Page 53 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)
COULD YOU JUST TRY TO LISTEN?
Beckett
Cassandra has disappeared.
I can’t find her anywhere; not in the bathroom, the hallways, or our table. I open one of the doors leading to the outside area only to be greeted with someone that isn’t her.
My heart immediately drops.
This place is too full.
Robert Chartrand’s environmental nonprofit organization is on the verge of reaching international recognition, and he keeps pushing for the protection of sea turtles.
Whatever plans he has for himself and his institution, tonight is clearly important.
Everything is overdramatic, and every conversation hints at something great happening.
I’m so terribly out of the loop, and keeping up with chitchats gives me the biggest headache.
It seems like half of Le Port’s population was invited tonight, but I guess this is the kind of event that really brings people out of their houses.
It wouldn’t be a problem for anyone else, but after an hour of mingling with the guests, I can feel myself starting to get tired.
“Beckett Evans!” A random stranger waves at me.
“Hi!” I wave back but don’t stop to talk to them.
All I want to do is find something. Or better yet, someone.
It takes me another ten minutes to open the right door.
Cassandra is hiding from the party, standing alone on a quiet balcony.
Our last conversation, but mostly how it ended, is still not sitting well with me.
I don’t want her to be mad at me. I don’t want her to misunderstand me, either.
I still need to ask about the sketches and clear things out.
“Listen, Cass. I’m really sorry,” I start, but she cuts me off immediately. “I know you’re mad at me, but I didn’t mean to come off as pushy or rude.”
“I’m not mad at you.” She shakes her head, her hair slipping from her shoulder to her chest. “I’m mad at myself.”
“Why?”
“Shooting too high without noticing it.” She swallows hard. “I should’ve known.”
“There’s nothing wrong with what you asked me. I actually—”
“It’s not about that; it’s about how…” Cassandra sighs, exasperated. “I knew this would happen, but I still insisted, anyway.”
“You’re allowed to have feelings.” I frown, but before I can ask why she feels so strongly about me rejecting her, she cuts me off.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“But I wanted to say that—”
“No, I’m over it,” Cassandra insists, but it feels dishonest. “Besides, I’m with Caleb. I actually really like him, you know? And I think that he might like me too.”
I blink, not knowing whether I should break it to her that he probably doesn’t. Caleb will never consider her like I do, like I could if only she’d let me speak .
“What did you want, anyway? You were supposed to tell me something, weren’t you?”
“I…”
Lucia .
Right.
“I have to ask you something.”
“What’s going on?”
A warm breeze stirs the hem of her dress. She pulls it down quickly, a delicate flush creeping over her nose and beneath her eyes when she catches me watching. Whatever sadness was lingering there a moment ago is gone now.
Cassandra’s gown is made of a lighter pink shade than Kayla’s, but the two girls are very obviously matching.
Hers is all silk and lace, falling against her tights in a way that’s a little more revealing.
Gold stiletto heels, making me want to smile.
Lucia used to hate those because they made her calves hurt.
I wonder how Cassandra does it, if she pushes through the pain just to feel beautiful.
She’s a pretty girl .
I’ve always thought so. It’s undeniable, a bit like breathing.
I blink, dragging my gaze from the length of her dress back to her face.
You’re flirting.
I was flirting too .
And maybe… Maybe I really was.
Maybe it wasn’t all that harmless, like I first thought.
“Can I ask you a question and be sure you’ll be totally honest with me?” I hear myself say it, but the words feel almost foreign.
All I can focus on is how pretty she looks.
Why is this all I’m thinking about?
“Is this about Pepé?” she asks. “Listen, I know I shouldn’t keep him for as long as I do, but I really like having him around. We sleep together every night, and I really love him.”
“Cassandra, I don’t care if you’re keeping my dog for longer than a day or two. You’re living next door.” I wet my lips, hiding my hands in my pockets. “I trust you with him as long as he comes back to me at some point.”
Pepé is still my dog, after all.
“So, what is this about?” She takes a step forward, and I motion towards the railing.
“Can I trust you?” I ask again. “I just need to know you won’t lie or keep something from me.”
I need to be certain of it.She can’t lie to me. At least, not about my sister.It’s the one deal breaker I didn’t even know existed between us until now.
“What kind of question is that?” Cassandra wets her lips, fixing the glossy edge of them with her fingers. “Of course, you can.”
Her eyes lock with mine.
My heart skips a beat.
You know this girl; she won’t lie to you.
You like her.
I exhale sharply, pushing the thought away, and take the folded paper from my front pocket. Cassandra frowns, unfolding the sketch carefully. I watch her trace the doodles with her gaze, but there’s hardly any recognition on her face.
“This is a drawing that looks a lot like one of Lucia’s sketches.
See the planets? That’s her trademark because she was obsessed with space.
” I swallow hard. “Someone commissioned a jewelry box with engravings drawn by her. It seemed weird that a random person had this lying around when my sister was so… oddly possessive about her stuff.”
“Okay.” She listens attentively, her green eyes clouded with confusion.
“When I checked to see who placed the commission, your address was on it,” I explain.
Cassandra’s frown deepens. Her eyelashes flutter back to me. “Beckett, I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
And then it hits me.
She doesn’t know that I work with Well in carpentry .She knows about the farm. I’ve told Antony about being an apprentice. His mom probably knows it too, because Well must have mentioned it to her. But nobody else does, precisely because I don’t like to brag.Not even to Cassandra.
“You—” I cut my speech short, feeling my chest tighten. “You don’t recognize any of these?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t even know Lucia could draw, Beckett. We really weren’t that close, your sister and I, remember? I’ve told you that before.”
“Are you sure?” I press, my eyes flicking back to the paper now. “The commission was meant as a birthday gift.”
“Well, my birthday is coming up in December.” She hands me the paper again. “But I don’t buy gifts for myself, you know.”
I clear my throat, feeling light-headed. “Your birthday?”
It takes Cassandra another second to respond.
“December 25th, yes.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I notice how my hands are shaking. She notices, too, because she places her hand over mine. “Maybe someone ordered it as a prank?”
“And put your address on the order?” I scoff. “The thing is paid in full, Cassandra. Do you know how often that ever happens in a small town like ours?”
“Well, I… I don’t live alone in that house,” her voice drops, as if she’s afraid to say it out loud. “Maybe my dad commissioned it, or…”
My gaze flickers to her face. Her skin has gone pale, her breath hitching.
“He said he…” she trails off, lost in thought. “But he wouldn’t.”
I lean closer. “He?”
A spell breaks.
Cassandra stumbles back two steps. I reach for her, but she stops me with a single look. “I’m sorry. I have to… I have to go.”
“You have to go?” I echo, confusion gripping me. “What’s going on? Who were you just talking about?”
She hesitates, then exhales shakily, “My brother, Beckett.”
“Your brother?” I echo as my stomach drops, a feeling of nausea overcoming me. “Did your brother order the jewelry box as a gift for your birthday?”
It all seems so obvious after I say it out loud.
“Yeah. Just please, let me deal with it, okay?” she pleads. “I won’t let him get away with doing this to you, but don’t come after me, or else he’ll just see us together and freak out.”
Cassandra squeezes her eyes shut, pain flickering across her face, and for some reason it makes me want to bolt.
She turns around abruptly, opens the door, and disappears into the crowded room.
But I won’t let this go so quietly. Not without confronting the one person who clearly has it out for me tonight.
Nathaniel Rivera somehow found my sister’s drawings. Something that was personal to her.
Did he come into her room?
Why would he do that?
I don’t know. All I’m certain of is that he wanted Cassandra to have them, too.
A piece of Lucia as a gift.