“We need to wait until the guests leave.” David waves his hand in the general direction of the five people still standing at the bar. These people are drunks, not mourners, at this point. He doesn’t want to go home with me. He’d rather spend the night on the cold sand, with Kylie!! I know the feeling, the urge toward avoidance. And the other: the search for something better. I share it, believe me. But still. Pretense is pretense.

I shrug and point to my bench. “I’ll be over there. Hurry, I’m getting cold.” I walk away and give him a chance to say goodbye to his guests, and Kylie. I think I hear David mumble something in my wake. The waves are building, crashing to shore, so I could be imagining things. The bench is cold and damp with dew. I sit anyway, knowing I may be ruining my new silk dress.

I open my purse, feel around for my phone. Something pokes my hand. I pull out an envelope, The Cove’s signature stationery. Dark green The Cove logo in the top left corner, crisp thick white paper stock.

I saw guests placing letters and cards in the basket by the podium. We’d asked for donations to some charity or another. Someone must have noticed my purse and tucked the donation letter beside it. Kylie no doubt put it inside.

I tear open the envelope and pull out the letter. When I unfold it, I’m worried I won’t be able to read what it says, or that I’ll drop an enclosed check on the ground. I shouldn’t have worried. There is no check. The words are clearly legible even in the dim light.

MARY’S DEATH WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT. JUST ASK BETSY.

My hands shake and I’m having trouble holding the note. I gulp for air. I scan the beach. No one is watching me. A shiver runs down my spine and I notice David walking toward me with Kylie. I watch as he slips his arm around her waist for a moment—their heads lean together as he whispers in her ear, before they break apart again. If you weren’t watching closely you would have missed it. They aren’t holding hands, but they might as well be.

I slide the letter inside its envelope, and slip it into my purse. My heart races as I watch them part, reluctantly, Kylie waving to me before walking away to her car. I stand on shaking legs. The dark weight of all of this is becoming too much to bear.