“Mama sends her regrets,” Campbell lied smoothly. She turned to Sadie-Grace. “I’d just love to see the nursery.” She gave me a look so pointed it could have pierced ears. “Wouldn’t you, Sawyer?”

She knows something, I thought.

“We’d all love to see the nursery,” Lily said before I could reply. Given that she hadn’t figured out the roof trick yet, I could only assume that she was dying to get away from her mama.

“After I show y’all the nursery,” Sadie-Grace said as she led us through the party and up the stairs, “you three can help me practice my toast. I’m the hostess. I have to toast Greer and the baby.”

“The baby,” I emphasized, “who does not exist.”

Right on cue, we came to the threshold of the nursery. I’d thought the situation with Greer’s “pregnancy” had already reached maximum ridiculousness, but as I took in the infant wonderland spread out before me, I could only conclude that I’d been wrong.

“It looks like Pottery Barn Kids threw up in here.” Campbell was, as ever, a sensitive soul.

“It’s lovely,” Lily corrected. And it was. The room was fully furnished, complete with an antique rocking horse, a mobile, window treatments, and framed pictures above the crib. The walls had been painted a very pale blue. The changing table was already outfitted with supplies.

“Greer does know she’s not actually having a baby, right?” I said.

Sadie-Grace rose to the tips of her toes, a sure sign her anxiety levels were rising, too. “Maybe?”

I could sense a rond de jambe coming on.

“You need to tell your father the truth,” Lily told her yet again.

“But he’s so happy about the baby. . . .”

“Forget Greer.” Campbell had clearly expended the sum total of her ability to pretend to care about the nursery, the “baby,” or Sadie-Grace’s family drama. “Who wants to know what I found out about the Lady of Regal Lake?”

That wasn’t what I’d expected when Campbell had suggested we’d come up here.

“The who?” Lily responded.

“That’s what people are calling the body we found. The Lady of the Lake. She’s female, obviously.” Campbell stepped into the nursery and turned back to face us, like a player on a stage. “The authorities think the storms we’ve been having dredged her up. I heard they dated the remains back a couple of decades.” Campbell met my eyes. “Female,” she reiterated. “Dead around twenty years.”

It took me a moment to realize what she was getting at. Twenty years ago, Ana Gutierrez left town. Her family hasn’t heard from her. There’s not a trace of her online.

“Am I missing something here?” Lily asked, looking between Campbell and me.