“No, no. I’m the one who’s sorry. Really. I was just being bitchy. And I’m sorry.”

“Oh, baby.” He strokes my cheek. “Come with me.”

He takes my hand and leads me below deck to the small galley. I sit at the table, and he comes to join me, bringing a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a box of Chips Ahoy cookies. He takes one, then holds out the box to me. I don’t really need it, but I take it anyway, then take a tiny bite as Jackson leans back in his chair and starts to speak.

“I didn’t know Megan had come back to town,” he says. “She went home after the screening, and I just assumed she was still in Santa Fe.” He pauses to wash his cookie down with wine. “She called before lunch. Said she was downtown and needed to talk. Her husband died about a month ago.”

“Oh.” Now I feel even more like a bitch. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s been … hard on her.” He sighs and presses his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. “I told you she was a friend, and that’s true. But it’s not just Megan I’m close to, it’s the whole family. Especially Ronnie.”

“The little girl.”

“She’s three going on thirteen.” His smile is broad and it’s clear he adores her. “Smart as a whip and as sweet as she can be. She’s—” He drags his fingers through his hair, and I can’t help but think that he looks completely exhausted. He shakes his head and smiles sadly. “She’s a very special kid.”

I frown, because his words don’t match the sadness I see on his face and hear in his voice. “Something’s wrong.” I get out of my chair and circle the table until I’m beside him and leaning against it. “What’s happened? Is Ronnie okay?”

“Yes, yes. Ronnie’s fine. It’s Megan.” He takes a deep breath, then drains the last of his wine. He runs his fingertip over the rim idly as he speaks, and I don’t think he’s even aware that he’s doing it. “You asked why I don’t want the movie made. Well, Megan’s a big part of the reason.”

“Megan?” I don’t understand what this redhead has to do with a movie about a house Jackson built in Santa Fe.

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Santa Fe.

“It’s her house? She’s a Fletcher?” The Santa Fe house—the one that pretty much launched Jackson’s career—was commissioned by Arvin Fletcher.

Jackson nods. “He’s her dad.”

“Oh.” Arvin Fletcher is one of the biggest land developers in the country. He started out ranching in New Mexico and was smart about his investments. He’s not worth as much as Damien, but I bet it’s close. And when he hired a then relatively unknown architect to build him a residence just outside of Santa Fe proper, he put Jackson on the map. Afterward, the house grew in notoriety. Because one of Fletcher’s three daughters murdered her twin and then killed herself. Megan, I realize, is the surviving sister.

Wow.

I stand and start to pace, trying to get my head around this. “So you don’t want the movie to happen because you’re close to this family. Fletcher gave you a huge break and you want to protect them?”

“That’s part of it. But only a small part. Megan’s bipolar. She’s a lot of things, actually, but that’s the easiest label. She’s been steady for years—the drugs help and she was good with Tony. But since his death, it’s been harder. She’s off-center, not taking her meds the way she should.”

“Oh.” I’m not entirely sure what to say. “That’s a shame.”

“It’s a lot of things. That’s one of them.” He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I worry about her raising Ronnie. And I worry about the press getting a peek at all the family skeletons. And they will, you know. If they make this movie, the family will become an open book. Even if the screenwriter doesn’t poke and prod, the media will. And I don’t want it to get out about Megan’s illness. About how bad it can get. Or about the fact that Amelia had issues, too.”

“She’s the one who killed herself and her twin?”

He exhales, then nods, but it’s clear that talking about this upsets him. “Yes. She shot Carolyn. Megan is their older sister.”

“The script suggests Amelia went crazy because of you,” I say gently. I haven’t actually read the script, but I heard that from Jamie who heard it from her Hollywood sources.

His expression darkens. “She was infatuated, yes. But I wouldn’t want to guess as to why she did anything.”




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