Page 37 of The Banned Books Club

Margot took it from him, turned it over and ran her thumb over the engraved letters. “Looks like a nice one,” she said and wondered, knowing how much her sister disliked Sheldon, why she’d bothered.

“Must’ve cost her a pretty penny.”

He seemed flattered she’d spend so much, so Margot couldn’t help taking some of that away from him. “Yeah, but I get the impression she makes good money.”

“Since when did you start thinking your sister’s all that?” he said with a scowl. “She might do okay for herself, but she doesn’t make anything close to what I do.”

Gia and her partner had built their business from the ground up. It hadn’t been handed to them by someone else. That was worth noting. But she wasn’t going to mention it. Sheldon didn’t like having any competition—especially when it came to her sister. “There’s no way she makes as much as you do,” she concurred even though she had no idea whether that was true. She didn’t care. She just wanted to be done with him, and if playing it this way made that more likely, she’d say almost anything.

“Do you think she’s really going to stay for the whole winter?” he asked, somewhat speculatively, as she handed back the knife.

Margot needed and wanted him to leave town so badly, she couldn’t give him a reason to stay. “Oh, no. Before you came in, she was already talking about going back.”

“How soon?”

Margot wasn’t a good liar, but she scrambled to come up with something that would make her comment completely believable. “She didn’t say when. She just mentioned the pressures of work, since the business isn’t quite shut down yet, and how she really hated to miss that photography trip she’d been planning with her business partner. I could tell it’s only a matter of time.”

He clicked his tongue. “Told you so.”

“Yes, you did,” she said and breathed a sigh of relief when he left the room, suddenly no longer concerned with whether or not she was coming to bed.

Something was wrong with her sister. The dynamic that Gia had just witnessed was...odd. Sheldon had always held more power in the relationship, and Gia had seen him abuse it over the years, but in subtler ways.

Now, the relationship was even more out of balance. Over a decade of working hard to please him, thinking he’d be happier and treat her better if only she could meet every demand, had obviously backfired. All he had to do was walk into the kitchen and suggest Margot come to bed, and her sister scrambled to obey, even though it’d looked as though she’d been about to confide something important.

What was it she’d wanted to say?

If Margot and Sheldon weren’t getting along, Margot would’ve spoken up, wouldn’t she? Why would she holdthatback? She knew Gia didn’t like him.

It was only nine fifty when she got home, but except for the kitchen light, which her father had left on for her, the house was dark and quiet. She figured she’d eventually get used to going to bed early, but if she tried to sleep now, with the anger and resentment she was feeling toward Sheldon boiling in her blood, she’d just stare at the ceiling for the next two hours.

She decided to pour herself a glass of wine, get in the hot tub and watch a movie on her laptop while she was outside. So she washed her face, brushed her teeth, piled her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, put on her bikini and searched Netflix for a series she wanted to watch. After deciding on the latest true crime offering, she took her laptop, a glass and a bottle of wine out with her.

After she removed the thick foam cover, steam roiled from the surface of the water and wafted toward the black expanse overhead, and a quick check showed the thermometer at a toasty 103 degrees. Relieved that she wouldn’t be sitting out in the cold like she had on previous nights when she’d come out to get some air, she set up her laptop so she’d only need to press Play, pulled off her Alaska sweatshirt and kicked her flip-flops to one side before climbing in.

The heat felt so good, and she closed her eyes as she sank beneath the water and rested her head on the lip of the hot tub for a few minutes, relaxing. She’d just sat up and poured some wine when her gaze landed on the chaise where she normally sat.

There was a big rock on it, which was strange. Who would’ve put that there? she wondered. These days, her parents rarely came into the backyard. It’d gotten too cold outside. A professional handled the pool, and since her mother’s diagnosis, a yard service had taken over the mowing and trimming from her dad. Gia had wondered why Sheldon had never offered to lend a hand. She knew Margot would’ve done everything she could to help if it’d beenhismother who was battling a life-threatening disease. But maybe he was too busy.

Spotting something white sticking out from beneath the rock, she got out to see what it was.

Paper, she realized as she approached it. Someone had put a piece of paper on the chaise and secured it with a rock so it wouldn’t blow away. But who would do that?

She looked back at the house. Every room was still dark, except the kitchen, which had the same light burning.

She peered over the fence, but Cormac’s house was dark, too. There wasn’t so much as a porch light on there. Either he wasn’t home or, like her parents, he’d already gone to bed.

“Weird,” she muttered and dried her hands on her cast-off sweatshirt, since she hadn’t bothered to bring out a towel, before lifting the rock.

It was a note. And it was addressed to her.

Gia,

We’ve had to live with what happened in high school for nearly two decades. That’s a long time. I remember confronting you over it at school and that memory makes me cringe. I acted so badly. If you didn’t deserve what I said, I’m sorry.

But I’m not going to lie—I still find myself torn and confused as to who might be telling the truth. My father insists you were out to ruin him, and I don’t have any real reason to doubt him. His story makes as much sense as yours does. Then there’s love and loyalty, of course, and what I want to believe—and it certainly isn’t that my father could do what you accused him of doing.

Will you take the time to talk to me now that I’m calm and will actually listen? I realize it must be a hard subject for you, especially now, with what’s happening in your own family. But I don’t know whether to hold my father accountable for that night or continue to pity him as someone accused of something he didn’t do.

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