Her Sister's Secrets

by V. J. Chambers

  “I’m a friend of Kimber’s,” I said. “From when we were young.”

  “The event planner, right?” said Brett. “Oh, no, shit, that’s the girl who drowned.”

  I swallowed. “Yeah, my sister.”

  “Shit,” said Brett again, cringing. “I’m sorry.”

  I folded my arms over my chest.

  Phin stalked past me. “Let’s go talk to the bride, Mila.”

  “Your sister was a really great event planner,” said Brett. “Everyone said so, even Jonah. He used her at some event a couple years back, and he said she was amazing. We really wanted her for the wedding. It’s really a tragedy, and I’m very, very sorry. I know Kimber liked her a lot too.”

  “Jonah?” I said. “Jonah Fletcher?”

  “Yeah, you know him?” said Brett, smiling. He pointed at Phin. “Ask Jonah if I’m gay.”

  “Jonah knew my sister?” I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Yeah, definitely,” said Brett. “He highly recommended her services.”

  “But…” I was positive that Jonah had told me he’d never met my sister.

  “Mila, let’s go,” said Phin, tugging on my arm.

  I let him pull me away.

  “Hey, where are you going?” said Brett.

  Phin didn’t speak to him, he just dragged me over the sand until it turned to grass and then dragged me across that as well. We were heading back for the tent.

  Brett came after us. “You’re not really going to say anything to Kimber, are you?”

  Phin was stony-faced and silent, moving as quickly as he could.

  “Because it’s her special day, and I think that’s a dick move,” said Brett, just behind us.

  “You’re the dick,” said Phin.

  Brett caught him by the shoulder and turned him around. We were about halfway to the tent by then. “Hey,” Brett said in a quiet voice, “I thought we had fun together.”

  “I told you not to touch me, didn’t I?” said Phin. And his voice wasn’t steady.

  I turned to my friend. “Phin, you all right?”

  Phin sucked in air through his nose. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Whatever,” said Brett. “Just don’t talk to Kimber, huh? As a personal favor to me.”

  “Go away,” I said to Brett. I took Phin by the hand. We walked.

  We didn’t go to the tent or find Kimber. We didn’t say any goodbyes. We went out to find my car where it was parked along the road above, and only once we were inside did we speak.

  “He’s got to be mistaken about Jonah,” I said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “That fucking asshole,” said Phin. “I should out him on social media or something. I should fuck him over. He deserves it.”

  “I mean, if Jonah knew Violet, that would change everything. Because that would mean that he’s been lying to me all along. And it’s not as if I trusted him or anything, but maybe part of me was hoping that I was just letting my imagination get away from me, and that maybe he was actually a good guy.”

  “Do you know who Brett is?”

  “If Jonah knew Violet well enough to recommend her, then he knew who I was on the beach that first day, when we met. Why would he hide the fact that he knew Violet, especially if he was so open to Brett and Kimber about recommending her? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Brett’s Mr. Money Bags.”

  That got my attention. “What?” I gaped at him. “You’re freaking kidding me.”

  He shook his head. “At first I wasn’t sure, when I saw him up there at the altar. It looked like him, but he was dressed differently, and his hair was different, and I thought there was no way that he could actually be the same person. But then I got closer, and I was sure.”

  “Oh, my God.” I put my hand over top of his. “That’s so horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  Mr. Money Bags was a nickname that Phin had given to this guy he had a big crush on. He had run into the guy in the bar a few times and the guy always threw around his money, buying drinks for everyone, ordering expensive bottles of wine, that kind of thing.

  Phin and the guy had even sort of hooked up once. Phin really liked him. He said they had great conversations, and that this guy really understood him. But then Mr. Money Bags had stopped coming around so much, and Phin had gotten pretty busy with working at the hospital, and it seemed like it simply wasn’t meant to be.

  Phin rarely talked about him anymore.

  “You know, I thought that he and I maybe were going somewhere at some point,” said Phin. “I mean, obviously, when he dropped off the face of the planet, I kind of realized it wasn’t going to happen, and I was over it and all. I would even sometimes imagine seeing him again and being really cool about the whole thing, just being friendly. But I never expected to see him like this. And to find out that all that time, he wasn’t even using his real name? He was just going to the bar and pretending to be someone else?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. You told me his name was Paul.”

  “He’s just a liar and a conman,” said Phin. “And now, he’s conning your friend.”

  “Because he’s marrying her so that he can get his trust fund?”

  “I bet anything that the minute his grandfather dies, he gets a divorce and comes out. Don’t you think Kimber should know that?”

  “Probably,” I said. “But, um, maybe not on her wedding day.”

  “But it’s all a lie.”

  “Still,” I said. “Sometimes, it’s better to have a pretty lie than the harsh truth, you know?”

  “I don’t think anyone really thinks that.”

  I started the car. “Maybe not. But maybe they should.”

  * * *

  I had to spend the rest of the evening comforting Phin, who was pretty freaked out about the revelation that his number one crush was a jackass. Normally, I wouldn’t have any problem being there for my best friend, but my thoughts were churning. I couldn’t understand why Brett had said what he said about Jonah Fletcher.

  After Phin went to sleep, I debated slipping out of the house and going to Jonah’s house again to talk to him. It was nearly midnight, though, and I didn’t know if he would be awake. Or home, for that matter. He might have stayed late at the wedding.

  I decided against it, because I didn’t think I’d learn anything. If Jonah hadn’t been lying, he would tell me that, and say that Brett must have been confused. But if he had been lying, he was likely to say the same thing. He wouldn’t admit to knowing her now, not when he’d already deceived me. So, going there would only put me in danger. Because he might wish me harm. And he did have a gun.

  Besides, going to a man’s house in the middle of the night was too much like initiating a tryst, and I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.

  I thought about kissing him.

  Oh, geez, I should never have done that.

  Eventually, I fell asleep.

  When I woke up, Phin’s elbow was in my face, since we’d crashed in the same bed. I shoved it off me and tried to roll over and go back to sleep. Sleep didn’t come. It was morning, just early, so I got up, went downstairs and began putting together a quiche for breakfast. I had the time to bake it, so I figured why not? Besides, some of the cheese the Host had left me needed to be used before it went bad.

  I had just popped it into the oven when Phin came down the stairs, yawning.

  “Morning,” I said. “I guess you don’t have to work today since you’re still here.”

  “Nope,” he said. “I moved my schedule around so that I could spend the day with you.”

  “Great,” I said. “So, after breakfast, you want to go to Violet’s apartment with me?”

  “You want to do that today? I thought you weren’t ready.”

  “Well, I want to look through Violet’s stuff,” I said. “It occurs to me that she would have kept records of all the people she’d planned events for. If she did do work
for Jonah Fletcher, and they did know each other, I’d be able to find that out by looking at her records. She probably kept them on her computer.”

  “That’s true,” said Phin. “Hey, I’m sorry if I was all caught up in my own stuff last night. I get that you’re freaked about this Jonah guy.”

  I opened the refrigerator. “Orange juice?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  I got it out. “Yeah, I’m freaked out, and there’s probably something I should tell you. I might have accidentally sort of kissed him.”

  “Jonah Fletcher?”

  “Yeah.” I poured two glasses of orange juice. “I mean, not with tongue or anything, and only for like ten seconds. But.” I grimaced, handing him his juice. “That did happen.”

  “Why?” said Phin.

  “I don’t know. He just was… sexy.” I sipped at my juice.

  “He sounds creepy to me,” said Phin.

  “Kind of, yeah, but in a sexy-creepy way.”

  “That’s not a thing.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He gave me a withering look. “For all you know, Jonah has been manipulating you the whole time.”

  “I know.” I set down my glass of juice. “I feel like such an idiot.”

  “Well, you’re not an idiot,” said Phin. “And I’ll go with you to Violet’s.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Now,” said Phin. “What’s for breakfast?”

  * * *

  Phin was spoiled getting to eat my leftovers from the blog all the time, and with me away from home, he was anxious to get some of my cooking. I was flattered. I made him eat more quiche than a person should, and then we cleaned up, got dressed, and headed out for Violet’s place.

  I called Violet’s place an apartment, but it was really a small house. She lived in downtown Sarasota on Orange Street, in a house that probably could have sold for a half million dollars (even though it only had one bedroom), but she’d managed to get a pretty good deal on the rent and so it was affordable for her. I couldn’t have swung that amount monthly, since it was more than Phin’s and my apartment—and Phin and I split the total. Violet had been a bit more financially solvent than me, though.

  Anyway, she’d paid the rent up in advance, which was a thing that our mother had taught us to do. In businesses like ours, where a big job could mean a windfall, it was tempting to spend the money frivolously. But our mom had always said that you never knew when the lean times were around the corner, so it was best to put that money to work for you for the future. Whenever mom had a lot of cash, she paid up bills as far out into the future as she could.

  The house was painted a bright blue, and it had a tiny yard that was well manicured and landscaped. Violet hadn’t taken care of that herself, so I could only assume it was included in the rent. It was an older house—well, older for Sarasota, which meant it had been built in the 1920s—and so it had thick walls and a sturdy foundation. This house had stood through its share of storms.

  We stood on the screened-in porch, and I thought about who might have lived in the house in the 1920s. Maybe a grandmother whose family lived in the house next door or newly married couple in their starter home. I didn’t think about Violet living here, because I didn’t know if I could handle it.

  I’d avoided coming here thus far. I didn’t want to have to see the place where Violet had lived, especially knowing that she was a ten-minute drive from my own apartment, and we’d never seen each other. Just months ago, my sister had been here, flesh and blood and breathing, and I could have swallowed my damned pride and come to see her, but I hadn’t. And now, it was too late.

  I stood on that porch and breathed, sure I was going to burst into tears at any moment.

  “You okay?” said Phin.

  I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he said. “Because we don’t have to if you don’t want, you know.”

  I was sure. I had brought the key to her place with me, and I got it out now. I fitted it to the lock of her front door and turned.

  The door swung open.

  Inside, it was an absolute mess.

  I let out a laugh. Oh, that was Violet, all right. She had never been much for cleaning.

  We stepped into a living room where every piece of furniture was covered in tossed-aside clothing, bath towels, and robes.

  Phin made a face. “Maybe you should have come earlier. What’s her kitchen like?”

  “Oh, no, I had someone come in to get rid of the stuff in the fridge and everything,” I said. “They said they put all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and ran a load, so it should be fine.”

  Phin looked around. “Your sister was a slob.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that was Violet all right.” God, I missed her. I wished she was here right now. I wanted to hug her and tell her that I thought she was great. I thought event planning was great. I thought having a messy house was just fine. And I wanted us to remember what had happened with Roman Wainwright together, and to work through that as a shared experience that only sisters can understand.

  I wanted her back so badly.

  Phin patted my back. “Maybe it’s too soon?”

  I shook my head. “Let’s just look for her laptop, okay? It could be anywhere.”

  We tossed aside clothes and shoes and belts. We moved aside couch cushions. We looked under pillows. The laptop wasn’t in the living room, so we moved on to the bedroom.

  The bedroom was just as much of a wreck as the living room. There were clothes draped over every available surface, and her closet was practically empty, just full of hangers. She hadn’t ever bothered to hang up her clothes when she cleaned them, apparently.

  But the laptop was easy to find because it was sitting on her pillow. Luckily, it was even plugged in, so it had a full charge.

  I could have sat down in the apartment and gone through the computer, but I didn’t think I could bear being there any longer. It was too hard. It made me miss Violet too much.

  So, we took the computer and we left and went back to my house.

  Phin said he had to go.

  I protested, because I thought he’d said he had the day off. Apparently, he did have the day, but not the evening. He had to go in to work a late shift, so he had to go and get ready. He said to text him if I found out anything interesting on Violet’s computer.

  It was a nice afternoon, not too hot, so I sat out on the porch with the laptop and a glass of iced tea, and I began the process of going through Violet’s files.

  Luckily, it wasn’t too hard. Violet may not have been much of a housekeeper, but we’d both been raised by the same mother, who’d taught us to keep our work lives organized. Mom always said that there was a lot you couldn’t control when you owned your own business. Most things, in fact, you couldn’t control. But you could control your records, and keeping information current was helpful more often than you might expect.

  So, I pulled up Violet’s hard drive, and there was a folder called, Event Planning.

  I clicked on it, and it was all laid out there for me. There were folders for every aspect of the business, from vendors she used to catering and flower companies she worked with. I clicked on the folder titled Clients.

  They all had their own folders. I scrolled through them alphabetically.

  And there it was. Jonah Fletcher.

  Damn. He had lied to me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I opened Jonah Fletcher’s folder, and I saw that Violet had an initial intake form she’d filled out that described the event and what he wanted. I clicked on that, just curious. I saw that it had been a retirement party for Jonah’s father. There was a bunch of detailed stuff about the tablecloths and the theme and the decorations, and I couldn’t care less about that, so I clicked out.

  I clicked through the other files. One was an invoice. One was an itemized list of expenses.

  Boring.

  One was called Notes and Notab
les. I clicked on that. It seemed to be a list of things that Violet wanted to remind herself of. Each time she made a new entry, she put a date and then underneath would write something like to remember to order candelabras or something. At the bottom was a section entitled, Post-Mortems and Wrap-ups.

  Not likely to forget about this one, it read under the heading. Major disaster on all fronts. Never work with his man again. Still debating about going to the police.

  What?

  That was the last entry on the list.

  I went through all the folders again, looking for any other information. There was nothing. I clicked back to the main Event Planning folder and typed in Jonah’s name in the search bar.

  It didn’t bring up any other documents than the ones I’d already looked at.

  What the hell? Had she gone to the police? Why would she have done that?

  I opened up an Internet browser window and stared at the search bar. What could I look up that would give me more information?

  Um…

  I typed in the name of Jonah’s father and “retirement gala.”

  Immediately, I got results. Tragedy Strikes at Fletcher Retirement Gala, read the first news article.

  Geez. I clicked on it.

  Willard Fletcher, businessman and philanthropist died suddenly of a heart attack at his own retirement gala in downtown Sarasota, read the opening line.

  Okay. Well, that sounded awful, and I could see why Violet would say it was a major disaster, but why did she want to go to the police?

  I read the rest of the article, but there wasn’t any information about the actual event. It just talked about Willard’s life and his accomplishments and how many people in his family survived him and all of that kind of thing.

  There were a few other similar-type news articles, which I clicked on too, but they didn’t have any more information than the first one had.

  What did this mean? I was pretty sure there was more to this, and I intended to find out what it was.

  * * *

  “You know,” said Sage, my sister’s old assistant, on the other end of the phone, “I didn’t actually work with Violet back then.”