Page 90 of The Voice We Find

By the time I pull into the reserved parking space on the east side of the winery, I’ve listened to half the memos Gabby sent me through the Bluetooth connection in August’s car. No matter the memo, her voice always stirs something inside me. A giggle, a swoon, a tear or two, a desire to reach through the recording and pull her close. She’s just begun to share the details of the day her family loaded into a train car to visit a village they hadn’t originally planned on when I see an all-too-familiar silver Mercedes G-Wagon parked in the main lot in front of the estate.

Why on earth would Clinton be here at this hour?

Did my brother get home from his trip ahead of schedule? Are they having a drink? I suppose it’s possible. It’s not like I know anything about my brother’s social habits.

Still, I can’t ignore the red-flag feeling in my gut that something is off. Just as I think it, I see Clinton stroll out the front door, carrying a small black duffle bag in his hand. Even though I’m mostly sheltered from his view, I slink all the way down in my seat, feeling the hammer of my heartbeat against my ribs. I spare a single glance to see if he’s noticed August’s sedan, but if he has, he’s paying it no mind as he climbs into the driver’s seat of his fancy high-roller SUV.

Even after I hear the roar of his obnoxious engine, I stay put,trying to make sense of his presence. Several scenarios play out in my active imagination at once, but before I give myself over to any one assumption, I need to find Natalie.

I speed-walk down the path that runs between the house and the tasting room in search of her when a faint meow pulls my attention to the pool area.

Natalie’s there, in all her grace and elegance, strolling through the gated spa oasis on this cold November night in a plum-colored tracksuit with gold reflective stripes on each pant leg. Phantom is following her like he’s a well-trained puppy and not a socially anxious stray who hates the water.Or so I thought.

In the aqua hue of the pool lights, I watch as he jumps onto the chaise lounge next to where my sister-in-law pushes up her pant legs and carefully sits on the edge of the Jacuzzi.

“Natalie?”

Her back is to me when I enter, but she’s either wearing earbuds or she can’t hear me over the bubbling spa. On closer inspection, she appears to be typing something on her phone.

The outside air is cold, and my sweatshirt is hardly thick enough to ward off the chill, but I slip through the pool gate anyway, marveling at the luxuriousness of it all from the inside. As if he’s suddenly on security duty for the winery, my cat alerts Natalie to my presence.

“Is this where I accuse you of catnapping?” It’s a lame joke, I know.

Natalie stares at me as if she’s unsure of her defense. “I only let him out because he cries every time I pass the pool house door. I can’t bear it.” As if on cue, Phantom drags his fluffy tail along her back. Little manipulator. “I worried he’d try to jump the fence the first time I brought him in with me, but he doesn’t seem to mind being near the water.”

I chuckle at that. “I think it’s you he likes.”

She pets his back. “He’s sweet. I always wanted a cat.”

I stop myself from asking why she doesn’t have one. I know the answer. Speaking of which. “Did, uh, did Jasper get back from his trip early?”

She looks at me oddly. “No, why?”

I open my mouth to answer her, only to realize I have no clue what I’m answering. I saw Clinton walk out the front door.The front door. He wasn’t sneaking around or even trying to be discreet. He had to have been invited inside, right? And if Jasper’s still gone, the only possible person who would have been with him inside the house was ... Natalie.

I don’t want to believe the obvious conclusion my brain is creating, but the circumstantial evidence is not looking good. Then again, accusing my sister-in-law of having an affair with my brother’s friend after we’ve only recently found some common ground will likely kill whatever relationship we’ve gained. No, I need to tread carefully. If she trusts me, she’ll confide in me. And if she confides in me, then maybe I can help her. Or at least point her in the right direction.

I glance down at her track pants that are currently rolled up to her knees. Certainly not the kind of wardrobe one might wear while having an illicit affair, right?

“Want to join me? The water’s nice, even if the company is so-so.”

I study her curiously. “Was that a joke?”

She laughs without humor. “If you have to ask, it probably doesn’t qualify.”

She pats the heated tile beside her, and I notice the washed-out tint of her skin and the shadowy half-moons under her eyes. Both have become more pronounced over the last few weeks.

I slip off my shoes and socks and roll up my jeans. And then I lift up a silent prayer for help with this conversation as I take a seat and lower my legs into the Jacuzzi. She’s right; the warm water feels heavenly as I swish my cold feet back and forth.

“There are towels warming in the wicker armoire over there for afterward,” she adds.

“I bet you’ll be thrilled to have your pool house back after I leave.”

She lifts her dainty feet out of the water for all of two seconds before dunking them in again. “Actually, it’s been nice sharing the property with another female.” It takes me a moment to recognize the subtle compliment she’s just paid me. “Although, it feels likeyou’re hardly around much anymore. You have a fuller social life than I did back in high school.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. You were Miss Popularity in high school,” I say, recalling the prom queen herself. “A trendsetter, too. Did you know that when you left for senior prom in that white glitter dress, I tried to replicate it using my mom’s favorite white linens?”

She whips her head in my direction. “You did not.”

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