Chapter 9: The Heritage Club

The Heritage Club sat behind iron gates in Myers Park, a white-columned house with a dining room full of old money and older tablecloths.

Roland Kenworthy had asked me to lunch by text, and I had said yes because I wanted to see his face when I said no.

He rose from a corner table when I came in, napkin in hand, bow tie the color of claret.

Sixty or so members were eating around us, and they all pretended not to look.

"Ms. Odom," he said warmly.

"Thank you for coming."

"Please, sit."

I sat with my steno case at my feet.

"You sent guards after a cookie tin," I said.

"A misunderstanding."

"Guards in green uniforms."

"My apologies for that."

He ordered me a salad I had not asked for.

"May I be plain?" he said.

"Cordelia has hidden you for twenty-four years, and I will not let her hide you one more day."

"The board voted against her on Monday because I gave it the facts."

"I can give you a great deal more."

"Such as?"

"A seat on the board by Christmas."

"Chairmanship of the Foundation."

"A million dollars, tonight, to pay for Priscilla's care, whatever the foundation does."

I stirred my iced tea.

"And in return?"

"The tin."

He smiled.

"And the photograph."

"And your word that you will say nothing more about Rosewood to the press or the board until I ask you to."

"Why do you want a photograph?"

"Evidence has a way of changing hands."

"That's not an answer."

"It is a very good answer," Roland said, "for a lunch."

I was reaching for my steno case when a voice said, "Is this her?"

Annalise Kenworthy stood at the end of our table in a white dress.

She had four friends behind her and a glass of Cabernet in one hand.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Was the Heiress Switched at Birth? from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.