Saybrook’s grew. Alfred cut and sold the other diamonds he’d “acquired” while overseas, expanding the store again and again. He made connections with better mines and dealers. With some of the profits he was able to buy better, clearer diamonds, turning them into higher-quality jewelry. Soon people from New York were coming to Boston to see him. And shortly after that, the decision was made to move to Manhattan.
Every time a Saybrook died tragically, Edith wasn’t one hundred percent surprised. But to admit it was karma, a curse? Buying into that, agreeing with the press that the family was cursed—well, that meant admitting that they’d done something to deserve it. And so she’d dismissed it as nonsense.
Now Edith shut her eyes. That was a long time ago. And what Edith was suffering from probably just was the flu, not some garish, amorphous tumor assailing her from the inside out. She certainly didn’t deserve this illness for keeping her mouth shut all those years. She didn’t believe in curses. That was that.
A strange noise startled her awake. She opened her eyes, not having been aware she’d even dozed off, and looked around. The two chairs next to her were vacant now. The music had stopped. Guests froze, cocktails in hand.
A scream rose from the beach. Edith stood. Who was that? Then Patrick emerged from between the pines. “Help!”
Everyone started to move. Though still disoriented, Edith made it downstairs and across the lawn. She searched frantically for her granddaughters, but she didn’t see a single one. A few men pushed through the group, offering their services. But where was Aster? Where was Rowan? Edith called out to them weakly, but her voice didn’t carry.
There was a small circle around a body on the sand. Edith’s heart lurched. “Call nine-one-one!” a voice bellowed. Patrick dropped to his knees over the body. “Is she breathing?” someone yelled. “Is there a pulse?”
“Who is it?” Edith screeched, clawing furiously to get through the crowd.
A stranger she’d never seen before whirled around and widened her eyes. “It’s one of yours.”
It hit Edith like a blow to the chest. The stranger stepped aside so Edith could get through. She knelt down on the sand, touching a girl’s bare foot. Patrick loomed over her, trying to do CPR. “Move,” Edith growled at her son, crawling on top of the body. She stared into the girl’s face, recognizing those signature ice-blue eyes, that sloped nose, the oval-diamond pendant Edith had given each of her granddaughters on her eighteenth birthday.
“No,” she bellowed, collapsing against the girl. It couldn’t be. Not another one. Wasn’t her tumor enough? Couldn’t she be the sacrifice?
The tide rushed in, hitting Edith with a shock of cold. People rushed to and fro, shouting panicked instructions. Edith stared into the trees, suspecting that someone was watching. Julia Gilchrist had never been found. Could it be her? Could it be someone else?
Or maybe it was something else. Maybe it had been something else all along.
An ambulance screamed up the walkway. People ran up to the EMTs, directing them to the body. But Edith’s gaze remained fixed on the woods, waiting for whoever—or whatever—it was to show themselves. All at once, she knew it for sure: the curse was here again.
Or maybe it had never left.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It was such a pleasure and privilege to be given the opportunity to dabble in this world and the lines of these fascinating, complicated characters for more than a year. Every book I get to write is a gift, and The Heiresses was a particularly exciting one. My unending thanks to Jonathan Burnham at Harper for making this possible, and to Les Morgenstein, Josh Bank, Sara Shandler, Lanie Davis, and Katie McGee at Alloy Entertainment for their brilliant insights, for their masterful sense of plot and characters, and for their continued support of me. Thanks also to Natalie Sousa and Liz Dresner for their tireless efforts and amazing designs. Huge hugs to Maya Ziv too—I was so thrilled to work with you on this project, and your guidance of what this book should be transformed it into something really special.
Also thanks to Jennifer Rudolph Walsh and Andy McNicol at WME for helping to make this project happen. And my best to the team at Harper: Robin Bilardello for your savvy cover insights, and Kathy Schneider, Katherine Beitner, and Katie O’Callaghan for your enthusiasm. It’s hard to get a book out into the world, and this wouldn’t have been possible without all of you.