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Jess thought it was probably a sign she was spending too much time in Poppy’s office when Poppy welcomed Sev and Jess inside to use her phone and set out Jess’s “usual mug” for tea—blue Bybee Pottery with hand-painted red poppies scrolling over the sides.

They needed Sev’s contact list to reach his family. There was no way he would remember all the phone numbers necessary to notify the Hardcastles of Chad’s passing and Jess thought they might be more willing to answer a call from a known number. To make things easier, Poppy gave Sev access to the secret private internet connection with a one-time guest password. He swore that he would never breathe a word to Diana. Poppy wasn’t going to push back too much, considering the “death on the property” liability of it all.

Sev created a call list and split it with Jess. The Hardcastles’ reactions ranged from outright disinterest to mistaking Jess for a prying member of the press to Chad’s great-uncle Carl trying to order Jess to pick up his dry cleaning. It wasn’t even a shirt he needed for the funeral. He just knew he had a shirt waiting on him somewhere.

The weather got progressively worse as the storm system keeping Chad’s parents island-bound moved north. While Sev returned to the villa to search for Chad’s ID and other items that Blister had requested, he asked Jess to get a start on Chad’s obituary using an online form.

She muttered while clicking around on the funeral home’s website. “It’s going to be really hard to concoct an obituary from ‘never convicted of a felony’ and ‘his dad building a library wasn’t enough to get him into his legacy college.’?”

An unexpected voice sounded from the door. “This sounds like a ‘name, date of birth, date of death’ situation. Keep it short and simple.”

She looked up to see Dean standing over her, holding a silver room-service cloche. “Yeah, I’m kind of glad you heard me say that and not one of Chad’s family members.”

“Don’t get in the habit of not saying true stuff. That would make you less interesting,” he said, giving her a peck on the lips. She liked that he’d become comfortable with casual gestures of affection so quickly. Yes, they were far from progressing into a sexual relationship or even a relationship, really. But this was…good.

“If that is a cheeseburger under that dome, you’ll get a lot more than a kiss,” she told him.

“I am aware of your cheeseburger barter system,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. He lifted the cloche to reveal the most beautiful cheeseburger she’d ever seen, on a perfectly grilled, butter-soaked brioche bun. Thick-cut bacon peeked flirtatiously from under the lettuce and tomato, and Jess could just make out the golden edges of a fried egg. And Lord help her, there were hand-cut, homemade potato chips piled high on the plate.

“Well, now I am in serious danger of offering you the worst proposal of my career,” she told him. “Clumsy and based entirely on grease-soaked carbs, and sure to be rejected.”

He laughed. “Let me make you a few more cheeseburgers before we start talking long-term…sandwich-based commitment.”

“Fair enough,” she said, biting into the most delicious fucking cheeseburger her lips had ever touched. All she wanted to do was eat this burger, crawl into his lap, and maybe stay there forever.

“So, how are things in the kitchen?”

“Eh, less stressful than usual. Most of the other guests are gone, except for your group, that Zephyr lady, and Mrs. Treadaway, so it’s pretty quiet. I think Diana managed to talk Poppy into a round of hot-oil rose quartz scalp massages or something.”

“I guess I’m glad they’re occupied?” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “I have a question for you.”

“You should have that tattooed somewhere. I have location suggestions.”

“Ha ha,” she snarked back, still chewing. “So Susan Treadaway complained that your signature pasta dish smelled like feet. Is that normal?”

Dean blinked at her. “That is not the question I expected.”

“You thought it was going to be some filthy burger proposal, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I am weirdly disappointed,” he confessed. “And a little offended.”

“I will proposition you over a cheeseburger in the near future,” she promised him.

“Thank you,” he said, hitching his hip up on Poppy’s desk. “And yeah, it’s not shocking that she said that. Real imported Italian cheeses can smell pretty sharp for people who are used to the Parmesan dust available in the grocery store…and OK, Taleggio and fontina cheeses are known for their smells, but that’s half the reason I use them, to offset the nutty sweetness of the mushrooms.”

“And Chad and Jeremy both ordered the same pasta dish and…and now they’re dead,” she said. “Any chance that the cheese has gone bad since it was imported? Don’t some cheeses have problems with listeria and such?”

“I doubt it. I’ve used one provider for years. They’re reputable importers, and they would have notified me of a recall. Plus, multiple guests have eaten that dish in the last few weeks, using cheese from that order, and they haven’t had any problems,” Dean said, frowning.

“But now that you mention it, Chad and Jeremy didn’t eat exactly the same pasta dish. Jeremy’s dish included mushrooms. Chad hated mushrooms, even when we were kids. He pitched a fit when somebody brought his favorite super meaty pizzas to one of the bonfires because it had mushrooms on it. He actually threw half a pizza on the ground and whined about how the mushrooms ruined it. He couldn’t just pick them off. So when he ordered the pasta, he put a note on the order insisting that no mushrooms touch it. I mean, it’s right there in the name—tagliatelle ai funghi . But since Chad is a known pain in the ass, I used allergy protocols. Separate pans, separate utensils, separate plates.”

“So…not the cheese…and not the mushrooms. Damn,” she muttered. “I thought maybe I was onto something there.”

“Sorry, Sherlock, you’re just going to have to settle for being really good at this one job,” he told her. “Speaking of which, take a break from Sev’s dirty work and finish your lunch.”

She took a big bite of cheeseburger. “I’m fine, really. Sev’s not asking a lot. And it’s good for me to keep busy. It keeps my mind off things.”

“I still don’t like him, never have. But I will deny my caveman instincts and respect your right to autonomy,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “Also, it’s no Meatball Night, but we’re having family dinner. Your group is getting a selection of frittatas, which I can make ahead. For us, I’m making a standing rib roast, wrapped in bacon. And Jonquil’s making our aunt Rosemary’s bourbon cream pie for dessert.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Chef Osbourne?”

“Is it working?” Dean asked, cocking his brow.

“I’m ashamed to admit that it is,” she said, as he kissed her cheek.

Behind him, they heard someone clear their throat. Poppy was leaning against the door frame, smirking. “Oh, no, please feel free to use my office as your hookup spot.”

Jess blushed while Dean snickered. For some reason, Poppy had hauled a heavy-duty garbage bag into her office . The thick black plastic didn’t quite go with her stylish eggplant-colored sweaterdress.

“You know we pay a very competent maintenance staff, right?” Dean said, nodding at the trash bag.

Poppy rolled her eyes and dropped the bag to the floor with a clank of broken glass.

“Terry Lynn just carried this up the hill, to bring it to my attention,” Poppy said. “I asked the housekeeping staff to keep an eye out for anything weird in the guest villas.”

“Who’s collecting glass shards in their villa?” Dean asked.

“Zephyr,” Poppy said. “Terry Lynn said she went from ‘nothing weird’ to hiding broken bottles under the rest of her garbage.”

Poppy lifted one of the bottle remnants from the bag. Jess saw the broken remnants of several Steel Hills bottles, the same brand as the bottle Sev had whisked off their couch earlier. How much vodka had Zephyr consumed this week? She was so petite…

Oh, wait.

“I think she was sharing her stash with Chad,” Jess said. “We saw him leaving her villa the night before he died. Maybe she’s worried that counted as ‘impacting the other guests’? She could be hiding them so she doesn’t lose her reservation.”

“Huh, that is something to consider.” Poppy shook her head. “It seems like a bad idea for a guest to drink that much, but it seems like a worse idea to provoke Zephyr right now by asking her about bottle hoarding.”

“This seems like a Beth conversation,” Dean agreed.

Poppy sighed. “I don’t want to bother Beth, but I could also use a bit of a walk over to our side of the compound. Can I help you with anything?”

Jess shook her head. “I just need to call Mavis.”

“I’ll come with you,” Dean told Poppy. He stood and patted Jess’s shoulder. “And we can see if maybe Beth has vodka in her house.”

“I would like to know that myself,” Poppy replied as they ambled out.

Jess shook her head, wondering how she’d missed Zephyr drinking heavily all week. She’d seemed steady on her feet, clear eyed; she’d attended yoga classes. So much for Jess’s pride in her observational skills.

Jess dialed Mavis’s number. It struck her that Poppy was showing a considerable amount of trust, leaving Jess alone in her office like this. Mavis picked up on the first ring this time. As usual, she was on top of her game.

“Jess, you haven’t touched base with me in more than twenty-four hours. You can’t do that when you’re isolated in the middle of nowhere with questionable characters. I start to panic!” Mavis practically yelled in her ear. “I almost called Blanche!”

“Mavis,” she sighed, her voice shaking slightly with relief. Mavis’s protective anxiety was, at least, dependable. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I can’t tell you much. Just don’t believe everything that you see on the news, if you see anything on the news,” Jess said, distracting herself by stacking the papers she’d scattered around Poppy’s desk. She picked up a file folder and saw that Sev had left his cell phone behind. Jess supposed that after nearly a week without his phone, Sev had simply stopped thinking about it.

The latest model, protected by a sleek matte-silver “destruction-proof” case, it was just like Sev—low-key, professional, and easy to miss. The most exciting thing on his all-black lock screen was a Memories preview from the Photos feature, where there were streaks of red across the picture. The thumbnail was too small for Jess to see what it was, but honestly, it looked like the photo had been taken accidentally while Sev was standing in a crowd. And in the center of the photo, the only thing that was sort of in focus was a red square with white buttons on both top corners. Jess supposed this updated Memory was a response to Sev’s connection to the spa’s Wi-Fi.

“Jess?” Mavis prompted, bringing her back to the conversation. “How in the hell are you not freaking out from the Tillard proposal not going forward ‘for now’? That was your whole plan to keep the building.”

“I’m juggling a lot of stuff right now that’s keeping me distracted,” Jess said. “And I know that sounds cryptic and unhelpful. It’s just a mess up here, and I need you to be ready for me to unload the mother of all ‘whine and wine’ sessions when I come home.”

“And when would that be?” Mavis asked pointedly.

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to salvage what I can.”

“Well, then you’re sticking your neck out for Diana, who would not do the same for you. And I say this, knowing that you’re my boss, but smarten the hell up. Jess, the business is you . It’s not some building, no matter how much you love this place. We’re going to figure it out.”

“Understood,” Jess grumbled as Kiki appeared outside the window, waving. Jess waved back awkwardly. “I have to go. Just know that I’m safe. I’m not alone.”

“Don’t you hang up on me, Jessamine Laverne Bricker!”

“You know that’s not my middle name!” she whispered back, gathering her stuff. Sev’s phone, she left on Poppy’s desk. She was unwilling to take responsibility for anything else for her group for the day.

“Yeah, but it’s the worst one I could come up with!” Mavis shouted as Jess hung up. She rose and moved out to the front porch to give her former roommate a weirdly stiff hug. It was difficult, considering Kiki was holding two of the spa’s spring water bottles in her hands, thumping them lightly against Jess’s back.

Jess found that she’d missed her. Like the Osbournes, she felt that maybe Kiki was someone she could continue some sort of friendship with after they all finished this “vacation.” It felt like forever since she’d spoken to the most tolerable Helston.

“Hey,” Kiki said, handing her one of the bottles. “I thought you might need a break. The staff keep telling us hydration is a solution for grief and stress.”

“I’m sure it’s a solution, but I’m not sure it’s the solution,” Jess replied, opening her bottle. Her throat was awfully dry, considering all the talking she’d been doing. “How are you holding up?”

Kiki dragged a hand through her penny-bright hair. “This whole thing is so weird. Chad dying in the middle of a stupid spa trip. I just came up here to keep my mom off my back about being in the wedding, and now this? It’s such a mess.”

“Are you hearing anything from the family back home?” Jess asked.

“From our family?” Kiki shook her head. “Our phones still have no signal and Diana seems…weirdly OK with that? I asked her if she wanted me to call home on the office phone last night, and she said no. I think maybe she’s afraid of what Aunt Birdie is going to say if she hears that Di’s not engaged yet and we’re embroiled in a double-dead-guy scandal here. I didn’t have the nerve to call Birdie myself. You know how my family is. I hate how quickly I fold when I’m around them. It feels impossible to stand up to them, and they use this certain tone on me and I just panic.”

“I get it. I guess. I mean, I haven’t exactly been the picture of strength against peer pressure myself,” Jess muttered. “Remind me to block your aunt from my phone when I get back.”

“I already have her blocked in mine,” Kiki said, opening her bottle of water and taking a long gulping drink.

“So, have you talked to the sheriff yet?” Jess asked.

“The weird guy with the creeper moustache?” Kiki replied, shuddering. “Yeah, but once he realized I really didn’t spend time with either of the dead guys, he lost interest. I mean, he had some questions about you, but that’s about it.”

Jess tried not to spit out the water she was drinking and mostly succeeded—but there was dribbling. “What kind of questions about me?”

“Just about…how long you and Chad had known each other, how well you and Chad got along, that sort of thing.”

Jess wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, “Well, shit. That doesn’t sound good.”

Kiki’s whole body tensed and she held up her hands, sloshing her water. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I mean, he’s investigating this whole thing as an accident, right?”

“As far as I know, but it sounds a little bit like they think I’m a suspect,” Jess grumbled. She thought of Sev’s suspicions of the Osbournes, of how many people at the Golden Ash had a reason to want Chad gone—even Trenton, if he’d somehow found out about Chad and Diana.

A shiver ran down Jess’s spine that had nothing to do with the chilling breeze ripping over the grounds or the extended conversations with Chad’s somewhat sucky family. Jess realized she was probably the last one to talk to him. And the conversation hadn’t been very nice. What if the police thought she had something to do with it? If anybody in the Tillard-Helston party thought it meant getting away without inconvenience, they wouldn’t just throw her under the bus, they would park the bus on her. What if the Hardcastles thought she had something to do with it? Unlike the Tillards and the Helstons, the Hardcastles managed to combine wealth and competence. That wasn’t fair. Jess was probably letting her bias against Trenton show.

If they decided that she did have something to do with Chad’s death, they could ruin her. They could tank her tiny business. They could rezone Nana Blanche’s house and surround her grandmother with mini-malls and vape stores with a freeway running through the front yard. And Mavis—hell, they might try to deport Mavis. No one in their circle seemed to understand that coming from Jamaica, Queens, didn’t make her “foreign.”

OK, maybe she was spiraling a little bit.

Jess hadn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t even sure anything wrong had been done. But if it had, she doubted very much that anyone in the wedding party would go down for it. Did she need a lawyer?

Meanwhile, Kiki was staring at Jess while she very quickly lost her mind.

“Dammit, I gotta go,” Jess told her, just in time to hear Diana yell across the hilltop.

“ Jessie! ”

Jess turned to see Diana marching up the steps toward her. Diana looked incredibly not relaxed, considering she’d spent the afternoon getting her scalp massaged. And she was still wearing her stupid church dress.

“Well,” Jess huffed. “Double dammit.”

Suddenly, Kiki cried out in indignation, as if Jess had stomped on her toes. “Really, Jess, you thought this was an appropriate time to take a water break? There’s no time for you to ‘take a breather.’ You’re here to do a job!”

Jess gasped. “What the fuck, Kiki?”

“I’m sorry!” Kiki whispered, backing away from Jess as if she were radioactive. “I have to show loyalty. If Diana kicks me out of the wedding party, my mother will never let me hear the end of it.”

Kiki disappeared down the hill as fast as she’d appeared. Jess had to admire the fleetness of Kiki’s total abandonment, even if it did piss her the hell off.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your precious downtime , Jess, but I’d like to know what you’ve done today to earn your place here?” Diana threw her arm back to gesture at the spa grounds at large. “What have you done to convince Trenton to propose to me?”

“I’m sorry, Diana. I’ve spent my day calling the Hardcastle family members because Chad is dead ,” Jess reminded her. “And I’ve been too busy helping Sev handle that to salvage anything. Trenton is in mourning. What exactly do you expect me to do?”

“Convince Trenton to move forward with the proposal!” Diana insisted, her eyes watering at the mention of Chad.

Jess gaped at her. “His best friend just died.”

“So we should focus on something positive,” Diana insisted, wringing her hands. “Give him something to look forward to. Find a way to make Trenton think that proposing is the best way to memorialize his friend.”

“That borders on the pathologically insensitive,” Jess told her.

“Oh, get off it. You need this just as much as I do! And I’m so close to getting everything I ever wanted!” Diana cried. “Everything my family wants. It’s all right here, at the tips of my fingers. All you have to do is help me grab it, like you promised!”

“Diana, in my professional opinion, this is a bad idea.”

“I’m not saying we do it now, but maybe you could talk him into taking the engagement photos later today,” Diana said, her tone edging on wheedling. “Just so he feels invested.”

“It’s been raining all day,” Jess said, pointing up to the clouds overhead. “And you’re going to try to ask him to smile in anticipation of nuptial bliss when—just trying to remind you—His. Best. Friend. Just. Died.”

“Is this how you always speak to your clients?” Diana demanded.

“Technically, you’re not my client. Trenton is,” she shot back. “You are some former classmate who didn’t speak to me for years until she needed something from me.”

Diana scoffed. “I’m just trying to help you , Jess. I’m trying to bolster your little business—”

“How would working my ass off to cover for whatever personal drama you have going on help me ?” Jess demanded. “This is insane, Diana. Your family’s plan to hitch onto Trenton’s gravy train is no way to build your life.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m the only one getting something out of it. Do you think Trenton wants to be with me because I have a beautiful soul?” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s just like any other guy I’ve dated. He wants me because he thinks the fact that I chose him makes him a big strong man, more impressive than all the Trenton Tillards before him. So, I’ll let him call me ‘DeeDee’ despite the fact that I hate it. I’m gonna get married and secure my life and do enough for my family to get them off my back before Trenton finds a sidepiece that he gives a ridiculous nickname to that makes her feel like she’s being stabbed in the ears.”

“Well, that’s bleak,” Jess commented. Diana didn’t reply, so Jess pressed ahead. “Do you want to tell me what this rush to get the proposal over with is really about? Because I have my suspicions, and I’d really like to not have to say them aloud.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Diana carefully climbed down the steps in her heels. She took Dean’s jacket from Jess’s arm and draped it over her own shoulders—without asking.

Something visceral and mean rose up in Jess’s chest at the sight of her wearing Dean’s clothes. It gave her the stones to dig the matchbook out of her pocket and quietly say, “I think you were meeting Chad at the Sportsman’s Lodge every time Trenton’s daddy made him go on a business trip.”

Diana’s perfectly glossed mouth dropped open.

“So maybe it was what I was thinking?” Jess replied.

“Yes, I was sleeping with Chad, OK?” Diana whispered, glancing back at the lodge. “Only a few times. It was purely physical and I couldn’t help myself. We hooked up a couple of times at college, and Trenton’s sweet, but there’s just not a lot of heat there, and you saw how Chad liked to flirt. He wasn’t marriage material—he was too unpredictable. He was self-destructive. Trenton is predictable . He’s biddable . I can handle him. I knew it wasn’t gonna go anywhere with Chad. It was just…fun.”

Jess stared at her, shaking her head.

“You know, I kind of feel better, telling you about this,” Diana said. “It was really weighing on me. And you’re not going to tell anybody because, again, you need Trenton to propose just as much as I do. We’re going to cross this finish line together.”

Dammit. Diana was right. While it might give Jess immense satisfaction to watch Trenton collide with a clue, that collision would cost Jess a lot of money. It would cost her a home. It would cost Mavis a workplace. Maybe she could leave Trenton an anonymous note after he and Diana left the spa engaged. She inhaled deeply, bunching her hands into fists she knew she wouldn’t use, and asked, “What were you going to do once you were married? Have Sunday barbecues with your husband and the guy you used to bang on the side?”

Diana dragged her fingers through her damp hair. In the misting rain, it was darkening to a color that reminded Jess of blood. “Well, don’t put it like that—you make it sound so cheap.”

“You were meeting him at a bass-themed motel.”

“Yes, and I need your help to get Trenton all tied up before he finds out,” Diana hissed, wrapping her coral-tipped fingers around Jess’s wrist. Jess jerked her arm out of the hold. She didn’t want to admit—again—that Diana was right. If she was going to orchestrate this proposal, she was going to have to do it before Trenton caught on. But Jess didn’t have the energy for it at the moment. She just needed to be somewhere else, away from Diana.

“I am very distressed by your lack of effort today.”

Jess threw up her hands, her water sloshing in the bottle. “OK.”

“And you’re not concerned about that?” Diana demanded.

Jess thought about it. Diana was distressed and the proposal hadn’t been cemented. And here Jess was, heading to a friend’s house for dinner. With other friends. And she was probably going to spend the night with a man who enjoyed kissing her. And when she went home, she would have people in Nashville who loved her, work that needed to be done. The Helston-Tillard job had not worked out as she’d hoped, but Jess Bricker was doing just fine.

“Nope.” She grinned at Diana as she took Dean’s jacket back from around the woman. “You seem to forget that you need me just as much as I need you. I’m the one who has developed relationships with the Osbournes. I’m the one who has secured permission for you to have strangers and vendors trooping onto the spa property for your proposal—if you manage to talk him into doing it before we leave. And I’m the one who has secured permission for you to post professional photos of that ‘lavish, innovative, romantic’ proposal you want so badly. And I swear to God, if you mention the word ‘genuine’ to me right now, I will walk off. If I quit, you’re left with nothing, and who knows if Trenton will want to make a third run at this, especially with Chad gone. If you stop dicking me around, I’ll press forward with the planned engagement when and if Trenton is ready. And you can bet your ass I won’t be wearing a bridesmaid’s dress afterward. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m late for a previous engagement.”