“Thanks,” Aster said, caught off guard by Corinne’s rare touch of kindness. She hung up and headed to the turnstiles that led to the elevator, only to learn that she couldn’t pass through them without an ID card. Aster had no idea that their office, that any office, was so secure. Did they actually think people would try to sneak into work? And how could someone have broken in here to kill Poppy?
“It’s okay, Miss Saybrook,” said the security guard, scanning his card to let her through. “I’ll make an exception for you.” Aster gave him her best model smile in thanks. He must have recognized her from the ad campaign that was still plastered everywhere.
She stepped into the elevator and rode up to the eighth floor, where she was supposed to meet with HR so they could tell her where she was actually working.
“Aster?”
Danielle Gilchrist stood in the foyer, wearing a white, green, and orange color-block dress and expensive-looking wedges. Her red hair hung straight and shiny down her back, and a jumble of chunky bracelets lined her arms.
For a moment, Aster wondered in confusion what her old friend was doing here. Then she noticed the purple-and-silver folder with the Saybrook’s logo on the front. “Welcome to the Saybrook’s family!” Danielle chirped. Of course—Aster remembered now. Mason had gotten Danielle a job in Saybrook’s HR after she graduated from NYU. The thought made her stomach churn.
“I’m already in the Saybrook’s family,” Aster said, taking a step back.
Danielle colored for a moment, then recovered. “Right. It’s just a figure of speech.” She turned on her heel. “Well, come on. Might as well get started.”
She opened the door to a big conference room that overlooked the Hudson. On the walls were pictures of old Hollywood celebrities wearing Saybrook’s diamonds. Aster remained in the doorway, finally understanding what was going on. “Wait. You’re doing my orientation?”
Danielle nodded as she logged in to the computer and pulled up a PowerPoint. “Yeah, it’s company policy. Everyone has to go through orientation. Even an actual Saybrook.” Then she smiled. “You were at Badawi the other night, weren’t you? I love that place.”
Aster shut her eyes. She’d avoided interacting with Danielle for so long. She turned the other way if she saw her on the street, steered clear of parties if Danielle was on the guest list. Anything to avoid thinking about that summer. But all at once, a memory flooded back to her.
“Hey, Aster.” Thirteen-year-old Danielle Gilchrist sauntered up to Aster on the beach in Meriweather. Aster had always known Danielle—she was the caretakers’ daughter—but this summer she was different. “Got any Robitussin?”
“Why would I carry that around?” Aster asked haughtily.
“Because it gives you a great buzz,” Danielle answered. “You’ve never tried it?”
Now it was Aster’s turn to feel stupid. She shook her head. Danielle turned toward the shore. She was pretty, Aster suddenly realized—tall and thin, with long, wavy red hair and blue eyes. “I’m going to steal it from the drugstore, I guess. Want to come with?”
They drank Robitussin that night, and Aster got loaded for the first time. They snuck into Corinne’s bedroom to read her journal, which was as boring as they thought it would be. “She’s very . . . organized, isn’t she?” Danielle asked, glancing around the fussy bedroom with a smirk. Aster giggled. “You mean anal.” It felt good to laugh about her sister. Corinne might have been Aster’s protector when she was younger, but as they grew older, she had begun constantly telling on her. And it wasn’t as if Aster could talk about Corinne with any of her cousins.
Danielle slept over that night, and the next morning she was scribbling furiously in a notebook. “What are you doing?” Aster asked.
“I always write down my dreams,” Danielle said in a matter-of-fact voice. “And then I analyze them for symbolism.”
As the summer wore on, Danielle introduced Aster to vodka, prank calling, and how to get a fake ID through the mail. They spent every night whispering secrets and dirty jokes and watching French films that made Aster blush. They snuck over to Finchy’s, the bar across the island, and claimed to be sisters, letting scruffy older guys hit on them and buy them shots of well whiskey that burned their throats. They stayed in touch all the next year, texting about boys they had kissed and parties they had gone to, and their grand plans to live on Bleecker Street together when they turned eighteen. When they both got into NYU, they signed up to be roommates.
But then Saybrook’s needed a new face for its brand, and Aster seemed just the girl. Mason was enthusiastic about it, which was enough to persuade Aster—maybe this was her path. A week before she set off for Europe for the photo shoots, she was back at Meriweather with Danielle, on the beach outside the estate. Danielle took a sip of the vodka-lemonade Aster had mixed for them in her family’s kitchen. Then she said, “My mom told me the weirdest thing today. It made me think twice.”