Chapter 4: A Ride From Ansel

Ansel was waiting beside the yard office when Neil's truck pulled in.

He took one look at Neil's face and opened the passenger door.

"Slide over," Ansel said. "You're driving like it's a funeral."

"I'm fine."

"You're gray again. Slide."

Neil slid.

Ansel drove the way he did everything, easy and sure, one wrist on the wheel.

"Is it Jude?" he said.

"It's always Jude."

"That's what I said at the party." Ansel smiled at the road. "What did he do this time?"

Neil held out his phone.

He had decided in the lot that he would show the photograph and nothing else.

Ansel glanced at it and went quiet.

"Somebody's following you," Neil said. "Somebody sent me this."

"Probably one of Jude's people." Ansel's voice was gentle. "He'd love you scared before the Founders' Regatta. You know how he is."

"The text says the board."

"Then it's the Halvorsens trying to get under your skin. Delete it."

"I already deleted the first one."

"Good. Don't answer, don't block it, and don't tell Gran. She's eighty. She worries."

Neil looked at the road.

Ansel's hand came over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Whatever's going on with you, Neil," he said, "you can tell me. You know that."

For a second Neil almost did.

It was right there in his mouth.

I'm pregnant, and the baby is Jude's, and I'm scared.

"I know," he said instead. "Thanks."

"I'm your cousin. That's the job."

They turned up the long drive to the lodge.

Neil saw his grandmother on the porch before the truck stopped.

She was waiting with a pot of tea and a flat, unreadable face.

"Ansel, dear, leave us," Winifred said.

"I'm happy to help, Gran."

"I know you are. Go and check the regatta list."

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