Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Praise for Sara Shepard
- Also by Sara Shepard
- Dedication
- PART ONE
- —
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- PART TWO
- Piper
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Piper
- Eighteen
- Piper
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Piper
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Piper
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Piper
- Thirty-Four
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Ronnie followed Lane as he headed to the door. Walked him all the way to the hall. He turned and looked at her quizzically, a worried smile on his face. “You sure you’re okay?”
She licked her lips. She could tell him. He loved her. Maybe they could figure this out.
He leaned against the door. “Should I stay? What is it?”
But then the fear took hold. Ronnie turned away so he wouldn’t see her expression. “I’m fine. Go to work.”
At about 10:45, Andrea called. “We all need to talk.”
“Um.” Ronnie felt so damn exhausted. What was the point of talking? What was the point of anything? “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“Ronnie,” Andrea said. “There is fraud going on at Silver Swans. Piper and Carson are in on it.” Her voice lowered. “Embezzlement.”
Ronnie frowned. “They’re stealing from the parents?” Certainly this hadn’t happened to her. Ronnie maintained a tight control over her finances. She knew exactly how much money went in and out—nothing had gone missing.
Andrea said she didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. “But I think this will get us off the hook as far as being suspects. When can you meet?”
“I’m not sure.” Ronnie couldn’t look past this afternoon. “I’m kind of busy.”
“Are you all right?” Andrea asked suddenly. “What’s going on?”
More tears filled Ronnie’s eyes. She let out a little squeak. “It’s nothing,” she said. She wished she could ask for help. Andrea wouldn’t judge. But Ronnie had been so self-reliant for so long, she didn’t have the vocabulary.
As the morning ticked by, she hemmed and hawed and stressed over telling Esme something, anything. She didn’t want to just drop it on the poor kid. And more than that, she had absolutely no idea what to say, and most of all, she feared Esme’s reaction. This was going to traumatize her. She saw Vanessa’s arrival coming, as inevitable as a sunset. And so they sat in the living room, the television on, Esme blissfully unaware, Ronnie in a state of panic. Forty more minutes. Thirty.
And then it hit her. She could leave. She could throw some things in a bag and leave with Esme, now. It was the only answer. She hated leaving her friends, and Raisin Beach, and her heart shattered at the idea of leaving Lane—but she would always choose Esme over him. She had to.
She jumped up from the couch, annoyed she hadn’t planned this sooner. “Baby. Let’s go.”
“Wha?” Esme blinked sleepily; she was in a TV coma.