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My Sister's Tears Stole My First Life, Not My Second novel · Chapter 16 of 24

Chapter 16: The Club

"No," I said.

The hall had gone quiet around us.

"I never said a word to Easton about a river," I said. "At brunch I didn't know there was anything to say."

"Explain that."

"The box with the dress was in a dumpster until almost four that afternoon. Brunch was at noon. Two hundred people watched me in that ballroom, and his own family walked out before I'd ever seen the county letter."

The reporter looked at the date on the letter, then at the statement.

"So he's quoting a threat about something you hadn't found out yet."

"He's quoting Tinsley."

"He signed it under oath."

"Then he can unsign it."

"He won't," she said. "Men like that don't."

"He will in front of his father," I said.

On Tuesday, the twenty-fourth, I put on the one good black dress I owned and went to Beacon Hill.

The Lathrops' club was a brick house with no sign on it, only a brass number and a man at a desk inside the door.

Easton's father ate lunch there every Tuesday. Everybody in Boston knew it. Tinsley used to brag about getting invited.

Gage had driven me up.

He and Simon were waiting at the curb in Simon's car, arguing about whether the heater should be on high.

"Twenty minutes," Simon had said.

"Thirty. It's a long lunch."

"Twenty-five."

"Fine."

The man at the desk looked at my coat.

"Members only, miss."

"I'm here to see a member."

"Which one?"

"Both of the Lathrops."

He was still reaching for his phone when I walked past him.

The dining room had dark wood, green lamps and about forty men and women eating soup very quietly.

Easton sat at a corner table across from his father.

He saw me and put his spoon down.

For a second he looked almost happy.

He stood up.

"Winnie." He came around the table. "I knew you'd come."

The room turned to look.

"Let's talk somewhere private."

"Here is fine."

He lowered his voice anyway.

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