Page 95 of The Vanished

Geneva nodded happily. “Please.”

They headed downstairs and shut the door to the drawing room, and Jesse selected one of the records he had purchased and put it on.

“It starts with the footwork,” he said as he took his place.

“Doesn’t every dance?”

“Yes but when dancing the Charleston, you also have to swing your arms from side to side, like so.”

He demonstrated, and Geneva laughed. “You look like a chimp.”

“Come on, do it with me,” Jesse invited her. “One step forward, one step back. Don’t forget to swing those arms. Now bring your arms up, like this.”

Jesse lifted his hands and held them palms out. He was light on his feet, and the steps seemed to come naturally to him. He moved in time with the music without pausing or thinking, and his grin widened when Geneva finally caught the pattern and managed several seconds of true dancing before she became confused and nearly tripped over her own feet.

“This is harder than it looks,” she grumbled.

“It’s really not. Just have fun with it. No one will notice if you’re not doing it right. They’ve never seen it before. So even if you keep to only one basic step, you will be one step ahead of them,” he quipped. “Come on, from the top.”

He restarted the record, and Geneva managed to get through the whole thing with only a few missteps. Once she stopped paying so much attention to her feet, she realized that she was having a ball and found that she was laughing by the time the music came to a stop and Jesse performed an exaggerated bow.

“We’re going to knock them dead tonight,” he said.

Geneva’s smile slid off her face. She didn’t want to think about death, or about the immediate future. She just wanted to enjoy a few hours of carefree fun.

“Did I say something wrong?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t want to knock anyone dead,” Geneva admitted. “It sounds too morbid.”

“All right, then, you can be footloose and fancy-free. How’s that?”

“I like the sound of that, especially if you will be the same.”

“I might be footloose, but I’m not fancy-free,” he said. His arm went around her waist, and he pulled her to him, his lips capturing hers in a sweet kiss as he molded himself to her body.

Geneva placed her hands on Jesse’s chest, meaning to push him away, but found herself leaning closer instead. Her body thrummed with excitement, and something altogether new. She felt as though she were fizzing like a glass of freshly poured champagne, and she liked the unfamiliar sensation. For the first time in weeks, she felt truly alive, filled with a longing for excitement, adventure, and romance.

Before she could think better of it, she kissed Jesse back and kept kissing him until she was breathless with desire. She had never felt this way with Rory. His kisses had been pleasant, but they had never made her knees go weak or left her feeling so wonderfully bemused. With Jesse, the kiss felt spontaneous, a natural extension of the closeness they had shared—and perhaps a sign that, now that they were engaged, both were ready to take the next step. As they drew apart, Geneva realized she might welcome that, so long as Jesse was willing to go at her pace and didn’t press her into anything she wasn’t ready for, the way Rory had done.

It was then that Geneva heard the roar of the automobile and the shriek of the horn as the Austin 7 sped down the lane. She ran to the window, and her hand went to her mouth in both admiration and shock. Neither Honor nor Rose was wearing a hat, and their newly shorn hair whipped in the wind as they honked the horn and weaved their hats in the air in an act of pure adolescent glee.

Geneva had turned on her heel, determined to meet them in the foyer before Clarissa caught a glimpse of Rose, when she realized the door to the drawing room was ajar. Rory stood on the other side, and his expression warned Geneva that he had been there for some time.

SIXTY-FOUR

SEPTEMBER 2023

Keswick

Quinn snatched up her mobile when it rang. She hoped it was the police, or Gabe, but it was neither of them; the call came from an unlisted number, one of a dozen she’d received over the past few days and that morning. She had answered the first few, thinking they might be from Logan or the police, only to be met with telemarketers’ prerecorded messages about products or loans. Quinn declined the call and blocked the number.

She had tried not to frighten the children any more than they already were, but it was becoming impossible. After two cups of coffee, she was so jittery she found herself pacing the lounge, her mobile clutched tightly in her hand. By the time Gabe finally walked through the door, she was wrung out. He looked wretched, and, without saying a word, he gathered her into his arms and held her close.

“There’s no sign of him,” he said at last. “Sam and Reggie and all their guests came out to search, and several police officers were sent over from Keswick, but they have been recalled.” He looked gutted. “Quinn, they don’t believe Max is still in the area.”

“No!” Quinn cried. “He has to be. They have to find him.”

“No one has seen him. They’re checking the traffic cameras to see if anyone was in the vicinity of the hotel this morning, but there are no CCTV cameras that capture the boathouse or the lane that leads towards the lake.”