The salads arrived and Mercer picked up her knife and fork. She ate a few bites as Elaine sipped water and watched her. Finally, Mercer asked, “Are you going to eat?”

“Sure.”

“So what do you know about Tessa?”

“Your maternal grandmother. She and her husband built the beach cottage on Camino Island in 1980. They were from Memphis, where you were born, and spent their vacations there. He, your grandfather, died in 1985, and Tessa left Memphis and moved to the beach. As a little girl and as a teenager, you spent long summers with her there. Again, this is what you wrote.”

“It’s true.”

“Tessa died in a sailing accident in 2005. Her body was found on the beach two days after the storm. Neither her sailing companion nor his boat was ever found. This was all in the newspapers, primarily the Times-Union out of Jacksonville. According to the public records, Tessa’s will left everything, including the cottage, to her three children, one being your mother. It’s still in the family.”

“It is. I own one-half of one-third, and I haven’t seen the cottage since she died. I’d like to sell it but the family agrees on nothing.”

“Is it used at all?”

“Oh yes. My aunt spends the winter there.”

“Jane.”

“That’s her. And my sister vacations there in the summer. Just curious, what do you know about my sister?”

“Connie lives in Nashville with her husband and two teenage girls. She’s forty and works in the family business. Her husband owns a string of frozen yogurt shops and is doing quite well. Connie has a degree in psychology from SMU. Evidently, she met her husband there.”

“And my father?”

“Herbert Mann once owned the largest Ford dealership in the Memphis area. It looks like there was some money, enough to afford Connie’s private tuition at SMU, debt-free. The business went south for some reason, Herbert lost it, and for the past ten years he’s worked as a part-time scout for the Baltimore Orioles. He now lives in Texas.”

Mercer placed her knife and fork on the table and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but this is unsettling. I can’t help but feel as though I’m being stalked. What do you want?”

“Please, Mercer, our information was compiled by old-fashioned detective work. We have not seen anything that we were not supposed to see.”

“It’s creepy, okay? Professional spies digging through my past. What about the present? How much do you know about my employment situation?”

“Your position is being terminated.”

“So I need a job?”

“I suppose.”

“This is not public record. How do you know who’s being hired or fired at the University of North Carolina?”

“We have our sources.”

Mercer frowned and shoved her salad an inch or two away, as if she were finished. She folded her arms across her chest and scowled at Ms. Shelby. “I can’t help but feel, well, violated.”

“Please, Mercer, hear me out. It’s important that we have as much information as possible.”