I get back to the mansion in time for dinner.
Mr. Frost is already waiting for me, equal measures peeved and hungry. This is a man who isn’t accustomed to being kept waiting, and to make matters worse, he has a guest. He’s tall and lean with features too strong to be handsome, heavy at brow and chin, yet there’s something striking about him as well. His medium-brown hair is cut meticulously, and his navy pinstriped suit looks expensive. Our visitor rocks a red power tie … and he’s also the one Morgan’s kissing in the photo upstairs.
I only know him as “Step One.”
Shock leaves me struggling to breathe for a few seconds, and a swell of nausea makes me feel like I can’t get through dinner. But Mr. Frost will probably overreact if I bail. I fix Morgan’s cool smile in place and move toward Step One, extending a hand. To my astonishment, he takes it and pulls me in for a hug, and then kisses my cheek. In front of Mr. Frost. I glance over at him but he doesn’t seem to read anything wrong about it. Strike Step One—he’s Mr. Creepy from now on.
“You get prettier all the time,” Mr. Creepy says.
“Thank you.”
“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” The endearment makes my skin crawl, as he hasn’t let go of my hand. “I visited you in the hospital but you hadn’t woken up yet.”
“That was nice,” I say politely.
How many nights has Morgan calmly had dinner with her father and her secret boyfriend? My hands are shaking as I follow them into the dining room. The few meals I’ve eaten with Mr. Frost, we had in the breakfast nook, which is a deceptive phrase, as the space is still bigger than the kitchen at my old house. Thinking that gives me such a pang.
Mrs. Rhodes is setting hot dishes on the table, already laid with delicate, expensive china patterned with cherry blossoms. I sit to my father’s right and Mr. Creepy takes the chair opposite mine. How can he be so cool about this? I wonder why he isn’t worried that Morgan will tell her father everything.
“It looks delicious,” Mr. Frost tells the housekeeper.
Her smile says she’s not immune to his awkward charm, though she’s probably fifteen years older. Mr. Creepy is watching me with a secretive glint in his eyes as Mr. Frost serves the food. They’re having pot roast; I’m eating stir-fried vegetables and tofu. I never realized how lucky I was as Liv, able to eat pretty much whatever I wanted.
“Thanks, it looks good,” I say to Mrs. Rhodes.
She gives me the who are you and what have you done with Morgan look before heading to the kitchen. As I eat, Mr. Frost talks to the creeper, but it’s involved enough that I can’t tell if they have contracts together or what exactly their connection is. It seems like they’ve been acquainted for a while, which makes it even worse that Mr. Creepy would get involved with his friend’s daughter. And the worst thing about this situation is that the guy looks normal.
“Have you thought any more about my proposal?” he’s saying.
“No business at the table.” Mr. Frost glances at me in apology.
“I’m almost done. I can go if you need privacy.”
Mr. Creepy says indulgently, “If you don’t mind, Morgan, that would actually help a lot. I’m under time constraints here and I can’t get your old man locked down.”
“I’ve been a little busy.” Mr. Frost sounds terse, as well he might, considering his daughter was in a coma.
But he doesn’t invite me to stay.
I excuse myself from the table and leave the dining room but I don’t withdraw completely. From this distance I can still hear their voices; a house this size has impressive acoustics. For a few moments the talk is general and then Mr. C says:
“She looks more like her mother every day.” His tone bothers me, like, to the point of sending a cold chill down my spine.
Mr. Frost doesn’t seem to register that note, whatever it is. “I know.”
“Let’s get down to it. Have you made a decision, Randall? I can’t stall the investors indefinitely. You’re the one who said this area could benefit from an influx of capital.”
“Not like that,” Mr. Frost says.
“That’s a no, then.” What an icy tone.
“I think you already knew that.”
“Without you, this proposition is dead in the water. I need your support. What happened to the promise that you’d always be in my corner?”
“I’m not a member of your campaign team. This soft-soap emotional bullshit won’t play here, though the old ladies love it on Sunday morning. And you should have lobbyists working on this. I’m disappointed, Jack, so any promises I made ceased to apply when you stopped keeping yours.”
From there the conversation devolves into a hushed-voice argument. From what I can glean, Mr. Frost disagrees with his friend’s policies. As I turn, I come face-to-face with Mrs. Rhodes. I’m tempted to apologize and flee, but Morgan would never react that way. I raise a brow, or I try to. I can’t seem to do it, though Morgan could.
“Can I help you?”
Mrs. Rhodes shakes her head and brushes past me; the slight curl to her mouth tells me this is the sort of thing she expects. I wait until she’s moved off down the hall and then I go upstairs quietly. In my room there’s a new Frost Tech Pandemonium X, the latest model, still in the box. Mr. Frost didn’t mention this at the table, so I’ll have to thank him once Creepy Jack leaves.
I open the computer and do the setup. It takes me an hour to download the apps I want and reset Morgan’s passwords. Fortunately she had most of her accounts linked to her phone, so the services text me a code and then let me change the logins. I’ve just gotten into her e-mail account when someone raps on my door.
“Come in.”
Mr. Frost sticks his head in. “I see you found it.”
“Thanks. This is perfect.”
“Did you really say that word?” He smiles to show he’s kidding but there’s an undercurrent that makes me think he truly is startled. “Hope you weren’t too surprised at dinner. Jack just showed up.”
“I noticed some tension.” Maybe I can pump him for information.
“Don’t stress about it. I’m sure it’ll blow over.” No such luck, apparently.
We talk a little more and then he heads off to do some work in his study. I’m about to dig into the secrets of Morgan’s in-box when a text comes in. I pick up the phone, tensed in preparation for another blackmail demand. But the message is from a contact called DL.
Come out, I’m waiting just beyond the gate.
I’m pretty sure I know who this is, and I don’t want to go. But I need as much information as I can gather. My heart’s pounding like a kettle drum as I sneak out the back, across the patio, and stay in the shadow of the trees. It takes me a little while to get down the drive, and I quickly hit the button so I can slip out. There’s a car waiting. Clearly they’ve done this before as the system is down to a science. The idling vehicle is a sleek black BMW, the sporty model. I memorize the license plate number, though I’m not sure how much it’ll help me if this weirdo takes off and doesn’t come back. I’m not surprised at all to find Creepy Jack waiting for me with that off-kilter smile, though I have no idea why Morgan labeled him DL. My best guess is Down Low.
Something in his eyes sends my heart lurching into my throat. I know I’m being stupid as I climb into his car, but if I don’t take this risk, I may never understand why I’m here in Morgan’s body. In this moment I feel like I’m supposed to finish her work, and if I do, then we can both rest.
Not that I want to die. But I don’t want to live her life either.