Page 44 of The Bridesmaid

As we hit the peak of the island, a heavy building rises up from the jungle, in all its colonial glory. A set of quad bikes, to meet guests once the roads are complete, sit quietly out of commission to one side of the approach.

I take a steadying breath, but can already feel the sweat prickle my palms.

Fortune House. A big gray stone box of memories.

Beside me, Georgia slides a slim, cool hand into mine, and squeezes. She always looks great in humidity, her skin glittering with a faint golden sheen, her hair holding its neat ringlets, the blouse and culotte combo crisply immaculate. I reach a hand to check my bouncy chestnut hair has retained its volume.

‘The house is still here,’ she says quietly.

‘Until the end of time,’ I tell her.

We both smile. This is a little joke between us. Dad used to get excited about the single-mindedness of the first Kensingtons. How they built these stocky stone walls with their mean little scatter ofsquare windows, and low slate roof. And made a tough-bladed lawn of crabgrass in the melting heat.

He’d brag about how smart the shaded undercroft was, perforating the big stone house at the base with even little arches. Designed to keep the servants cool and get more work out of them.

And he loved telling guests how the grand curving stone steps, fortress-sized door, and hardwood plantation shutters would last until the end of time.

I hear a sigh of annoyance and flick to Petra, dressed, as usual, to steal the show.Myshow.

‘I don’t get why you love Petra so much,’ I tell Georgia irritably. ‘I can think of plenty of girls who could have been the tall blonde in the line-up.’

‘She always shows up on time, always looks good, and never complains on shoots,’ says Georgia crisply. ‘If they were all like her, my job would be a lot easier.’ She glances at me. ‘And Petra never bothered with me at school.’

I make a high little laugh. ‘I don’t dislike her because ofschool. She’s trying to get her claws into Dad.’

‘I’d say she’s done a lot more than tried,’ says Georgia.

‘You know Petra doesn’t like you, right?’ I mutter. ‘She’s jealous because you’re Dad’s favorite.’

Georgia takes in Fortune House with her clear, clever eyes. ‘Girls like Petra never like me,’ she says. ‘Can’t say I mind.’

We stop outside the house, and as Georgia begins announcing the busy schedule of photoshoots and cake tasting, Holly requests she absent herself to debrief with her assistant.

‘We have aschedule,’ says Georgia, razor-sharp brows descending.

‘She can take twenty minutes,’ I tell Georgia. But as Holly and her assistant vanish out of sight, I lower my voice so only Georgia can hear.

‘Holly Stone,’ I say. ‘Check her out, would you?’

‘What’s to check out? Mark vetted her, right?’

I wrinkle my nose. ‘Maybe it’s just her dress sense but … something doesn’t seem right. It’s like she’s … looking for something. A Kensington always knows, right? We can smell out vipers.’

Unexpectedly, I feel Ophelia’s hot little body move in to the side of me. Her freckled skin is pink in the heat, clashing with the tropical bird color-combo of her bright turban and palm-leaf pantsuit.

‘You OK?’ her eyes are earnest.

I maneuver a big smile into place.

‘Sure!’ I tell her. ‘I’msoexcited to be back. Petra, can you get a picture of me at the door?’

Chapter Thirty-Four

HOLLY

As the other girls vanish into the house, I lead Fitzwilliam onto the grassed area we arrived on.

‘I saw a sign,’ I tell him. ‘Hot springs. They’re only a mile away. Other side of the volcano, just like in the brochure.’