Bitter Bayou by Kailee Saunders

Author:Kailee Saunders [Saunders, Kailee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kailee Saunders
Published: 2022-05-27T00:00:00+00:00

twenty

His hunch was wrong. Friday arrived, and they still hadn’t heard from Dr. Garcia. Maren stayed in her room to distract from the ache in her chest, hammering her keyboard, and piecing together a rough draft for Primrose. He and Minowa lit up her phone several times this week. For Primrose, she answered. For Minowa, she texted; her messages confirmed she was alive, but they didn’t incite conversation. Once back home, Maren would speak with her sister. Voices would raise, tears would roll, and love would prevail. They’d repair their relationship, and life would return to normal. Which meant that now, she really needed a break.

“Ring.” Sitting on the duvet, Maren stared at her phone. “Ring, you stupid thing!”

Sunday. If the doctor didn’t call by then, she’d pursue other avenues. Come hell or hailstorm, she’d depart Louisiana with a secret to sell. But whose secret? Her grip tightened on the phone. Don’t let it be Cade’s. Please, please don’t let it be his.

Footsteps sounded, and her eyes popped open. High heels. Maren scrambled off the bed and tidied her flyaways.

“Hello, dear.” Desdemona beamed on the threshold of the guest room.

“Good afternoon. You’re home early.” During writing breaks, Maren had recorded the mansion’s comings and goings. Useful knowledge, should she need to snoop again.

“I wanted to speak with you.” She frowned. “You look stressed. Is something the matter?”

“Everything’s fine. Just tired.”

“Is it the mattress? I can have Peter drive into the city and purchase a new one.”

“That’s generous, but completely unnecessary. I’ve always struggled to sleep in unfamiliar beds. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Glee brightened Desdemona’s features. “Cade let your Saturday plans slip. I thought why not skip out this afternoon and go shopping. Just us girls. Judging by the size of your suitcase, I assume you didn’t bring any formalwear?”

“Formalwear?” Maren swallowed. Her definition of formal was the biweekly wearing of her sole set of matching lingerie. Surely not what Desdemona was referring to.

“Don’t faint on me now.” Her face barely moved around the laugh escaping her lips. “In ten minutes, we’ll go into town to get you all set up. How does that sound?” Without waiting for an answer, she swept from the room.

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