Page 10

Chapter Ten

“Well, that was certainly… something,” Abraham said as Rebecca departed the stage on a swell of gossip. “Uh, next up we have… the maid of honor, Cassidy Smith!”

Kennedy’s cousin took the stage, her voice shaky and her paper crinkling through the mic as she started her speech. Rebecca was a bright spot in the darkness as she moved from table to table, stopping to speak with guests, waving to other members of important families as she approached their table like a tropical hurricane. The closer she got, the more Richie vibrated and Steven turned to stone.

“Richard, Steven, don’t you two look cozy and conspiratorial this evening,” Rebecca said in a low voice with a sharp smile, leaning down to emphasize her words. A soft cloud of bright citrus and earthy cinnamon notes wafted toward Kate, subtle and rich. “Still plotting to go behind my back to the trust board and convince them to sell Hempstead Island to build your ridiculous luxury resort? You see how well such an endeavor has turned out for Kennedy.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Steven said in a tone that made it clear how many times he’d tried—and failed—to convince Rebecca otherwise. “It’s a sound investment opportunity and my buyer is willing to pay cash up front, sight unseen.”

“Yes, your buyer ,” Rebecca said with a sneer. “I know the type of buyer you’re talking about, and I’d rather see Hempstead Island sink into the ocean than give a filthy little man like that claim to our historical fame. Does the cash come in sweaty, glitter-stained one-dollar bills?”

“Rico is a reputable businessman—”

“Oh, sure, the illustrious owner of the Diamond Cabaret, wanted at all the most exclusive clubs in the Islands—”

“You can’t do this!” Richie burst out, slamming his hands on the table and drawing attention. Even Cassidy paused her speech, looking down at her paper at a loss for words.

“Control yourself, Richard,” Rebecca said in a voice dripping with disdain. “You’re clearly drunk and you’re embarrassing the Hempstead name. It’s bad enough Kennedy invited her cousin. Debt up to her eyeballs from a food truck, of all things, and she had the nerve to show up here begging for handouts and making ludicrous accusations. It’s no wonder Alexi cut her off finally. The girl can barely hold herself together. Look at her.”

Rebecca made a gesture toward Cassidy stammering her way through the speech, and something in the movement triggered a memory for Kate. That same floral pattern, reaching out a perfectly manicured hand to slap Cassidy. She smothered her gasp in her hands. Rebecca had been the one arguing with Cassidy in the garden, and judging by her comment about debt up to her eyeballs, Kate could imagine what Cassidy had been begging for. But what kind of accusations would a woman like Rebecca Hempstead find ludicrous?

“It’s not fair, Aunt Rebecca,” Richie said, his tone approaching a plaintive whine. “You can’t cut the rest of the family out like this. There are rules, requirements for the inheritance.”

Rebecca spread her hands wide. “It’s already done, Richard. The inspector from the historical society is here this weekend as my personal guest to sign off on all the paperwork, and then it goes to the board for the final vote. I’ve already got the five-three majority I need. And do you know what that means?”

“That you’re a heartless, soul-sucking bitch?” Richie guessed.

The smile she gave him was so cruelly dismissive that Kate felt the whiplash just sitting next to him. Rebecca leaned forward, pressing her hands against the table, her nails digging into the flesh-colored linens. “It means I’ll never have to hear another one of your coma-inducing inheritance pitches ever again. I’ll never have to field another lawsuit from the loser side of the family, whining that they deserve money for nothing. I’ll never have to attend another gala for goddamn feral cats because Kennedy insisted on picking a charitable organization close to her heart. Not a single one of you has worked a decent day in your lives, and you represent everything my grandfather stood against. Maybe now you’ll finally get off your ass and do something useful, Richard.”

“Holy shit,” Kate breathed as Richie deflated in his chair like a balloon with a leak. Was anyone actually happy this wedding weekend was happening? Was this how all wealthy families conducted themselves? Kate was suddenly glad to know she’d never have the wealth to find out.

“Who are you?” Rebecca asked, looking at her in annoyance.

“Oh,” Kate said in surprise, trying to stand and rattling the table when her chair got stuck. “Ms. Hempstead, it’s such a pleasure. I’m Kate? Kate Valentine?”

“Is that a question? Are you unsure of your own identity?” Rebecca asked.

“No?” Kate said, feeling turned upside down. “I… You… I’m Kate Valentine. The writer?”

Should she have brought a copy of her book for reference? Maybe strike a pose like her author photo on the back cover? But Rebecca’s expression relaxed, as if Kate were no longer a threat. “I see, one of Spencer’s people. Welcome.”

Was she playing coy? Or did she not want her nephew to know she’d personally invited Kate for the weekend?

“I’m sure we’ll get a chance to connect later—” Kate started, but the lawyer had kept his peace too long.

“It’ll go to court, Rebecca, you have to know that,” Steven burst out. “Richie is right, you can’t make these kinds of decisions unilaterally.”

“Bring your best, Steven. I’ll make mincemeat of you by lunchtime.” Rebecca snapped her fingers at a passing waiter. “Bring me a glass of champagne. The Dom Pérignon.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, miss,” said the waiter, juggling a tray of dessert plates that Kate eyed with interest. “We only have sparkling wine for the guests this evening. Will that do?”

“No, that will not do,” Rebecca said, turning the force of her irritation on the poor man.

“I’m sorry, it’s house orders,” he said, shrinking. “The Dom is for the bride only?”

“Do you know who gave you those orders?” Rebecca asked in a soft voice that was still razor sharp. When the waiter hesitated, she lifted her brows slightly in impatience. Whoever did her Botox injections did an exquisite job of allowing her forehead to move. “I did, because this is my house . I am Rebecca Hempstead. So if I want a glass of Dom, you will find me a fucking glass of Dom, or the next plate you serve will come with fries and a super-size drink.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hempstead,” the man stammered, stepping back and nearly colliding with another passing server. “I’ll, uh, I’ll ask at the bar.”

“Never mind,” Rebecca snapped, dismissing him with a curt wave. “I’ll get it myself.”

“Oh, Ms. Hempstead!” Kate called, her chair still trapping her. “Ms. Hempstead, if we could just speak for a moment—”

But Rebecca had disappeared in the direction of the bar as Cassidy stepped away from the microphone in relief. Everyone clapped as Kennedy took her place, giving a soft smile that sparkled under the harsh spotlight, and Kate was forced to slump back quietly into her seat. Kennedy’s diamond pendant winked along with the crystals on her dress, making her look like she was made of starlight.

“Friends, family, loved ones,” she began, her voice tremulous. “Thank you so much for joining us on this magical weekend. It means so much to have everyone we love and admire here to celebrate with us.”

She looked down at her speech, hesitating just long enough that the stretch of silence was punctuated by the clink of forks and a few smoth ered coughs. Kennedy blinked, seeming to collect herself, and set the paper down, squinting into the spotlight.

“This place means so much to me. It’s the place where I feel closest to my parents. They were married here, as you can see from your table arrangements. And even though they can’t be here today physically, being here in this ballroom, full of so many happy childhood memories, makes me feel like they’re here now, watching over us.”

Kate looked up at the lightning crackling across the dome, wondering how any child could have happy memories of such a place. Maybe there were fewer stuffed gazelles back then.

“It’s so important to me that this place—the Manor, the railroad Great-Grandpa Russell built to get around the island, the hunting lodge designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, all of it—is cared for by people who understand its history. Who love what it represents, and will cherish it as much as I have cherished it throughout my life.”

It sounded like Richie wasn’t the only one upset about Rebecca Hempstead’s little coup. Kate wondered how much of a lock on the board of trustees Rebecca really had, if even Kennedy couldn’t back her deal to hand over the island and the trust to the historical society. Kennedy had thwarted her once; Kate wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to do it again.

“Thank you everyone for making the trip, and here’s to a wonderful, magical, life-changing weekend!” Kennedy said, looking down with a frown. “Oh, where did my champagne glass go?”

“Oh shit ,” Kate muttered, the forgotten glass still on the table. “I’ve got it here!”

Kate held it up and Cassidy hurried down off the dais to retrieve it. She looked startled, and borderline angry with Kate. Or maybe that was just the runny mascara effect. “What are you doing with Ken’s glass?”

“Long story,” Kate said, waving it off. “Here you go, ready to cheers!”

The woman took the glass and carried it back up to the dais with both hands, like she was afraid she was going to drop it. She handed it up to Kennedy, who smiled as she lifted it.

“Cheers!” she proclaimed, taking a healthy drink that the rest of the room followed.

Kennedy sat down and handed the microphone to Spencer, who adjusted his glasses and tugged at the ends of his jacket as he stood, holding a small stack of note cards. Spencer had always had an intense fear of public speaking, and the few times he’d spoken at her book events he’d had to write out his speeches word for word, including when to pause for breaths.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome,” he said in a formal voice. “I just wanted to say a few quick words about my blushing bride here.”

“Save it for tomorrow night!” someone hollered from one of the back tables, and Spencer winced. If Kate had to guess, she would assume it was one of his less-savory cousins. “Thanks, Hap, for that. No, I just… I wanted to say how lucky I am, to have found someone like Kennedy. Someone who saw more in me than I knew I had. Someone who lifts me up on my down days, and keeps me grounded when my head wants to float off into the clouds.”

He kept reading in that slow, mechanical public speaking voice of his, listing all the ways Kennedy was his polar opposite and therefore perfect for him. Except the longer he went on, the more the speech started to feel so… familiar to Kate. She wouldn’t put it past Spencer to lift his speech from somewhere else. Coming from such a repressed household, he hadn’t told Kate that he loved her until eight months into their relationship. The words stirred up a sick feeling in her stomach. She definitely, definitely knew the speech he was giving.

“Anyway, I know I’m going on,” Spencer said, giving Kennedy a rueful smile. “I guess I just wanted to say, it’s you and me, Kennedy. Until the tides carry us back out.”

Kate let out a sound that was something like a scream wrapped up in a gasp. It was loud, and stark, and absolutely the only sound in the room. She clapped her hand over her mouth like that might shove the thing back in where no one could hear it, but she could feel it. All the eyes in the room, on her. Watching. Waiting for the inevitable meltdown. And hooo, boy was she about to give it to them, because she finally realized where she knew those words from. Everyone in the room knew those words—at least everyone who worked on the second Loretta book.

It was the big speech Loretta gave her bar owner boyfriend, Geoff, at the end of A Dark and Stormy Murder when she tells him she loves him for the first time. It had been one of the hardest scenes Kate had ever written, because Loretta had just shared a steamy kiss with Blake when she thought the hurricane was going to rip the roof off the place. She’d been confused, pulled in two directions, torn between her on-again, off-again boyfriend and this backpacking rebel. Spencer had been furious about the kiss, demanding to know how Kate was going to justify Loretta as a cheater to her loyal readers. The conversation had shaken her up, and so she’d written Loretta’s profession of love to Geoff to placate him. But deep down, writing that scene, Kate had known irrefutably that she didn’t love Spencer anymore. The words had felt forced, hollow, imposed on her by someone else. More than anything else that happened, it signaled the beginning of the end of her relationship with Spencer.

Why would he read this now? In front of everyone? She could feel the heat of their gazes on her back, as if she had been the one to plant that speech on Spencer. Juliette Winters watched her like a hawk, waiting for her to crack.

“Kate, are you all right?” Jake asked, his touch light on her shoulder.

But it was enough to undo her entirely. She stood up so abruptly her chair tipped over, making the scene she’d been trying so desperately to avoid. Jake reached up to help but she waved him off, needing fresh air or a private corner to quietly curl up and die in. Somewhere that wasn’t this ballroom full of prying, accusing gazes. She hurried to the nearest exit, horrified faces passing in a blur as she half collided with a waiter carrying a fresh batch of drinks. She snatched a wine bottle off his tray and bolted, racing through hallway after hallway of rich old white people horrors until she couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of the rain.