Page 15 of After We Fall

“He’s not the reason.” Finley flakes polish off her thumb. “I am. Miss Meredith says I have a bad picker. She and Miss Penelope say I can learn how to make good choices.”

“How would Miss Penelope know?” Tanya places her hands on the table and leans into them. “She’s like a robot. Good choices are probably programmed into her.”

The words are like arrows, hurtling toward me but shanking off my armor. It’s all right. Sometimes people need target practice before they hit their intended bull’s-eye.

I just wish she hadn’t said it in front of Luke. For some reason, I don’t want him to think I’m a robot.

Luke crunches his mint and grinds the remnants. He glances at me, but I give him a small shake of my head. As long as they don’t start pulling hair, it’s best to let them continue the showdown.

Looking displeased, he returns his focus to the girls.

“Good choices or not”—Finley puts her hands on her hips—“I bet Penelope’s never gotten flowers like mine today.”

Flowers. A demoralizing thought presses on my chest. I’ve never received flowers from anyone other than my boss.

Wait. Finley received flowers today? The hairs on the back of my neck rise.

“Gah.” Tanya rolls her eyes with dramatic flair. “You don’t even know those were from him. There wasn’t a name attached to the delivery.”

Pushing off the wall, Luke stands, hands ready at his sides, his fingers twitching. “There was a delivery today?”

“Yes.” Finley’s face transitions to a dreamy daze, but concern etches her brow. “Though the card didn’t make sense.”

“What’d it say?” Luke spits out his words, his intensity choking the room.

My heart races. What has him so stressed?

“Something like, he was glad I enjoyed the wedding . . . and just wait until the time was right . . . because he has something planned for us. I texted him when I got home but didn’t hear back.” She scrunches her nose. “I’m more of a jewelry person than this kind of thing.”

Luke clears his throat. “What kind of thing?”

“Well, there were a dozen red roses in a plain vase. And a stuffed animal that cuddles a clock.” Finley shrugs. “Flowers die, so why would you spend money on them? The bear is cute, but the ticking on the clock is so loud. Totally annoying.”

Luke steps forward, urgency surging in his raised voice. “Where’s the arrangement, Finley?”

At the harsh words, Bianca shoves to standing, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. Her chest heaves with frantic breaths.

He swallows, appearing to rein in his urgency. He holds out a placating hand to her. “I’m sorry, Bianca. Hang in there with me, okay?”

With jittery movements, she nods.

Finley’s widened eyes dart between each person. “It’s in my room. First one off the hallway. What’s going on?”

Luke turns to me. “Penelope, take the girls outside, and walk all the way to the property gate at the road. Do not come back. I’ll come to you after I check this out.”

“Let’s go, ladies.” In spite of my desire to ask Luke questions, in spite of my initial hesitation to work with him, and in spite of my refusal to accept another dance with him, I trust him to take care of us. Professionally.

I usher everyone in my direction. “On your way out, grab your coats off the rack.” Glancing at their feet, I’m glad none of them changed clothes when they got home. Everyone still has their shoes on. But only two of the women are moving.

Bianca stands stock-still, staring at the table, almost comatose.

“Bianca?” I call.

In the background, feet shuffle, jackets are yanked on, voices spike with anxiety. However, in this moment, in this room, the air is eerily still.

“Bianca, can you hear me?”

Nothing. How do I solve this? How do I convince her to evacuate the house?