So Pretty It Hurts

“I believe you’ll find some in here,” she told Jane evenly. Next she took out a white pot, a cup and saucer, and a small wooden tray to set them on.

“You don’t have it loose?” Jane complained as she poked through the packet with her chubby fingers.

“I’m afraid not,” Sandy responded, though she sounded almost pleased with the news. Jane let out a huge, annoyed sigh.

“Does your boss enjoy British customs?” Richard asked. “I don’t know many Americans who prefer loose tea.”

“I don’t know why anyone would want tea to begin with,” Jane said. “My grandmother drinks tea. And she’s like a hundred.”

We were spared more of her sour attitude by the arrival of a man I hadn’t seen yet, zipped up to his leathery chin in a red parka that was limp and stained with age. Sandy nodded to him and told the rest of us that this was her husband Ralph. He looked close to sixty, about ten years older than she.

“Any takers for the first walk today?” he asked hoarsely, like someone fighting a cold.

“I’d love to go,” I said.

“Count me in, too,” Richard said. That was a surprise. Based on how wasted he looked, I wondered if there might be a need later to have him medevaced out of the woods.

“I’ll meet you by the front door of the barn in ten minutes,” Ralph said. “Just be sure to dress warm.”

While I chugged the last of my coffee, Jane waited impatiently for Sandy to finish setting up the tea tray. Before lugging it away, she ripped open several tea bags and shook the loose leaves into the teapot.

“Don’t say anything,” she told us—as if we’d actually take pleasure in squealing to Devon that she was the victim of a major tea-leaf hoax.

“Would she like a muffin?” Sandy asked.

“Sure,” Jane said snarkily. “If you can slice off one tiny crumb and feed it to her with tweezers.”

Something was definitely going on with Devon’s eating. I wondered if she might be suffering from anorexia and decided to pay close attention later at lunch. But for now, I needed to grab my coat. After retrieving it from my room, I knocked on Jessie’s door just to see if she was up for the hike. There was no reply. I suspected she might have bunked down with Scott. I hurried downstairs, taking a few extra seconds to sign up for a late-morning massage on the clipboard by the door.

Ralph was waiting outside for us, a dusty old pair of binoculars dangling from his neck. Without chitchat, he led us single file along a trail that wasn’t difficult but kicked up my pulse rate a little. Richard did his best to disguise the fact that he was huffing and puffing at times.

We stopped at just a few spots, once for Ralph to point out an owl pellet lying on the ground, the regurgitated indigestible bits and bones from the bird’s last meal. A few minutes later he showed us a fox den just off the trail. A tuft of gray fur had been snagged by a branch just in front of the mouth of the den.

“Looks like Jane paid him a visit last night,” Richard whispered in my ear.

“Stop,” I said, pretending to elbow him.

We continued walking, and after a few minutes, we fell behind Ralph a bit on the trail. He was clearly giving us some breathing room.

“How are you enjoying our little house party so far?” I asked Richard.

“I’m having a marvelous time,” he said sarcastically. “Though I must admit it’s difficult keeping up intellectually. I’m guessing tonight we’ll tackle Francis Fukuyama’s latest thoughts on the consequences of the biotechnological revolution.”

I laughed.

“It sounds like we’ll be treated to a preview of Devon’s album,” I said. “Do you think she has a shot at making it as a singer?”

“Well, the same plan worked for Carla Bruni. And then some. It depends on how good her voice is and how well she’s managed.”

“Cap seems to be doing a good job guiding her so far.”

“Yes, but he might be in a little over his head in this instance. Up until now his biggest achievements had been helping models snag parts in movies like Scream IV or become the spokesperson for something like the magic flab blaster. Music is a whole different arena.”

“Do you think she might drop him?”

“A wonderfully sane, loyal, clear-thinking girl like Devon?” he said sarcastically. “Oh, I doubt it.”

There was a sudden honking sound above us, and in unison we glanced up to see a V formation of what looked like thirty geese slicing their way across the sky. After they’d vanished, I continued to stare upward. Clouds had muscled in during our hike, and the sky had a bruised, swollen look—the kind that at this time of year promised snow.

“Have you heard a weather forecast for the weekend?” I called up the trail to Ralph.

“Snow,” he said. “Maybe six inches.”

“Oh gosh, I hadn’t heard that. Will that create any problems for us getting out of here?”

“It shouldn’t. We’ve got our own plow here.”

“Oh, come on, Bailey,” Richard said. “Wouldn’t it be fun to be snowbound together? Maybe Devon will throw her cell phone at Jane’s head for not providing loose tea leaves and we’ll have to make a citizen’s arrest.”

A few minutes later I could tell from the position of the sun that we had begun to circle back. At around ten thirty, we emerged from the woods just a little farther south than where we’d entered.

“That was wonderful, Ralph, thank you,” I said. He accepted my thanks while coughing into an old bandana.

While Richard headed off, claiming to be in need of sustenance, I moseyed around, checking out the rest of the buildings on the property. In addition to the two large barns, there were three smaller structures, all made of barn wood. One was more of a cottage, a residence it appeared, and I assumed it was where Sandy and Ralph lived; another seemed to be mainly for storage, and the last served as a large garage. There were curtains in the windows on the second level, suggesting more living space.

I wondered if people were still sleeping because there wasn’t a soul in sight. But just as I passed the garage, I was startled by the sound of someone clearly crying. I followed the sobs to behind the building. Several feet into the woods, by a giant pine tree, stood Devon in her jeans, black knee-high boots, and pea coat, smoking a cigarette and twisting her body back and forth.

“Are you all right?” I called to her.

“No, I’m not freaking all right,” she said with equal parts anger and fear.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. I wonder if she’s broken a heel, I joked to myself.

“I’m not safe,” she said, catching me by surprise. “I need to get the hell out of here.”

Chapter 3

“Why—what’s happened?” I urged, edging my way through the dead, brittle brambles. A little alarm had started to go off in my head—clearly we were dealing with more than a broken heel here—and as I drew closer, I saw that Devon looked terrified. Her eyes, wet with tears, bounced around randomly, as if behind them she was thinking frantically, trying to hatch an escape plan.

“Devon, tell me,” I said, since she hadn’t answered. “What’s going on?”

I couldn’t help but wonder if her worried state related back somehow to the conversation I’d overheard between her and Cap last night.

“Can’t you hear what I’m saying? It’s not safe. Someone knows something.”

“Knows what?”