The Winters(65)

“I talked to Dani this morning,” he said, kissing the side of my head.

I turned around to face him. “And? Did she mention the account?”

“No. But she was flinty and defensive when I asked about Claire. They are fighting, so I think we have our culprit.”

“Did you ask her about those weird messages?”

“Not outright. I just opened a channel of communication, as they say. Good God, teenage girls terrify me. They hate each other today, but they’ll be best friends tomorrow. Besides, the pranking seems to have stopped.”

“You checked?”

“Nothing in the past couple days. Let’s let it go for now. Okay?”

I turned back around just as Dani climbed into the truck beside Gus.

“Jesus Christ, she’s not supposed to go with him,” Max said, taking out his phone.

I covered it with my hand. “Max, just . . . let her.”

I was trying to keep what I felt was a precarious peace. The wedding was only days away. I still had the naive belief that afterwards I’d be imbued with powers I lacked before marrying Max, making me better equipped to tackle any demons that might arise, hers, mine, or ours.



* * *



? ? ?

I was down in the boathouse, laying the last coat of varnish over the stencil, when Dani texted me to say the dress had finally arrived from the seamstress, and not a day to spare. Without replying, I threw my brush down and sprinted to the house, completely forgetting the force field Dani had erected around her. I ran past the party-rental people rolling tables and carting chairs out of their truck, skidded across the foyer, and raced up the stairs. I entered Dani’s room without knocking, without waiting for an invitation, just as she was hanging the long white garment bag in her closet, the dress still zipped inside.

“Um, hello,” she said.

“Let’s have a look!” I said, lunging for the bag.

Dani yelped, slapping at my hands. “Whoa! What have you been doing with those?”

I looked down at my fingers. Brown varnish coated my nail beds and settled deep into the creases of my knuckles.

“Go and soak those gross paws and don’t come near me until they’re absolutely fucking clean.”

I stuck my hands into my pockets. “Sorry. I got so excited. The seamstress really cut it close.”

“No, we were cutting it close. She went above and beyond. My mother would suggest that we send her something nice in appreciation.”

“Yes, of course. Let’s do that.”

My mother. I suddenly felt grubby and uncouth. Of course Rebekah would suggest that. Dani gently punched the puffy bag into the closet, then almost shut the door on Maggie. She was batting around a dried rose petal fallen from the bouquet Max had bought for her, now resting stems-up in her garbage pail.

I brought up Claire in hopes she might talk to me about her recent troubles.

“So . . . what time is Claire coming tomorrow?”

“She’s not.”

“But wasn’t she going to help you with hair and makeup?”

“We had a fight or whatever. It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow’s not my special day.”

“I thought maybe you’d enjoy yourself more if you could bring someone. Are there other friends you can ask?”

She turned to me, her eyes liquid with sadness. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? He doesn’t want me to have any friends. Not Claire, not Maggie, not Gus, not even you.”

I took a step back. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who do you think? My beloved father, Senator Winter.”

Her voice was laden with conviction, her face set for battle, lips pursed, chin quivering, a statue of lovely defiance. Were my hands not so dirty I would have grabbed her face to drive home my full-throated rebuttal.

“Dani. Dani. What are you talking about? I don’t know a father on earth who loves his daughter as much as Max loves you. And I . . . I feel quite a lot of love for you, too,” I said, choking up, because it felt true. I might just love this torturous and tortured little brat.

“That’s nice to hear,” she said. “I wish I believed it.”

“Oh, Dani. You can believe it. I know this wedding has been hard for you—”

“He fired Gus.”

“He didn’t fire him. It’s more like a transfer. And you’ll still get to see him when you visit the horses.”

“Ha! You’ll believe anything he tells you. He fired him because of me. Daddy said he didn’t like how Gus acted around me, but I told him Gus never did anything wrong. He was my friend. He protected me. He taught me horses. He taught me to shoot and fish. He was teaching me how to drive. He was my only friend here.”

“I’m your friend here, too.”

She studied my face for a moment. “Can you please leave me alone right now?”

I looked over at the closet door. “Dani, I’m quite worried about you. I think I know what’s been—”

“Please go. I’ll be all right. I’m just tired all of a sudden.”

I stood there.

“I mean it. I’m all right. I say crazy things sometimes. Just go.”

“Okay. But I want you to know that I’m here for you. I care about you. Your father cares about you. We care very much.”