Page 10 of Everyone’s a Liar

Tuesday, July 1st

Bright and early, Livia packed her car and made the two-hour drive east of New Orleans. The Willows was built on a strip of land that was bordered by the Mississippi River on one side and protected wetlands on the other side. A graveled road led to the main estate that was hidden behind an elaborately scrolled wrought-iron gate. Her grandfather had been the one to add the fencing, as if living miles from the nearest town didn’t keep them properly isolated.

Once off the main highway, Livia pulled into the small town that was the last stop before reaching the family estate. Rushville wasn’t much more than a main street with a neat row of small businesses and a half dozen churches anchoring the clusters of neighborhoods. There was a park with a bandstand and playground that claimed a place of pride at the heart of town, serving as a gathering place for the locals. As Livia drove past, she smiled at the large red, white, and blue banners that were draped from the trees. They were preparing for the Fourth of July picnic that would include a parade and the massive fireworks display that made her aunt Delilah crazy. She was of the firm opinion if she didn’t organize and approve the event, it shouldn’t happen.

About to turn onto the road that would lead out of town, Livia impulsively pulled up to the curb in front of the local bakery. If she was going to survive the next two weeks, she was going to need reinforcements. What better way than a hidden stash of cupcakes, peanut butter fudge, and pralines?

All the stuff she kept off-limits when she was home.

Leaving the bakery with a large pink box tied with a bow, Livia nearly ran down a woman who was striding past the store with a determined air of authority.

“Sorry,” Livia muttered, stepping back as she clutched the box of pastries against her chest. That’d almost been a disaster.

The woman stopped, turning back to stare at Livia with wide eyes. “Livia?”

Livia frowned, her gaze sweeping over the tall, wiry frame that was covered by a brown uniform. A cop? Her gaze moved up to study the narrow face that was dominated by a pair of hazel eyes and framed by short, honey brown hair. There was a sprinkling of freckles on the pale skin and a smile that added an irresistible charm to her plain features.

“Bryce?” Livia felt a surge of happiness as she recognized her old friend, who’d made her summers at the Willows a little more bearable.

Bryce Swift had grown up in Rushville with her father, who’d allowed her to run wild. The near-feral girl had been the only one with the courage to defy Celeste Benoit’s disdain for her cousin and make friends. In fact, Livia was fairly certain it was to spite Celeste that Bryce started sneaking onto the private grounds of the Willows to spend time with Livia in the first place.

Whatever the reason, the two had become fast friends.

Bryce moved forward to give Livia a hug, careful not to crush her box of pastries. “My God, it’s been forever.”

Livia tried to think of the last time she’d crossed paths with Bryce. “It was your wedding, right?” she at last determined. She had been a bridesmaid at the small but beautiful ceremony held in the park. “What was that? Six years ago?”

“Almost eight.”

“Yikes. You’re making me feel old.”

“You want to feel old? I have a four-year-old daughter who reminds me every day that I’m creeping toward retirement.”

“Seriously?” Livia felt a stab of surprise. Bryce had been such a rebel that it was hard to imagine her as a mother. Then she remembered the kind and fiercely loyal heart that her friend had hidden beneath her tough exterior. More than once, Bryce had protected Livia from the local kids who wanted to impress Celeste by being cruel to her unwelcomed cousin. Even when it meant getting in trouble herself. Bryce would be a perfect parent. Strong, but fully committed to loving her daughter. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Josie is the light of my life.”

“Are you living in Rushville?” Livia tried to recall what she’d heard about Bryce after her marriage. “I thought you moved to Baton Rouge when you and your new husband joined the FBI?”

“We did.” There was a pain-filled pause. “Benjamin was killed in the line of duty three years ago.”

“Oh, Bryce.” Livia didn’t know what to say. She’d never seen her friend so happy as she did on her wedding day. The very picture of a radiant bride. It was horrible to realize that their life together had been cut brutally short. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Bryce shook her head, as if she was trying to deflect Livia’s sympathy. No doubt she’d had more than enough pity over the past three years.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I mean, it’s not okay, but we’re managing. We moved back to Rushville so Josie could be close to her grandpa. I wouldn’t be able to do this without him.”

“Are you still with the FBI?”

“No, I left the agency. I’m a deputy at the local sheriff’s office now. It gives me more time to spend with Josie.”

That explained the brown uniform and the silver star on her shirt pocket. Livia resisted the urge to offer her sympathy again.

She sent her friend an understanding smile, well aware of the sacrifice Bryce had made for her daughter.

“Josie’s lucky to have you.”

“I try.” Bryce flushed, as if Livia’s soft words pleased her. “Why are you in town?” She held up a hand as Livia started to answer. “Never mind. It’s the first of July. Time for the dreaded Benoit reunion.”