Pure Sin (Privilege 5) - Page 13

“What about a funeral?” Ariana blurted suddenly.

“Oh, there will be no funeral,” Mr. Jessup said. “Your grandmother wanted everything to be very low-key. She’s being cremated this morning, and her ashes will be scattered at the ranch. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come home and do that yourself if—”

“No,” Ariana said, as cool, comforting relief coursed through her veins and filled her lungs. “That’s okay. I . . . I don’t think I could handle that.”

Mr. Jessup smiled sympathetically. “I understand.”

The assistant walked in and placed a clear glass of water in front of Ariana. She grabbed it and took a ladylike sip. Then another. Then another. The whole while, she stared at the other three account books in the box, barely able to stop herself from tearing into them.

“Well, I suppose our business is done here,” Mr. Jessup said. He stood up and slipped a business card out of the inner pocket on his suit jacket and handed it to her. “Please feel free to call me if you have any questions.”

“Of course,” Ariana said, standing as well.

She barely looked at the card as she tucked it into her purse. Her mind was already rushing ahead to the insane shopping spree she was about to treat herself to. If only she were in New York instead of DC. But she could go there whenever she wanted to. Now she could even go to Paris to shop. She had a place to stay, all her own. Suddenly Ariana wondered what the apartment looked like. Maybe she’d spend the summer in Paris and have it redecorated. She could hire the finest designers in Europe and have furniture flown in from Italy and Spain and—

“It was very nice meeting you. I only wish it could have been under other circumstances,” Mr. Jessup said, offering his hand again as he slipped his briefcase off the table.

“Nice to meet you, t—”

Ariana’s voice died in her throat. Her eyes had just fallen on the top half of the folded newspaper sticking out of Mr. Jessup’s bag. Instantly, her vision clouded over and her head went light. She grabbed the back of her chair to keep from going down. She’d lived through these episodes before, but never had one come on so fast. Never so unexpectedly. Alarmed, Ariana clung to the chair for dear life and gasped, feeling as if she was about to drown.

It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

“Miss Covington?” Mr. Jessup’s hand was on her arm. “Miss Covington, are you all right?”

Breathe, Ariana. Just breathe.

In, one . . . two . . . three . . .

Out, one . . . two . . . three . . .

In, one . . . two . . . three . . .

Out, one . . . two . . . three . . .

In, one . . . two . . . three . . .

Out, one . . . two . . . three . . .

“Here. Have some more water,” Mr. Jessup was saying.

Ariana sat down hard in her chair and closed her eyes. Mr. Jessup pressed the water glass into her hand, but she couldn’t find the power to move it to her mouth. She rocked back and forward, back and forward, trying to wipe the image from her mind.

“Miss Covington? Please, drink.” He sounded panicked, and somehow that brought Ariana back to herself. Just slightly.

She lifted the water to her lips and gulped it this time. She felt the cold liquid sluice down her throat, coating her stomach and cooling her insides, and concentrated on those sensations. When the glass was empty, she closed her eyes and drew in one, large breath.

“Are you okay?” Mr. Jessup asked again. “Should I call the paramedics?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I think I just . . .” She pressed her eyes closed tightly, trying to keep herself from looking at the paper again. Trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for her odd behavior. “I just realized the reality of it all,” she rambled. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”

And then she could no longer stop herself. She opened her eyes and looked right at the folded newspaper. Right at the brightly colored photo.

It was. It was. It was her. “Can I see that?” she blurted. “The newspaper?”

Mr. Jessup’s brow knit deeply, clearly baffled.

“Sometimes it helps if I focus on something else for a minute,” Ariana explained impatiently. Her fingers itched to snatch the page, so she lifted her butt from the chair and sat down on her hands.

Tags: Kate Brian Privilege Mystery
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