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Back The Favorite Daughter Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Booklist
  4. Dedication
  5. Quote
  6. SUNDAY
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. MONDAY
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. TUESDAY
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. WEDNESDAY
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. THURSDAY
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. 39
  50. 40
  51. 41
  52. 42
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. DEAR READER LETTER
  55. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  56. READERS GROUP DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  57. Best Day Ever

He crosses in front of me and debates about where he should sit. Three seats down is where he’d like to be. But that would force one of his parents to have to sit next to me. He takes one for the team and sits next to me. Our legs touch for a moment before he yanks his body to the side. He is wringing his hands. I’m not kidding.

“Is something wrong? I mean, you should be happy, it’s your daughter’s graduation day.” I smile and pat his knee. His face is all sweaty, like he’s been running around town. Which he has been. I’ve been following along on the app as he drove between romantic interlude spots. Of course, he kept circling back to the house, their new multimillion-dollar home. Like something would be different, this next time he drove by. Like she’d magically appear in an apron in the kitchen. Sorry, David. Your dream is dust.

“Everything’s fine,” he says with the enthusiasm of a man who’s lost everything. But he hasn’t, not yet.

“David, are we to sit with you?” Mr. Harris doesn’t even greet me. He and the wife stand stiffly at the end of the row in front of us, ignoring me. Me, the one who saved them seats. Me, the one who gave them grandchildren. Well, one grandchild.

I guess they gave me the other one. And then, because of them and their son, she’s now gone. I stand up and they cross in front of me, giving David polite pecks on their way in.

I glance to my right, appraise the crowd. Yes, we are drawing attention. Ah, the tragic Harris family. So much loss. So much to come.

And then I spot a surprise. What is Sam doing here? He’s standing along the wall of the auditorium, close to Detective Branson. Now I’m a little concerned about him. Clearly, he wrote the third note and he thinks I hurt Cash. What else is he up to? Shouldn’t he be driving people around and making money so he can better himself? I doubt he’s even taking college classes. That was likely a lie. I watch him scan the crowd. Maybe he had a crush on Betsy all along. That must be it. I hope I told him enough about Bo and Josh to let him know she’s not available.

Of course I did. I told him a lot. He’s wasting his time being here. But who cares. The plan is in motion. The cast of characters is assembled. Sam is irrelevant. Let the fun begin.

39

5:45 p.m.

Betsy is in the middle of the class: in grades, in looks, in the alphabet, in the seating inside the auditorium.