“No, thank you.” Lane’s eyes were fixed on the sculpture, which was titled Freedom. She looked closely at the faces of the birds. Their eyes. The detail carved into each one. It had to be Miguel’s, but how? Harley, Dottie, and Ms. Byrdie knew about Miguel’s sculpting, probably Sheriff Huggins too, but one of them surely would’ve mentioned Miguel donating an item to her father’s auction.

“I’d hate to offend our hosts.” Annika picked up both glasses and offered one to Lane. “Let’s toast this wonderful event and the money we hope to raise for our veterans.”

Veterans. Lane absently took the glass and lifted it up to Annika’s before setting it down on the table.

“You’re looking at this sculpture as though you’ve seen it before,” Annika said.

“I feel like I have.”

“That would surprise me.” Annika sipped from her glass of champagne. “This is the first time the artist’s work has been displayed.”

“You know the artist?”

“It’s my job to know about local artists and the company they keep.” Annika’s tone shifted, along with the features on her face. “Nothing kills the career of artists quicker than their friends getting in the way.”

Lane didn’t have a clue what Annika meant, but she was growing uncomfortable beneath the woman’s stare. “I should probably get ready for the auction.”

“It was nice meeting you, Lane.” Annika lifted Lane’s still-full glass. “Don’t forget your champagne.”

Lane took the glass from Annika as an icy shiver slipped down her spine. Stepping far enough away so that Lane was sure Annika wouldn’t see her, she tossed the contents of her glass into a flower bed before handing the glass to a passing waiter.

Lane scanned the yard for her sister or for Charlie. Someone to cut the chill from the weird conversation she’d had with Annika. A boisterous giggle drew Lane’s attention to the spot where Vivian DeMarco stood, her arm laced through Charlie’s. A spark of jealousy ignited in Lane’s heart at the sight of them. When she had seen Vivian earlier in the sea of reporters, she hadn’t caught the full effect of the woman’s glamorous dress. A dress that made Lane feel plain.

And silly.

Lane’s mood turned as dark as the sky. Who was she trying to fool? She could pretend a lot of things. Put on a smile for a camera. Pretend like she was fine. But believing she deserved someone like Charlie—that he could love someone like her—was just another lie she wasn’t willing to live.

TWENTY-TWO