After scanning the rest of her in-box, she went to their Facebook author page and uploaded the London photos. Then a thought occurred to her, and she typed a name into the search bar. Three Sabrina Mitchells popped up. Blaire clicked on the photo of the Sabrina she’d met at the benefit. What a nitwit, Blaire thought—over three thousand friends, and no privacy settings. There was no way she knew all those people. Blaire clicked on her profile photo album. There were lots of pictures. Sabrina in a white bikini on a tropical beach, looking tanned and sexy. The next few at someone’s wedding, Sabrina on the dance floor in a slinky strapless black dress, heels a mile high and her long hair trailing down her back. She looked fabulous. But the next ones were even more interesting. Pictures of Simon and Sabrina together––one at a construction site with hard hats on; another at a company dinner, their faces close together and a huge grin on hers. There was a photograph of a much younger Sabrina, maybe fifteen or so, on horseback with Simon and an older man. Blaire assumed it was Sabrina’s father, the man who had been so good to Simon after his own father died. Another of her and Simon on horseback that Blaire recognized as being at Kate and Simon’s property. She wondered if Kate had been on the little jaunt, or if it had been a romantic twosome.

There was not one photograph of Sabrina with any other man. All of her group photos included Simon, although to be fair, most of them were taken in some sort of work setting. But Blaire wasn’t interested in being fair. It was completely obvious from Sabrina’s dreamy expression in all of the pictures that she was in love with him. They went on and on, as if she were chronicling every moment of her life. And Simon’s too. Kate wasn’t in a single one of them. One thing was sure—the only person this crazy woman loved more than Simon was herself.