“He watched her. Every move she made. I thought he’d hit on her. I didn’t realize they already knew each other, not until she said she’d baked Graham’s favorite dessert.”

“Pineapple upside-down cake.”

“That’s right. She made his favorite. Now, move.”

I took another tiny step. Misty and I were harder to kill when we were separated.

Sweat ran into my eyes, and I blinked away the sting. “That must have been awful for you.”

“You want to know the awful part?” Her expression darkened. “I thought Willa and Liz were my friends. But they asked Graham’s chickee—” Sumner pointed the shotgun at Misty “when they knew I’d be here.”

“Liz didn’t know about Misty.”

“As if I'd believe you.”

What had I ever done?

Whatever it was, Sumner didn’t appreciate it. Once again, she pointed the shotgun at me.

I swallowed. Keep her talking. Hope someone comes. “You stole Perry’s gun to kill Graham?”

“Actually, no. Liz mentioned the gun at dinner, and I was so furious with her for inviting Misty that I decided to take it. I stole the gun to cause trouble. To make the Brandts worry.” She rolled her neck. “When the party ended, Graham and I went back to our cabin. He claimed he'd forgotten his glasses at the gazebo. I knew better. He left them on purpose, so he'd have a reason to go back and talk to her.” She shifted the gun's barrel to Misty.

She’d been holding the gun for long minutes. Was it getting heavy?

I didn’t notice a shotgun’s weight when I was shooting, but to simply stand and hold one? I’d get tired.

Then again, Sumner had adrenalin and a healthy dose of crazy fueling her.

“I followed him and heard what she told him. She's pregnant. With Graham’s baby. He knew I wanted children. More than anything. I begged. I pleaded. I even tried to trick him. But no baby. Not for me. Then he knocks up a caterer? A caterer named Misty. With a name like that, she should have been a stripper.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” said Misty.

“Shut up!” Sumner pointed the barrel at Misty’s chest.

Misty really needed to keep quiet.

“Sumner, please, don’t do this. You don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“What would you know?”

“Henry cheated on me. He made me a laughingstock. He slept with Prudence Davies.” I’d have rather he slept with ten caterers than with her.

Sumner lowered the gun. Slightly.

Encouraged, I continued. “He slept with Kitty Ballew and Madeline Harper and—”

“Did he rub his indiscretions in your face?”

“All the time.”

The gun dropped another inch. “What did you do?”

“I counted the days until I could file for divorce.”

“What stopped you?”

“We agreed to wait until Grace was out of high school.”

“Your daughter.”

“Yes.”