Page 46 of Happy Wife

Where are you? Ardell is in your kitchen.

“I have to go.” I turn for my car, but then stop and turn back. “I’m sorry I slapped your car. It’s been—”

“Don’t give it another thought. I’ll call you if I find something.”

“I hope you do.” And then I remember that Perry is grieving the loss of his friend. “I’m sorry about Dean.”

Perry tips his head in appreciation.

“Please call me if you find anything.”

“I certainly will,” he says.

I watch Perry get back in his car and wind along the narrow road, then climb into my own car, shaking my head. I’m puttingmy faith in the hands of some random guy who has been following me. Will hired a private investigator in secret, and now the private investigator is dead, and Will is still missing.

What were you into, Will Somerset?

I thought I’d feel better once I tracked down more information on Dean Morrison. Somehow, I feel so much worse.

Chapter21

Before

Somewhere south of the British Virgin Islands lies Nevis, a small, tropical island that—with its nearly thirty-six-square-mile footprint—is three times the size of Winter Park, Florida. And until Will suggested we take a trip there, I had never even heard of it. One Friday night, he called from the car to announce we were leaving in the morning.

“Pack a bag,” he said. “Or don’t. We’ll buy you whatever you want when you get there. I called in a favor with a party planner here in town—Autumn Kensington. She’s booked everything.”

I laughed a little. His energy was becoming contagious. “When will we be back? I have work on Monday.”

“Tell them you’re going to need the week.”

“That’s not really how that works.” I chuckled.

“Then, I’ll call the head of the museum. She’s a friend.”

It’s all just so easy when you’re Will Somerset.

I hadn’t seen him in weeks, even though I was standing in his kitchen when he phoned. He had been staying in a hotel a mile from the Orange County Courthouse for some big trial. Every morning, he reported to the courthouse for a grueling full day of trial, and then he went back to his hotel room to prep witnesses,text me good night, and go to bed. All just to wake up and do it all over again.

But after two weeks of that cycle on repeat, all his hard work paid off, and he had won a king’s ransom for a client with a traumatic brain injury.

Will didn’t like to think of the end of any trial as a time for some big revelry. He didn’t win the Super Bowl. Someone had been hurt. But his advocacy meant that his client would be able to afford round-the-clock care, and that was good news. Knowing someone would live a better life because of his help was the part of his job that he loved.

“Also, get dressed,” he added. “We’re going out to celebrate.”

I don’t know why I thought “we” meant Will and me. But as I met him in the driveway, he scooped me up, kissed my cheek, and said, “Come on. Fritz is hosting a little celebratory cocktail party at his house.”

Right.

I had never been to Fritz’s house before, but I had passed by it countless times without knowing it until now. The Spanish Colonial mansion was hard to miss, situated across the street from the Winter Park Golf Course, a public course just a stone’s throw from Park Avenue. This was one of the oldest and most storied parts of Winter Park. If you headed south down the street, you could find the city’s oldest church, established in 1884, or the location of the condominium Kenneth Lay rented when he was still working for Florida Gas Transmission—long before his infamous Enron days.

Fritz’s property was huge—a monument to the Hall family’s generational wealth. On just over three acres of some of the most coveted land in the city, the main house was tucked back against Lake Osceola, behind a gated entrance and meticulously maintained hedgerows.

I was struck by how much of a party this was—the valets and white lanterns hanging from the trees signaled that this was more than a casual get-together. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought we were at a wedding venue.

Christ, Will. Don’t you know any normal people?

A smattering of applause and cheers erupted as we entered the courtyard, and Will rested a humble hand on his chest, wavingthem away with the other hand. The adoration in the eyes of his colleagues was a mix of respect and awe, and before I knew it, I had lost Will to the crowd, leaving me standing on the sidelines.

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