Lies I Told(22)

We stepped into the crowd, and I turned my attention to the party. People stood around in clusters, talking and laughing. Across the lawn, Rachel played badminton with Olivia and Raj.

“Well!” Leslie clapped her hands, leading us to an outdoor bar. “Let’s get you something to drink and then we’ll make the rounds.”

She poured my parents a glass of wine each and told Parker and me to help ourselves to a cooler of sodas. Then she started the procession, leading us around the lawn and introducing us to everyone.

We met Rachel’s parents first. Her mother was attractive and slender, her hair a familiar shade of copper. When it came time to shake the hand of Rachel’s father, Harrison, I heard an echo of Harper’s confession at the beach: Rachel’s dad has a way with the Playa Hermosa housewives.

I could see it. Harrison Mercer was no balding, overweight dad. Instead his trim figure, dark hair, and bold smile gave him a George Clooney–esque charm that was probably irresistible to the bored women on the peninsula.

Liam’s father, Blake, was next. A property developer planning a green housing initiative, he and his wife also owned the Town Center.

And they were just the beginning. There were movie people and writers and tech-company owners and shareholders. Real estate managers and commercial agents and local business owners. I lost track after a while, content to smile, nod, and observe while the adults did most of the talking.

I still hadn’t spotted Logan, so I focused on the property instead, making note of security cameras, walkways, outdoor lights that were probably triggered by movement, and anything else that might help us when it came time to make our move. It had become second nature, almost instinctual, to store my observations, and I wasn’t surprised to see Parker’s eyes wandering, too.

Once the introductions had been made, Leslie Fairchild led us to a massive grill, where a silver-haired man wearing a Kiss the Cook apron stood over a bunch of smoking meat. He jumped a little when Leslie put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Warren, honey,” she said gently, “the Fontaines are here.”

There were shades of Logan in his father’s face. Warren had the same openness, the same attentiveness that made me feel like he’d been waiting all day just for us.

“Cormac!” He reached out and shook my dad’s hand. “So glad you could make it.” He turned to the rest of us. “And this must be your beautiful family.”

“That it is,” my dad said. “This is my wife, Renee, and our kids, Parker and Grace.”

Logan’s dad shook our hands and insisted we call him Warren. When it was my turn, his eyes seemed to hold mine.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said.

I laughed. “Oh no!”

His eyes radiated warmth. “I assure you that it was all good. My son seems to enjoy your company.”

My cheeks were suddenly warm. “Thank you. Where is Logan?”

Leslie looked around. “He was here a minute ago. . . . Oh, here he comes!”

Logan stepped onto the terrace, carrying a plate of raw chicken. I wondered if it was my imagination that his eyes seemed to light up when he spotted me.

“Hey! I was wondering when you were coming,” he said.

I couldn’t help but smile. Everyone else was so coy when they liked someone, so careful not to seem interested. But here was Logan, grinning at me like I’d made his day just by showing up.

I looked down at the chicken. “Need some help with that?”

“This? Nah, I’m good.” He carried the plate over to the grill.

I introduced him to my parents, and after a little small talk Leslie led them off to meet the VP of some big advertising agency.

Logan touched his dad lightly on the arm. “Need anything else?”

I don’t know why I was surprised by the concern in his voice. It was just so genuine. So real. I’d expected Warren Fairchild’s condition to put stress on the family dynamic. Instead it seemed to make them closer.

“No, no!” Warren said. “You kids go. Have fun. And if you want to gnaw on some meat, come find me.”

Logan laughed, touching his dad lightly on the back. “You’ll be the first to know, Dad.” He looked at Parker and me. “You guys up for some badminton?”





Seventeen


We traveled a gravel path to the big grassy area at the back of the property. Logan filled us in on the aftermath of the bonfire as we walked, telling us who had been busted by beach patrol the night before. I hoped he didn’t notice the tightness in Parker’s jaw, the protective gleam in his eyes when Warren Fairchild said Logan liked my company.

We stepped onto the grass, and Olivia and Raj paused their game, greeting us with waves and genuine smiles. Rachel was decidedly less enthusiastic, although she did warm up a bit for Parker.

We spent a few minutes talking before splitting into teams: me with Logan and Olivia, Parker with Raj and Rachel. The game got under way, and I told myself to forget about the con. About casing the Fairchilds’ house and the fact that I needed to get close to Logan to further my part of the job. The weather was perfect, warm and dry, a breeze blowing off the water that crashed against the cliffs below. I was allowed to have fun. It was all part of being in character.

Part of fitting in.

We played three games—Rachel, Raj, and Parker taking two out of the three—and went our separate ways. Olivia and Raj got drinks while Parker and Rachel walked toward the edge of the property, sitting on the grass that overlooked the water.