Page 88 of The Women of Wild Hill

Sibyl grabbed a plate and piled it high with food for her aunt. The hors d’oeuvres were for an event at Bill Rogers’s house. Phoebe,who’d insisted her daughter accept the catering gig, had announced she was staying home. Killing the Meat Man had taken it out of her. Fortunately, Brigid had agreed to attend.

“So will Liam be escorting you to the gathering this evening?” Sibyl teased.

“He will.” Brigid’s defenses went up.

“I’ve never been in love,” Sibyl pressed on while her aunt stuffed her face. “What’s it like?”

“Who the hell says I’m in love?” Brigid replied with her mouth full. “Damn, this is good. I’d take your cooking over storm summoning any day.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not in love.”

“You’re lying.” Sibyl called her out. “I’m young, but I’m not dumb.”

“Fine. Then I don’t recommend love,” Brigid told her. “It’s exhausting. Physically and emotionally.”

“Maybe you should take tonight off,” Sibyl suggested slyly. “I’m a professional. I can handle the Rogers event on my own.”

“And have your mother murder me the way she killed the Meat Man?”

“She’s still blaming it on the birds.” Their laughter ended when they noticed Phoebe standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Itwasthe birds,” Phoebe insisted. This time, her sister and daughter laughed even harder. “Whatever.” Phoebe took an hors d’oeuvre and chewed it miserably.

“You did good,” Brigid told her. “That guy had to go.”

“I know,” Phoebe said. “But no more. If we keep offing rich guys one by one, someone’s going to notice before we have a chance to use the poison.”

Sibyl felt her heart sink, but she said nothing. There had to be an answer to the poison problem, and she would find it.

“So you’re in love with Liam?” she heard Phoebe ask Brigid.

“You were eavesdropping, were you?” Brigid replied. “Did you hear the part about what a nosy bitch you are?”

“I’m not joking around.” Phoebe clearly wasn’t. “You’ve got to know you’re playing with fire.”

Brigid wasn’t laughing now. “I assure you. I’ll do whatever is necessary when the time comes.”

“No one’s questioning that,” Sibyl jumped in.

But Phoebe couldn’t be put off. “No,” she agreed. “But I am getting scared. You two remind me of Mom and Calum. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“It might be too late for that,” Brigid admitted. “But at least I see it coming.”

“So did Mom,” Phoebe told her. “I don’t want to lose you. Not again. I couldn’t take it.”

“You won’t,” Brigid said. “Ipromise.”

“Fine.” Phoebe huffed. “And don’t kill anyone tonight at the party.”

“I won’t,” Brigid said. “But I can’t speak for Sibyl.”

Later, she’d wonder if the joke had been a coincidence—or proof her powers were growing.

The Man with the Golden Tongue

Someone kept yapping in her ear. Brigid wasn’t sure who it was. They’d been introduced, of course. She just didn’t give a damn about the Mattauk homeowners association or offshore tax shelters or whatever mind-numbing subject the woman had moved on to. Brigid was too busy watching Liam at the bar on the opposite side of the lawn party.