Page 241 of Hide and Keep

“I won’t,” I promise. Only the hospital.

Other than our normal exchanges during meals, I haven’t addressed the chef all week. It’s tough because every time I look at Ryan, I want to saw his hands off using a serrated knife. But I don’t want him to suspect anything. So, knowing that Ever’s safe in my bed each night that goes by with him under the same roof as her, I bide my time, waiting until some of the awkwardness from Monday night has passed. He hasn’t brought up the fancy tart thing to Ever, and to push the incident further from our minds, I haven’t either.

If he doesn’t think there’s anything unusual about the lady of the manor getting offered custom handmade dessert from a top-rated chef in the middle of the night, then neither do I.

No harm, right?

Friday morning, I’m chomping at the fucking bit to put my plan into action and get him out of the manor, so I let us sit for breakfast for once, and strike up a conversation with Arthur, asking if he ever takes out his yacht for fishing.

Ever’s the first to answer me, saying, “No, only for murder.”

“Never,” her dad scolds sharply, making me clench my fork until my knuckles turn white. “Not around mixed company, please. They don’t understand your dark humor.”

When he glances up from his food, he frowns at finding his daughter on my left instead of his right. He didn’t even notice before now. Luckily, he doesn’t question the new seating arrangement.

“I’m not joking. My mother—”

“Suffered a terrible accident while at sea. Yes, we know. Everybody in the Northeast knows. The fact she isn’t sitting at this table right now is, admittedly, a tragedy. One we don’t want people to get the wrong idea about by spreading false, damning narratives, do we?” Arthur gives her a pointed look that she just scoffs at.

To me, he says, “To answer your question, no.Burning Rudderisn’t meant for that type of recreation. Should I get the itch to throw a pole up, I charter a fishing boat.”

“I bet you get luckier out on a boat than from shore,” I say even though I have no fucking clue what I’m talking about.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never fished from shore.”

Ever’s father moves the stack of papers next to his plate around, signaling his disinterest in continuing this discussion.

“I’m the opposite.” I don’t miss the tightening of Arthur’s lips. I just ignore it. “I’ve only fished from the shore.”

“Father says that’s a poor man’s hobby.”

I twist to look at Ever. I can see the apology in her eyes, but she doesn’t voice it.

Arthur doesn’t bother denying it.

“Yeah, the craziest thing I caught was a barracuda,” I say, then turn my attention back to Arthur. “Ever try it?”

“Barracuda? No. I can’t say I have.”

“It’s been years since I’ve had it, but we threw it in a batch of ceviche.” I smack my lips that makes everybody wince.Poor man behavior.

“Sounds interesting.”

“It’s delicious.”

“Tell the chef to make you some.”

Without anyone even addressing him, the nosey chef shuffles closer to the table, asking, “Mr. Brantley, is that something you’d like me to add to tonight’s menu?”

“Hm.” I pretend to think about it before asking Arthur, “Wouldn’t you like to try some, too?”

Arthur frowns like he can’t believe I’m still talking to him, then waves me off with an unenthusiastic, “Sure.”

“Edwin?” I call, and not a moment later, the valet appears.

“Yes, sir?”

“Chef Ryan’s gonna make some ceviche tonight. Want in on it?”

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