9. Hattie

The air conditioning inside the Cottage House feels like heaven. I'm not a fan of the heat, and judging by the way the mercury keeps rising, I'll be needing a fan until next fall.

Cricket and Rookie have settled into their requisite post, along with that adorable teddy bear Santa gave them last December, greeting guests as they come in. If I had a nickel for every club member who took a picture of the three of them, I'd be able to outright buy the real estate underneath the club.

Of course, Cricket and Rookie aren't the only pets here on the grounds. If the rich like anything more than money, it's their furry counterparts.

In fact, right now, Cricket and Rookie are entertaining a cinnamon-colored standard poodle named Mrs. Beasley. She's smart, and stout, and has an awful lot to say about everyone who walks through that door—and twice to say about their four-footed pals.

Some days it seems there are more fur friends here than there are humans.

I take a seat behind the marble counter here in the foyer of the Cottage House and open up my event planner as I peruse the schedule for the next few weeks.

The Fourth of July is less than two weeks away, which means I've got less than two weeks to pull off a star-spangled event that even Uncle Sam would approve of. Not that Peyton will approve. I learned long ago that's pretty much an impossible effort. I'm about to make a list of things to do in order to pull off this red, white, and blue miracle when the doors swing open with a whoosh.

A group of men in dark suits stride in. They're headed toward Seabreeze, the fancier of the two restaurants here in the Cottage House. The thought of their prices always makes me shiver. You'd practically need to mortgage your house just to afford their famous Wagyu filet mignon.

The Cottage Grill, on the other hand, is more my speed. It's the casual, more wallet-friendly establishment where most club members usually find themselves. I've been known to spend hours there, planning upcoming events, and sipping coffee while noshing on chocolate-filled croissants.

Looking around, I can't help but be awed by the grandeur of the place. The stone floors are polished to a shine as they reflect the lights above. And that massive chandelier is like something out of a fairytale. Everyone in Brambleberry Bay could swing from it if they tried—all at once. The entire Cottage House gives off a vibe of both elegance and luxury.

The Country Club itself sits on a vast spread of acres that includes a world-class golf course, Olympic size swimming pools, a ballroom that overlooks the water that is mostly comprised of glass, and tennis courts—in fact, every court you can imagine. We even have a stable, a section earmarked for dressage, and the powdery beaches that stretch along the Atlantic. There are seven buildings here on the grounds and the Cottage House sits in the heart of them all.

The doors whoosh open again, and this time it's a couple of happy-go-lucky grannies making a beeline straight for yours truly.

"Morning, ladies," I sing with a laugh caught in my throat. Both Peggy and Clarabelle have on long floral cover-ups which afford me a peek-a-boo of their bikinis underneath. They each have a basket-like tote bag slung over their shoulders, a large-brimmed hat on, along with oversized sunglasses. "Ready for more fun in the sun?"

"Only if you promise not to zap us into eternity," Clarabelle quips. "Why'd you do it, Hattie? Why'd you have to send Jane off to the big accounting firm in the sky?"

Peggy leans in hard. "Did she have some serious financial dirt on the country club?"

"I hope you're both kidding," I say, closing the planner in front of me.

"Of course, we are," Peggy says with her Southern drawl. "We know full well someone else did her in, and it's up to you to get to the bottom of it."

Clarabelle nods. "And us, too. Face it, Hattie. We're a team—the dream team."

Peggy nods hard. "And we kill the dreams of killers."

"As much as I'm not sure I want to admit it"—I cringe a little—"it's true, I suppose."

Cricket and Rookie bound this way mewling and barking as they chase one another's tails.

I want in on this case, too, Hattie,Cricket says as she threads herself around Peggy's and Clarabelle's ankles. You know you do your best investigating with me by your side—and a can of tuna for the two of us to split wouldn't hurt either.

Rookie gives a soft bark. Count me in. Killion always says if he can't keep you girls safe, I'm the next best thing.

Oh please,Cricket mewls with an eye roll. As if we need men.

I shoot her a look that says let's not get carried away.

"What are they sayin'?" Peggy insists. "You mentioned yesterday that you can read the minds of animals. I want in on that party trick, too."

Me and my big mouth.

"All right, Hattie." Peggy clamps her hands down on the counter in front of me. "You have to show us how you do it. Think of all the advantages! Why, I could finally figure out what's going on in the minds of the men I date."

I laugh at the thought. "Now there's an advantage I don't think you really need. You do just fine with the gentlemen, and we both know it."

"But think of the improvements I can make," she pleads.

Clarabelle leans in. "And I could use it to know what all these suits are talking about when it comes to the stock market. It would be a game changer as far as my portfolio goes."

"Now there's an advantage I've never thought of." I cock my head at the thought. "But don't people go to prison for things like that? I look awful in orange."

"Oh please, Hattie." Peggy clasps her hands together. "You don't want to see an old lady beg, do ya?"

"No," I say plainly. "But what I have—it's not really a party trick that I can teach anyone. I mean, it's not like flipping a switch. You both know what you're asking is impossible. You may as well ask me to teach you how to fly."

Clarabelle grabs ahold of Peggy's elbow. "Think of the things we could do if we were airborne!"

"Oh, hon"—Peggy snorts—"I've already impressed a number of men with my airborne skills. At this point, I'm practically a trained aerialist." She yanks her arm back before returning her attention my way. "Hattie, I don't care how long it takes. I just have to know your secret."

Cricket hops up onto the counter and chitters with a laugh. They're relentless, aren't they? Just tell them you need a special tinfoil hat and then send them on a wild goose chase to find it. Maybe by the end of the endeavor, they'll forget all about your party trick and start a new business selling magical hats. I bet there's a big market for things like that. Hoomans are forever finding themselves obsessed with nonsensical things.

Rookie belts out an enthusiastic bark. Ooh, a tinfoil hat! Can I have one, too? I want to read minds. Wait, I can already understand what animals have to say. And to be honest, I'm not all that interested in what hoomans are thinking. I'm more interested in what they're eating.

Sounds about right.

I look over at Peggy and Clarabelle and sigh. "I wish it was as simple as me giving you both a few pointers, or telling you to buy a tinfoil hat. But it's not. And honestly, if you could read minds, I'm sure you'd find it more of a curse than a blessing. Imagine knowing every little petty thought someone has about you?"

"Oh, pish posh," Peggy says, flicking her fingers through her red mane. "I already know what the men think of me. And the women? They're just jealous they're not me. I think reading minds would be amazing. Think of the dirt I could dig up. I could be the queen of the dating scene—and the rumor mill!"

Clarabelle nods in agreement. "And I could lead the top investment firm in Brambleberry Bay. No more guessing which stocks to buy or sell. And by the way, I look fabulous in orange."

"Duly noted," I say, more than slightly amused.

Cricket stretches her front paws before curling into a ball. You should tell them it only works when you stand on one leg and sing the national anthem. That would be a sight.

I would, but I'm half-afraid they'd do it and break a hip while they're at it.

"Let's give her a minute to think on it," Peggy says, pulling Clarabelle toward the Cottage Grill. "And me a minute to wet my whistle. We'll be back," she calls out as the two of them disappear.

"I fully expect it," I say under my breath just as the doors open once again, and this time it's my favorite brother making his way over. My only brother.

"Henry," I say, walking around the counter to offer him a quick embrace. "So nice to see you. I didn't even get a chance to say hello last night."

"That's because you were too busy with your killing spree," he teases.

"You're not funny," I say.

Henry not only has our father's first name, but he also shares his dark hair and blue eyes along with me. He's clad in a suit, has his briefcase in tow, and looks sharp and ready to take down any courtroom in the country. He's a fancy-pants lawyer, and I couldn't be prouder of him.

He groans as he slings his briefcase onto the counter next to Cricket.

"Is the day over yet?" he asks, giving both Cricket and Rookie a quick scratch between the ears.

"Whoa," I say. "You sound like you're about to lose a case before you've even begun to fight."

He takes a moment to glare my way. "Now you're the comedian. Truth is, I just needed a change of scenery from the office. Thought I'd work on my cases here." And hope any desire to continue with law comes back to me.

"Henry," I say as a breath hitches in my throat. "Are things going badly at the office?"

"No, it's not that," he says, picking up his briefcase again. "It's just the usual work stuff. Nothing to worry about." It's not like I want my losses on the bench to worry my sister.

Losses? Oh no. It's clear he's discouraged. Anyone would be. No one likes to lose. Especially not if they have Holiday as their surname. Our father practically drilled winning into our minds. There was only one acceptable place to be in—and that was first place.

"I'd better head in," he says. "It's going to be a long afternoon."

"I'll pop in and say hi," I tell him.

"I'd like that." He gives Cricket and Rookie a goodbye pat as he makes his way into the Cottage Grill. A part of me wants to spill the beans and let Hattie in on my deep, dark secret. But there's no need to spoil both of our afternoons. As soon as word gets to my parents, I'm sure they'll be devastated. Heck, news like this might just destroy my entire family.

He takes off and my mouth falls open.

Something serious is going on with Henry.

And whatever it is, it has the power to destroy our entire family.