Chapter 17: The Guest List

Samantha's POV

Diane's noon deadline came and went with Cal standing at the front desk, drinking coffee, and looking at the clock.

At twelve-oh-one he finished the coffee.

"That's it?" I said.

"That's my answer."

"She'll call the bank again."

"She already did." He held up his phone. "Three cancellations since breakfast, all from Waylon's hiking group. Eleven more by dinner, I'd guess."

He said it flatly, and then he touched the back of my hand on the counter with two fingers, just once.

I felt it for an hour.

Sixteen days went by that way.

Waylon and Shanna laughed at the bonfire every night, and Cal's door at the top of the stairs never quite closed.

On Founders' Friday the cars started arriving at noon.

By three the gravel lot was full, and the overflow was parked along the county road in a line of dusty hatchbacks and campers.

Two hundred guests, Cal had said.

I watched them from the porch with a clipboard, handing out wristbands in the colors of the tents.

They all knew the story.

They said it to each other in low, pleased voices.

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