James’s fiftieth birthday party was only three weeks away now, and there was still so much to be done. I wondered for the umpteenth time if it would’ve have been smarter to hold the party at a restaurant or a nice hotel, rather than at our house. I suppose I had hoped the gathering would feel more intimate at home, even though we were expecting nearly fifty guests. I just hadn’t realized how much more work would be involved.

Cocktails and light appetizers would be served on the patio out by the pool, and then we’d move inside to have dinner in the living room and dining room. A party rental company would come that day, clear out all of the furniture, and set up round tables covered with white linens, along with plates, flatware, and glasses. The catering company I’d hired would provide servers and a bartender, but I’d had to contact other vendors to provide everything from ice to a DJ to a bulk order of wine and liquor.

That morning, I stopped by the local bakery, and perused their huge binder of photographs. I settled on a square two-tiered chocolate cake with white ganache frosting decorated with sugared edible flowers. Next, I headed to the caterer, the Black Swan, and finalized the selection of appetizers. We’d decided on the dinner menu weeks ago—prime rib, asparagus drizzled with hollandaise sauce, smashed potatoes (which the caterer assured me were somehow different than mashed potatoes). It was all coming together, I realized with relief.

Now I just had to make up my mind about the photo booth, which I still thought would be fun, even if Paige thought it was over-the-top.

That’s when I realized I hadn’t spoken to Paige in several days. Not since Detective Forsythe had shown up at the front door with news that had tipped my world upside down. But, no, I reminded myself, as I pulled out my phone to call Paige. I wasn’t going to think about Hannah. Not today.

“I was just about to call you!” Paige said by way of greeting when she picked up her phone. “What’s going on with Dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mom, it’s all over social media. Some model that Dad used to date died, and they just found her body? Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Paige asked accusingly, as if any of this was my fault. “Dad was with her on the night she disappeared. Everyone keeps tagging me on the stories. There are pictures of her all over Instagram!”

I sighed. So much for escaping the topic of Hannah.

“I’m sorry, Paige—I should’ve said something. I just didn’t want to worry you about it.”

Paige snorted. “Too late for that. I’m coming home. Today.”

“No, you are not. Don’t you have a sociology exam coming up? And you can’t miss practice.”