Morgan leans in, her wavy shoulder-length blond hair falling into her eyes. “I know this is, like, weird and kind of sad, but I have read every one of Maura Weston’s books. I can’t believe she’s your grandmother.”

“Oh, me neither,” I say. “She and my mom weren’t close, so it’s all a bit overwhelming. I’ve only read one of her books, actually.”

“Was it the one based on the murder that happened here?” Morgan drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It happened, like, right below where we are now. They say the janitor was obsessed with her, but she rejected him, so he drowned her in the pool during the homecoming dance. In the book, she made it a teacher, though. Creative license and all that.”

This is all news to me. I knew Maura’s first book made a huge splash in the early eighties, an instant New York Times bestseller, and, of course, there was the movie, but this true-crime angle is a surprise.

“I read the one that’s like Vertigo, on a boat,” I say. “I didn’t know that her first book was inspired by real life.”

Everyone at the table exchanges a look.

“It’s notorious here,” Natalie says, practically giddy about my ignorance. Like she’s thrilled to impart her superior knowledge to me. “Every homecoming, there’s a moment of silence for Caroline. She’d been crowned queen that night, and like an hour later, they found her dead.”

“It was Cassidy in the book,” Morgan adds.

Caroline in real life. I think about the homage in the trophy case, and it all comes together.

“Yeah, and Maura Weston superfans will show up this time of year,” Luke joins in. “A few…enterprising business people host murder tours.”

“He means him,” Natalie quips. “Luke is the enterprising businessman.”

“It’s tradition! Passed down from Rinaldi to Rinaldi. My sister made enough extra cash to buy a new car. Besides, it’s a great way to meet people. High school girls aren’t my speed.”

I wonder what girls are his speed. He’s got the looks to be a player: He’s tall, in a green polo shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders, with cheeks that dimple when he laughs—which is often, with confidence. His dark-brown hair is shaved into an undercut, the top gelled into a trendy wave. I would find him magnetic except jocks aren’t my thing. I have a tragic history with hipster nerd boys.

“Caroline was my great-aunt,” Morgan says. She pushes her dirty-blond beach waves off her face and, yes, I can see her as Caroline’s relative. “It’s so tragic. Cut down in her prime because some dude got his feelings hurt.”

Luke shifts in his seat. “Not all men, Morgan.”

I suck in a breath. Then everyone bursts out laughing, including Luke.