Next, she googled “Lily Michaels,” something she hadn’t been able to bear to do since she got the news. The page filled with hit after hit. She clicked on the link from the Baltimore Sun to see a picture of beautiful, smiling Lily next to the headline “Baltimore Heiress Bludgeoned to Death in Her Home.” She scanned the article, which included a statement from the police department. They were considering a wide range of suspects, it said. From research she’d done for her books, she knew the husband was always the first suspect. The police would be digging into every area of Harrison’s life, and if they found even one shred of evidence that he had a motive to kill Lily, they’d latch on to him with the ferocity of a feral dog. He and Lily had always seemed happy to Blaire, but a lot could change in fifteen years.

Scrolling farther, she came to the obituary. It was a big article. Prominent. Just like Lily had been. It mentioned her charity work, her foundation, and all the wonderful ways she’d contributed to her community. Blaire felt a stab at her heart when she read that Lily was survived by one daughter and a granddaughter. She thought back to her senior year in college. Kate had been seeing Simon for a few months, and suddenly had less and less time for Blaire. It had been a Friday night when she’d gotten a call from Harrison asking if she knew how to reach Kate, who wasn’t in her off-campus apartment or answering her cell phone.

“Is everything okay?” she’d asked.

“Lily had a minor car accident,” Harrison had said.

“Oh no! What happened?”

“Someone rear-ended her. She has mild whiplash and a broken wrist. I’m on call tomorrow and was hoping Kate could fly down and help out over the weekend.”

“Kate’s probably already gone. She told me that she and Simon were going skiing in Stowe.”

A sharp intake of breath had come over the line. “I see.”

“What if I come?” she’d said impulsively. “I can catch an early train from Penn Station and be there by nine.”

“Blaire, that’s such a kind offer. Thank you.”

She’d heard the relief in his voice. So she’d gone and taken care of Lily, and it turned out to be one of the nicest weekends she could remember. Just Lily and Blaire, talking, watching old movies, playing Scrabble.

Lily had hugged her tight and smiled widely, her eyes crinkling. She’d put her hand on Blaire’s cheek. “Blaire, darling, I can’t thank you enough. How lucky I am, to have not only one daughter but two.”

Yes, Kate had lost her mother, and it was terrible, Blaire thought. But Blaire had lost her too—not once but twice.

5