place I’ve ever eaten in my whole life,” Louise remarked. “I wonder what Rupert must have thought of Le Perroquet.”
“He liked it very much.”
Her aunt’s mouth twisted and she gave Madison a sideways glance.
“No really, he raved about it in front of his father when we had dinner together.” Madison’s voice rose as she asked, “Why don’t you like him?” She unlocked her arm from her aunt’s and took a step back. “Actually, what have any of my friends done to piss you off, and—”
“Sweetie, don’t use bad words. We taught you good manners at school.”
Madison couldn’t help rolling her eyes, which upgraded her from a middle-grader to full-blown teenager. Frustration, with herself and with her family, boiled up inside, while words rushed to her mouth.
“Good manners? You freaked out in front of a waiter at the Turf you’d never met before, then treated the guy I love like shit. A guy who took the time to invite you to the best restaurant in Oxford so you could get to know him better.” Louise slanted her body away from the accusations, but before she could express herself, Madison forged on. “So really, whose bad manners are we actually talking about here?”
Her aunt’s face turned blank, but her posture remained rigid, the muscles taut in her neck. “You’re being unfair,” she said simply, with a shrug.
Madison’s temperature rose. “I’m not being unfair. I thought you coming to Oxford would give me some moral support, but it’s been the opposite.” Jackson’s doubts sprang to her mind. “I’ve even started to question your motives for moving to England.”
Louise tucked in her elbows and lowered her chin to her chest. The blush that spread from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose stirred Madison’s suspicions that her aunt was harboring a secret. She watched Louise, searching for other tell-all signs that something was off.
“Why are you here?” Madison asked.
Louise pressed her lips together and the resulting silence was her sole answer.
Madison’s heartbeat thumped. “What are you not telling me?” Dread made the pitch of her voice jump, and she clenched her arms to her chest.
Louise exhaled with a long breath. Her second reaction was a small nod. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”
They were standing in front of St. Giles Church, and its cemetery. Madison hadn’t set foot here since her last visit with Ollie, when they had laid flowers—red roses—on Sarah’s grave. Louise wasn’t aware of Madison’s bond with the place; the graveyard simply offered an immediate respite from the city center’s buzzing traffic. The gravestones basked in the welcoming warmth of the afternoon sunlight. Madison psyched herself up and followed her aunt. Louise couldn’t know that Peter—Sarah and Pippa’s killer; Madison’s stalker—was also buried in one of those ancient tombs.
Louise found the tiny stone bench behind the last row of graves, just in front of the alley beside the church. Madison had sat here the night Rupert had confided in her, the night he had confronted his guilt and his mother’s death.
Louise patted the bench beside her. “It’s time for us to talk.”
“About what?” Madison’s voice trailed off and she started fumbling with her ring.
“Please sit down,” her aunt insisted.
Madison obeyed, her mind racing and searching for answers.
“I’ve come to Oxford for you … to finish what I started when I took you with me to boarding school.”
Madison felt her eyebrows squash together and she flinched slightly. “Finish what you started?” she repeated. “Why didn’t you follow me to Connecticut when I went to Yale then?”
“Because it wasn’t time.” Louise folded her hands on her lap and her gaze became wayward.
“Time for what?” Madison challenged her. “Can you please stop being so mysterious?”
Louise zeroed in on Madison. “All these years I’ve been preparing you. While your grandmother was
“He liked it very much.”
Her aunt’s mouth twisted and she gave Madison a sideways glance.
“No really, he raved about it in front of his father when we had dinner together.” Madison’s voice rose as she asked, “Why don’t you like him?” She unlocked her arm from her aunt’s and took a step back. “Actually, what have any of my friends done to piss you off, and—”
“Sweetie, don’t use bad words. We taught you good manners at school.”
Madison couldn’t help rolling her eyes, which upgraded her from a middle-grader to full-blown teenager. Frustration, with herself and with her family, boiled up inside, while words rushed to her mouth.
“Good manners? You freaked out in front of a waiter at the Turf you’d never met before, then treated the guy I love like shit. A guy who took the time to invite you to the best restaurant in Oxford so you could get to know him better.” Louise slanted her body away from the accusations, but before she could express herself, Madison forged on. “So really, whose bad manners are we actually talking about here?”
Her aunt’s face turned blank, but her posture remained rigid, the muscles taut in her neck. “You’re being unfair,” she said simply, with a shrug.
Madison’s temperature rose. “I’m not being unfair. I thought you coming to Oxford would give me some moral support, but it’s been the opposite.” Jackson’s doubts sprang to her mind. “I’ve even started to question your motives for moving to England.”
Louise tucked in her elbows and lowered her chin to her chest. The blush that spread from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose stirred Madison’s suspicions that her aunt was harboring a secret. She watched Louise, searching for other tell-all signs that something was off.
“Why are you here?” Madison asked.
Louise pressed her lips together and the resulting silence was her sole answer.
Madison’s heartbeat thumped. “What are you not telling me?” Dread made the pitch of her voice jump, and she clenched her arms to her chest.
Louise exhaled with a long breath. Her second reaction was a small nod. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”
They were standing in front of St. Giles Church, and its cemetery. Madison hadn’t set foot here since her last visit with Ollie, when they had laid flowers—red roses—on Sarah’s grave. Louise wasn’t aware of Madison’s bond with the place; the graveyard simply offered an immediate respite from the city center’s buzzing traffic. The gravestones basked in the welcoming warmth of the afternoon sunlight. Madison psyched herself up and followed her aunt. Louise couldn’t know that Peter—Sarah and Pippa’s killer; Madison’s stalker—was also buried in one of those ancient tombs.
Louise found the tiny stone bench behind the last row of graves, just in front of the alley beside the church. Madison had sat here the night Rupert had confided in her, the night he had confronted his guilt and his mother’s death.
Louise patted the bench beside her. “It’s time for us to talk.”
“About what?” Madison’s voice trailed off and she started fumbling with her ring.
“Please sit down,” her aunt insisted.
Madison obeyed, her mind racing and searching for answers.
“I’ve come to Oxford for you … to finish what I started when I took you with me to boarding school.”
Madison felt her eyebrows squash together and she flinched slightly. “Finish what you started?” she repeated. “Why didn’t you follow me to Connecticut when I went to Yale then?”
“Because it wasn’t time.” Louise folded her hands on her lap and her gaze became wayward.
“Time for what?” Madison challenged her. “Can you please stop being so mysterious?”
Louise zeroed in on Madison. “All these years I’ve been preparing you. While your grandmother was
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