“Vogue is going to have a field day. Did Lily tell you they’re sending a photographer over tonight? I’ll make sure this lands in the article. Prepare for an onslaught. A well-deserved one.”

“Wow.” Joey’s stomach rumbled. She couldn’t remember when she last ate. “So…when do you think the article will come out?”

“Not for some time, I assume.”

“Right.” Joey reached for the door handle. “I’m really appreciative that you took a chance on me.”

“A chance well taken. My instincts never lie, my dear. And congratulations are in order. I nearly forgot to wish you luck!”

“Luck?”

“You’re getting married in a couple of days, no? One does need luck for such things.”

Joey remembered reading somewhere that Edith had been married four times. “I am,” she said. A couple of days. Gosh.

“He’s a fortunate guy,” said Edith.

“Oh?”

Edith pointed to the wall. “That’s love. That is love if I’ve ever seen it.”

Joey felt her cheeks go hot. “Thank you,” she said, and opened the door.

Chapter Forty

Joey

Florida
2019

Joey drove fast. Thick morning air bisected the car from all four windows ratcheted down, still not ridding the Jeep of its indelible scent courtesy of Doris, its prior owner. Joey found the smell peculiarly nostalgic, like eucalyptus air fresheners and barbells that had seen their heyday in the era of Jane Fonda workout videos.

Her phone rang. There was pretty much no one to whom she wanted to speak. She glanced at the screen: G. Well, sweet G wasn’t on any shit lists. In fact, G was probably calling to check on things after Joey had filled her in on the dysfunction with a capital D that was their family. G had been subdued on the phone before. Perhaps now the whole vacation affair had sunk in, and G was ready to rage about everything Bea and Scott had done.

“Hi, G.”

“I need you to come over,” came a whisper. It was flat and lifeless—not the voice of her lively grandmother.

“G? Are you okay?”

“No,” said the strange voice. “I am not.”

Joey jerked onto the shoulder. “G, tell me what’s wrong.” The call evaporated. She dialed G back—nothing.

Joey made a U-turn toward her grandmother’s.

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-One

Dear Mrs. Bezas,