Good Rich People(83)

He grasps around the pool, then grunts, removes his arm from the water, shakes it out. Little droplets sting my flesh.

“You really think that I’ve had someone murdered, don’t you?” I perch carefully on the edge of the fountain, close enough to smell his backwater scent. “And I’ve called you here, because I know you’ll never do anything about it. Because even if you can see it, even if you can say it, you can never believe that someone you know could kill another person.”

His skin crinkles as he tries to look at me but is blinded by the sun. “I don’t know you.”

“No.” I flick the water with my index finger. “You don’t.”



* * *





    ?THE PLUMBER FINISHES his work and I sit on the edge of the fountain, lost in the glow, when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Oh!”

I turn and see the new tenant standing at the top of the stairs. She has coltish legs, a neat gray shirt. Her hair is tangled and flecked with paint. “Sorry.” I stand, move away from the fountain. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

She steps toward me gingerly. “Lyla, right?” I nod. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? With everything that’s happened?”

“Of course.” I smile. “I’m happy to have you.”

We could be friends. We could be whatever we want.

What do we want?





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


This book literally wouldn’t exist without my editor, Jen Monroe, who provides the perfect combination of trust and encouragement.

Thank you to my agent, Sarah Bedingfield, and the team at LGR, for unending support.

To the team at Berkley: Loren Jaggers, Stephanie Felty, Fareeda Bullert, Natalie Sellars, and Candice Coote.

And special thanks to the benefits system in England, for supporting my late husband and, consequently, me. These systems save lives and are desperately needed everywhere.