Page 28 of Everyone’s a Liar

No, not really. But then again, she proved her aunt hadn’t been babbling incoherently. There really had been a Manny at the estate. And if Helene was confusing the past with the present, then she might genuinely think that Giselle was still alive and Manny was still the chauffer.

At least one mystery partially cleared.

Tucking the photo back into the plastic sleeve, Livia flipped the scrapbook closed with more force than she intended. There was the sound of crackling as the inner lining of the book came loose and a sheet of paper flew onto the mattress. Livia cursed at her carelessness, grabbing the folded piece of paper and gently smoothing it flat.

It didn’t look like someone had ripped it from a notebook. It was too small and made from a thick ivory paper with the date stamped at the top. Maybe a sheet from a personal diary? She shrugged, her attention focused on her mother’s handwriting in the center of the page.

Rice. Lake Oaks Park at 2 p.m.

Livia frowned. It looked like her mother had scribbled down an appointment. Was she going on a picnic and bringing some rice? Weird. There was a Lake Oaks Park close to her office in New Orleans, but it was nothing more than a small strip of land next to Lake Pontchartrain with some trees and a couple picnic tables. Not a tourist destination. Or even a romantic spot to meet a potential lover.

She opened the scrapbook to see where the paper had come from, her confusion deepening as she realized that the lining had been pulled off and then glued back together, hiding the note. That’s why she’d never seen it before. It wasn’t until the glue had dried up and she’d slammed the book shut that it’d parted to allow it to fly out.

But why would her mother hide it? A secret meeting? With who? And what was with the rice?

Baffled, Livia returned her attention to the wrinkled paper, her gaze lingering on the date stamped at the top.

Monday, September 29, 1997.

Her heart came to a painful stop. Her mother had committed suicide on September 28th. One day before her appointment in Lake Oaks Park. Well, assuming that she hadn’t torn out a random page from her diary to jot down the note. It seemed weird. Did people contemplating suicide make plans? And why hide the note?

None of it made sense.

The distant sound of the grandfather clock striking five at last shattered Livia’s dark musings. She still needed to shower and change before she was expected downstairs. And as much as she wanted to stay and figure out the meaning of the strange message, it was more important to concentrate on the present. And whether Winston and her uncle were involved with Jacob Pearson.

Tucking the scrapbook under the mattress, Livia smoothed the duvet into place before scurrying back to her rooms. An hour later, she was scrubbed clean with her hair pulled into a messy knot on top her head and wearing a silver lamé jumpsuit. The outfit was elegant but comfortable, plus she could wear a pair of flats. She wasn’t sure why she wanted the feeling she could flee at a moment’s notice, but it was unshakable.

At a few minutes after six, she was downstairs in the formal salon, staring out the arched windows as Winston Durand walked up the steps to enter the front door. He wore a casual tan suit and white shirt. Had he spent the day at his family estate? It was impossible to know. He could have been anywhere.

She was silently debating on the best means of following him around without being noticed when her aunt swept into the room. Livia groaned, prepping herself for the inevitable attack as Delilah marched to stand directly in front of her. On cue, Delilah’s gaze narrowed as she took in Livia’s sparkly jumpsuit.

“An interesting outfit,” she at last said.

Livia smiled, pretending the words were a compliment. “Thank you. Marcel helped me choose it.”

“Your receptionist?”

“Assistant,” Livia corrected. “And he has excellent taste.”

Delilah parted her lips, but before she could really piss Livia off by insulting her friend, Celeste entered the room, clinging to the arm of Winston as he moved to greet her.

“Oh, there’s Celeste. She’s wearing Chanel tonight,” Delilah cooed. “Always classy.”

Livia studied the short black dress with spaghetti straps and scooped neckline.

“You must be right. I saw several women wearing that exact gown at the Black and Gold Gala in New Orleans.” Livia smiled sweetly. “It’s obviously a very popular design.”

Her aunt’s expression hardened, as if trying to decide if she was more annoyed by Livia’s dismissal of Celeste’s expensive gown or the revelation that Livia had attended the most exclusive gala in New Orleans.

Livia bit her tongue, reminding herself that she was downstairs early in order to find out more about Winston and any potential connection to Jacob Pearson, not to insult her aunt and cousin. As much fun as that might be.

“They make a lovely couple,” she choked out.

Delilah sniffed, no doubt sensing Livia’s lack of sincerity. “Yes. Yes, they do,” she said, finally forcing herself to accept the compliment. “Celeste, of course, had her choice of men. I don’t know how many of them proposed. To be honest, I lost count over the years. But I’m glad she waited for the right man before saying yes.”

Livia managed a smile. “Have they been dating for long?”

“They dated off and on since Winston returned from college, but it wasn’t serious until a few months ago. Neither of them were in a hurry to settle down and I think Celeste wanted to be sure that Winston was ready to be a devoted husband and father. She’s like me—unwilling to compromise when it comes to putting family first.”