Chapter Thirty

Titus Hitch Wilderness

Titusville, Virginia

Friday

She'd found a photo on Archer's Facebook of Carla standing beside Archer, both grinning madly, taken over four years ago, when she and Archer had set up the Navarro Investment Fund. Autumn studied Carla Cartwright's face. She wasn't beautiful like Autumn's mom; Cartwright's features were too strong, her chin too aggressive. But her eyes were smart, Autumn could see that, and met the camera straight on. Her dark hair was cut in a bob sharply angled along her jawline. She had pale skin, black hair, blue eyes—Black Irish, she knew that was called, so somewhere along the line, Cartwright must have had Irish ancestors. She scrolled to another photo, this one recent and full length. Cartwright looked elegant and fit. Autumn had read in a Wikipedia article she was thirty-eight, five years older than Autumn's mom, a graduate of the Wharton School of Business. She had an economics degree from Brown. She'd dealt with IPOs—initial public offerings—it said, until she'd hooked up with Archer Navarro. She looked vibrant in the photo, happy, very pleased with herself and her world.

Autumn sat back. She didn't want to think about how his or Tash's lives had changed so completely after Celia died. It was too scary, all the bad things that could happen to people, like cancer or meeting the Backmans.

Autumn checked her watch, wadded up the potato chip bag, drank the rest of the bottled water, and stuffed them both in her backpack. It was time to get home to help Ethan and her mom feed the critters and make dinner. She decided she'd give all of them big hugs because you never knew when something bad might happen.