Page 47 of The Prince Who Loved Me

Brandi said nothing else, but her cousin didn’t move. In fact, Wendy examined her nails while her leg bounced up and down.

Now that was a bad sign. Wendy never fidgeted.

“What’s really going on?” Brandi asked.

Her friends exchanged glances until Jordan finally spoke. “You have to ask her.”

Wendy sighed. “I know.”

“Haven’t you pried into my life enough for one day?” Brandi asked.

“Apparently not. Come sit down.” Wendy pressed her lipstogether.

Brandi moved back to the bed like it was a snake pit.

“Have you deposited the check from Grandma yet?” Wendy asked.

What did that have to do with anything? “No.”

Her cousin’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Aunt Carolann was kind of sniffing for information, like how much my check was. I didn’t want her to know mine was more than hers.” She stiffened. “Oh, fiddlesticks. I know you don’t care, but I—”

“Twenty-three thousand dollars and eighteen cents,” Brandi said quietly.

Wendy let out a sigh. “Me, too.”

“Did you say eighteen cents?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah,” Brandi said. “Weird, right?”

Jordan shook her head with a smile. “I love your Grandma. We were talking a few years ago about Jewish symbolism. One of the things I mentioned was how the number eighteen represented life. She was immensely curious about it.”

“Mystery solved. She’d been planning this for a couple of years, then.” Brandi let out a slow breath, then braced herself. “Why are you asking about the check? Mom did once, but then dropped it.”

“I was just curious.”

Brandi narrowed her eyes. “No, there was a reason.”

“Forget it.” Wendy grabbed her tablet and slid past Brandi. “I have to, um, sweep up the lobby. We’ll talk later. Bye, Jordan.” She closed the tablet and fled down the hallway.

“Yeah, okay.” Brandi kept herself from slamming the door, but barely.

But dammit, Wendy didn’t usually avoid confrontations or hard conversations. She had planted doubts. She had to look. Surely her mother wouldn’t…

She opened her dresser drawer and shoved the clothing tothe side. Her inheritance check was gone.

***

Sebastien turned onto the three-quarter mile drive to Fountenoy Hall, Loïc and Massimo trailing behind him in a separate car. The thrilling anticipation of seeing Brandi again warred with trepidation for the same thing. He had tried sketching that morning in Atlanta, but all of his focus had been on Brandi. Might as well be miserable and near her than miserable alone.

Paul, Fountenoy Hall’s social coordinator, was walking on the grassy land in front of the Hall with a couple holding hands when Sebastien pulled up to the front lot in the early evening. The sun was barely kissing the treetops, giving the grounds that spectacular view. He headed up the split staircase, Massimo following behind. Loïc could move his car later.

Wendy emerged from the hallway holding a broom, wearing her hotel-greeter expression that switched to a relaxed grin when she saw who it was. “Oh, it’s only you.”

“You were expecting someone sexier?”

“There is almost no one sexier,” she said by rote, but ruined it with her amendment.

“Way to shatter my dreams,” Sebastien said.