respect to Marty and Blister, this is a bit beyond them.”

“Owen, like Beth, is a beloved transplant from the outside world,” Poppy said, grinning up at her husband, her eyes all googly and warm. “He used to be a medical examiner in Chattanooga.”

“I came to the valley for a fishing getaway.” Owen bent down and kissed his wife’s forehead. “Poppy convinced me to take an open position at the clinic, and I just never left.

“Anyway, I made contact with the medical examiner handling the case, got a look at the preliminary reports, the photos,” Owen said. “There are some things that don’t make sense.”

“Isn’t it sort of a conflict of interest? Letting you look at the autopsy results when you’re married to Poppy?”

Owen nodded. “It is, which is why I wasn’t allowed to touch anything. I could only use my connections to push it up the chain for further testing.”

“Isn’t it in your best interest, as a family, to keep this quiet?” Jess asked.

“We want to make sure the investigation is handled correctly and resolved quickly, no matter the results,” Owen said. “Otherwise, it can drag out for years with the case closing, reopening, new leads, et cetera. Rumors start, news media starts making suppositions. Social media campaigns start. Netflix documentaries get made. It’s better to be proactive and deliberate.”

Jess raised her hand, as if she were attending an extremely uncomfortable science class. “Is it OK to ask what about the case doesn’t seem right?”

Owen gave Poppy another pointed look. Poppy nodded again. Owen sighed. “I’d really rather not say more than that until we know something official.”

Poppy rolled her eyes, but Jess understood. This was an actual criminal matter, and she was basically a stranger. Even though Jess desperately wanted to know what was happening, she understood not trusting her with more.

“I’m off to work.” Owen slid into his jacket and kissed Poppy again. “Let’s just say I prefer treating small-town living-people problems more than big-city dead-people problems. Nice to meet you, Jess.”

“Owen is overcautious,” Poppy said as Owen quietly closed the door behind him. “He knows how much it bothers me, the idea that someone came onto my property and hurt someone under my protection. He’s actually trying to rule out something suspicious, not find it.”

“I hope there’s nothing to find,” Jess said. “I hope Jeremy Treadaway was just a tragically clumsy creep.”

“You said you needed to talk to me about Trenton and how his ‘surprise’ affects your group?” Poppy asked.

“I had a proposal arranged for when we arrived back home, but Trenton has decided he wants me to plan a new one on your grounds, on the fly. It’s impulsive and kind of ridiculous, but so is Trenton. Instead of gleaning the little details that make a proposal special by observing Diana, I’m going to be scrambling to put something together at the last minute. So basically, I need your permission to do that. Because I don’t want to alienate the few reasonable people on this mountain.”

Jess splayed her hands out in front of her. “I’m saying all this in the hopes that you will take my personal and professional distress into account when Diana asks to bring a professional photographer onto the grounds, post her engagement content to social media, whilst tagging the Golden Ash. I know that you guys have concerns with client privacy and exclusivity, but I think that if you post a small number of highly curated images from within the spa, it will drive even more interest from potential guests.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Poppy waved her concerns off. “To a certain extent, the phone policy is about relaxation and safety, but really, we ask people not to post on social media from the Golden Ash because we want them focused on their experience. I care way more that those jerks don’t really deserve the work you’re going to put into making something special for them.”

“Thank you.” Jess sighed. “I’m just sorry about all the trouble on top of all the Treadaway stuff. Trenton must have had you scrambling, making all those last-minute villa reservations.”

“Not really; he booked the Serenity Villa weeks ago,” Poppy said, chewing her lip. “He showed up a day earlier than I expected, and with guests he didn’t have listed on his contract, but these things happen.”

Jess’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“He booked both villas at the same time,” Poppy said carefully. “I thought you knew.”

For a few seconds, Jess could only pinch her lips together as she forced air through her nose.

Rage.

Did that mean that Trenton was never going to use the proposal he was paying her to plan? He was always going to come up here and disrupt the very thing he supposedly wanted Jess to spend a week away from her office to do. And she was just expected to go along and clean up his mess while he plied her with his weaponized helplessness and aw-shucks-who-me-I’m-just-an-adorable-human-sized-puppy bullshit—and she was going to run behind him with a mop because his money was standing between her and losing the home that she’d made for herself.

“He—he…Selfish, inconsiderate, intentionally clueless mother fucker !” Jess yelled, just as Jonquil walked into the room.

“Well, good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” Jonquil snorted. “Y’all doing OK?”

“No, no, I am not.” Jess set her tea aside, put her head down, breathed deeply. When she looked up, Poppy was pouring clear liquid from a jar marked “Chickenhawk Valley Moonshine Distillery” into Jess’s teacup. “It’s eight in the morning.”

“Trust me,” Poppy told her.

“I’m sorry.” Jess sighed. “You’ve got so much other stuff to deal with—”

Poppy finished topping off Jess’s tea. “No, no, this is really a pleasant distraction.”

Jess paused to sip from her cup. She gasped as she swallowed what tasted like lightning-infused gasoline. “Poison.”

“It’s not for everybody.” Jonquil passed her a glass bottle of spring water, which she used to wash the moonshine taste from her mouth. Jess’s entire body shuddered.

“I thought you didn’t serve alcohol here at the Golden Ash,” Jess wheezed.

“Well, exceptions for every rule. And you’re not exactly a guest,” Poppy said. “And in response to Trenton’s fuckery, I’m going to have Jonquil upsell their whole party on the most expensive spa treatments we have. The stuff with ground moonstone and saffron in it. And fourteen-carat-gold flake. And I’m adding a ten percent service fee to his total bill, out of principle. I’ll put it in the staff Christmas bonus fund, but still. It will hit his wallet.”

Jess laughed. “Thank you.”

“Just let me review any social media posts before you click ‘Send,’?” Poppy said, as if she hadn’t just done Jess a huge favor. “What can we do to make this easier for you?”

“Build a time machine and go back to convince me not to take this job?” Jess suggested.

“Why don’t you come to family dinner tonight? All the key players will be there in one place, except Dean, of course,” Jonquil said. “He’s got dinner service here. Even if you don’t accomplish much planning-wise, I get the feeling you could use the break from your roommates.”

“Is that allowed?” Jess asked.

“Just treat it like a fight club. Don’t talk about it,” Poppy replied. “Beth is going to make her famous meatballs. That alone is worth the price of admission, which is that you’ll have to listen to my family try to wheedle the recipe out of Beth, without success.”

“The super chef can’t figure the secret recipe out for himself?” Jess asked.

Poppy shrugged. “Dean probably could, but he considers that to be bad sportsmanship.”

“I will agree to the meatballs, but what I need is continued access to a reliable phone line and a computer, because I’m going to need to contact a bunch of contractors and vendors as soon as possible.”

“Would you mind if I worked with you on that? I’d kind of like to know who you’re asking onto spa property,” Poppy said. “And I know all the locals anyway.”

“Yeah, that seems reasonable given…everything.” Jess nodded. “Does the fourteen-carat-gold flake really do anything for the skin?”

Jonquil shook her head. “Not really. Makes people feel fancy.”

“Sell the hell out of it to Trenton,” Jess told her, standing up.

Chuckling, Poppy paused and said, “And I’m sure the on-call spa florist would be more than willing to help you with whatever you need to make Diana’s vision all floral and fancy. She does all the flowers for the villas, so we know she’s dependable. And she’s real discreet.”

Jess’s brow furrowed.

“Beth,” Poppy added. “The florist is Beth.”

“I thought Beth was your general counsel and spa concoction mixer,” Jess said.

“She is. She and Jonquil met a few years ago on some forum for botanical nuts. She was completely burned out practicing corporate law in Hackensack. Jonquil invited her here, and Beth found a life she liked much better. Dabbling in almost everything she loves without being bogged down by the stuff she doesn’t.” Poppy beamed at her. “Now, go enjoy a nutritious breakfast, and come back to use my phone for your business dealings. I should be dressed like a professional business lady by then.”

Jess took one last sip of her tea and let loose a rasping wheeze. “Gah! I forgot about the moonshine.”

Still trying to rid her mouth of moonshine taste, Jess walked out of Poppy’s office and almost ran into Mrs. Treadaway. The newly minted widow was clad in a long flowing caftan in aqua and cobalt linen over what appeared to be a wet swimsuit. Jess wondered how she was tolerating that in the mountain’s autumn chill.

But Susan seemed to be in a pretty breezy mood for someone who, by rights, should be planning a funeral. On seeing Jess, she hitched her sunglasses into her dark hair and offered Jess a brief smile. “Oh, good, I’ve called three times to ask for a brow-threading technician to be sent to my villa, but I’ve been told that isn’t a service you offer here.” She sniffed. “That can’t possibly be correct, can it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t work here,” Jess replied.

Susan blinked at her as if she didn’t understand that there might be people at the Golden Ash who were not present for the specific purpose of doing her bidding. “But I’ve seen you walking in and out of the manager’s office all week.”

“Yes, but I’m not an employee. I have no authority to book any sort of treatment for you.”

“But I’ve seen you talking to the owner,” Susan said.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“I just need my brows threaded,” Susan insisted, her voice growing louder by the syllable. “This isn’t the level of service I’ve come to expect, considering the loss I’ve suffered at this facility!”

Jess stared at her. Was this one of those situations where someone going through a crisis fixated on some tiny detail so they didn’t have to process their misery and anxiety? Jess knew a little something about that, personally and professionally. But that didn’t seem to be what was happening with Susan Treadaway. Her eyes were clear and dry. She’d taken the time to apply lip liner that morning. She smelled like Jonquil’s orange-cinnamon mud concoction.

Suddenly, Poppy appeared in the doorway to her office. “Mrs. Treadaway, can I help you?”

“This rude girl refuses to schedule my treatment!” Susan exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Jess. Poppy’s brows raised. Jess shrugged.

“Well, let me see if I can take care of that for you,” Poppy said, ushering Susan into her office.

Jess mouthed the word “Sorry.”

Jess stood staring as Poppy closed the door. Unless she was planning on showing her grief through perfectly groomed funeral eyebrows, Susan didn’t appear to be mourning her husband that hard. Between that and Jeremy’s apparent need for validation from every woman he saw, Jess was struck with the distinctly uncomfortable sensation of feeling a little sorry for Jeremy Treadaway.

As most of the guests were having breakfast in their villas, the main dining room had been reconfigured so their larger-than-average group table was positioned central to the huge back window. The table was spread with the same sort of fruit-and-healthy-options array from the day before. But clearly, a benefit of Trenton’s arrival was that Aubrey wasn’t about to tell the Pecan Prince that he couldn’t have carbs. Their menu had expanded to include multiple sauces, bacon, and fried chicken— which Jess planned to drown in hollandaise sauce on principle. Like the well-raised young man he was, Sev stood and pulled out Jess’s chair for her. Unfortunately, he chose the chair between himself and Chad…which meant she had to sit next to Chad. Sev slid into his own seat as she began her enthusiastic and unnecessary saucing. He muttered, “Well, this is going to be interesting.”

She looked up at him and quirked her lips twice in quick succession, making him laugh. She noted that he patted his pockets as he sat again, probably looking for the cell phone that wasn’t there.

Chad didn’t look all that pleased by the arrangement, but it didn’t stop him from putting his hand on the back of Jess’s chair, no matter how many times Jess pressed back against his fingers to pinch him out of the gesture.

“Oh, come on, Jessie , don’t be a drag,” Chad said on a sigh, making a sad puppy face at her. It was not nearly as effective as Trenton’s. Jess wondered if Aubrey had told him to call her that. It was definitely an Aubrey move. Chad reeked of barely processed booze and hangover sweat, and it was all Jess could do not to visibly recoil. “Trenton told me you’re all mine this week. You should take advantage, live a little. We could have a lot of fun, you and me.”

Chad seemed to think a casual hookup with him would bring some meaning to Jess’s life.

Yikes.

“No,” she told him, keeping a pleasant if distant expression on her face while she dragged bacon through the hollandaise. “No, thank you.”

“Boring.” Chad huffed out an annoyed breath and moved his hand when she gave his thumb one last press of her shoulder blade. “So, are we really supposed to just sit round, stare at plants, and think about the oneness of the universe and shit?”

“It’s not a bad thing to relax a little bit,” Trenton told him, shrugging amiably.

“That’s the problem with this place—there’s nothing to do except for this one great rock-climbing spot, not even two miles away from here,” Chad told him. “We could go there right now, blow off some steam.”

Trenton glanced toward the entrance, as if he could summon his fiancée by the power of will. There was no way Trenton would climb a rock wall unless there was a bear underneath him. “Oh, I’d hate to leave DeeDee all alone.”

“Come on, man. You promised me a good time.” Chad sighed, sliding his hand back across Jess’s chair. Trenton ignored him and focused on his plate. Chad grumbled to himself, “I’m going to have to make my own good time.”

Jess heard a commotion by the door and saw Diana strutting toward them, with Aubrey in her wake. Kiki was nowhere to be seen. Diana’s hair billowed behind her like she was starring in her own personalized shampoo commercial. Trenton was mesmerized, the bacon practically falling out of his mouth as Diana approached.

Chad’s hand snaked up Jess’s shoulder and squeezed tight. With everyone else at the table distracted, she reached up with her fork and poked it into his hand. Hard . Chad hissed and snatched his hand away, causing her to drop the fork.

Diana slid into the chair next to Trenton, where there was, in fact, a green juice waiting for her. She kissed Trenton’s cheek because, well, half-chewed bacon. “Morning.”

“Morning, DeeDee. How’d you sleep?” Trenton asked.

“Well, it was pretty hard drifting off without my honey bunny,” Diana cooed. Aubrey sat across from Jess, frowning at the amount of hollandaise on her plate.

Just then, Dean stepped out of the kitchen with a huge platter of pastries. There was a sort of hesitation in his step when he saw their party. His eyes seemed particularly focused on Chad’s proximity to Jess. His lip curled back.

“Chad, Sev, Poppy mentioned you were staying with us this week. It’s interesting to see you again,” Dean said in an icily polite tone.

Sev, however, was all warmth and sincerity. “Dean! Good to see you. I hardly recognized the place.”

Jess glanced back and forth between Dean and Sev. How did Dean know the Hardcastles? The Hardcastles hailed from Virginia before they’d moved to Nashville a few generations back, looking to diversify their newspaper empire into radio stations, retail development, and restaurants. How did they have any connection to middle-of-nowhere Tennessee? This wasn’t even Pigeon Forge. It was Chickenhawk Valley.

But dropping her fork gave her the excuse of not using it after she’d poked it into Chad’s hand, so she was counting it as a win. A server, bearing a name tag that read “Tracy,” seemed to appear out of nowhere and replaced it. Jess whispered, “Thank you.”

Dean looked at Jess with a concerned brow but said nothing as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“I didn’t realize you knew anyone around here,” Diana said, her fingers entwined with Trenton’s. How was he still managing to shovel food into his mouth with one hand?

Sev smiled blithely. “The family has a little retreat, up the mountain a little bit. We used to spend summers hanging out with the Osbournes.”

Jess had seen a magazine pictorial of the Hardcastles’ “little retreat” in Bimini. There were twelve bedrooms and a separate residence for the staff. She hadn’t noticed a palatial mansion on the way into town, but she had been distracted by Aubrey’s “maneuverings.”

“Would have thought they’d have added a golf course by now,” Chad grumbled. “Cheap-ass place.”

“Well, since you’re sticking close to us, we have Pilates after breakfast,” Diana said, clapping her hands like a cruise director. “Trenton, I’ll help you find something you can move around in.”

Trenton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Oh, I don’t know, DeeDee, maybe I’ll just join you later.”

For the next half hour, Jess discreetly shoved breakfast into her face while Trenton continued to attempt Pilates evasion, encouraged by Chad’s cries of “stretching isn’t a sport .”

“Oh, Chad, don’t be a sourpuss,” Diana told him, pouting prettily. “Join us for Pilates, pleeeeease? For me?”

Chad stared at her for a long moment and finally grumbled, “Fine.”

Something sour solidified in Jess’s belly.

Chad’s complaints about the “lack of amenities” at the Golden Ash—no booze, no extreme sports, no TV—continued until the group finished breakfast and Diana practically herded Trenton and Chad out of the dining room. Sev shrugged and followed them at an amiable pace.

“Diana is in rare form this morning,” Jess observed after they’d gone.

“I think Kiki’s conserving her strength,” Aubrey told her. “Said she wanted to hang back and pumice her heels instead of coming to breakfast.”

Jess thought maybe Kiki just wanted some time to herself so she could get some peace and quiet. Jess wished they’d stretched out the meal a little longer for her.

“What did Diana say?”

“That Kiki should do her elbows, too,” Aubrey said, shrugging.

“Charming,” Jess sighed.

“I’m hoping that this week doesn’t convince Kiki to back out of the bridal party because you and I are going to look sort of silly walking up that aisle without a Helston cousin to, you know, anchor things,” Aubrey said. “Of course, best-case scenario, Trenton manages to persuade his cousins to take our spots and we don’t have to worry about it.”

“And this seems normal to you?”

“Oh, no, not at all, but I’ve never told a client that I refuse to accommodate them, so I’m going to figure it out,” Aubrey replied, pushing up from the table. “Which is why I’ll probably be maid of honor.”

Jess called after Aubrey: “That’s not something to brag about!”

Jess looked up at Tracy, who had been silently observing these conversations with an impressively passive expression. “I’m surrounded by insane people.”

“I’m not allowed to have an opinion on these things,” Tracy said, even while she nodded.

“Thank you, I feel validated.”