Esme glided in with plates of roast lamb and root vegetables. Edith inspected it, as usual, and pushed the plate away. “So, Danielle, what have you been up to lately?” Penelope asked, pointedly ignoring Aster.
Danielle smiled sweetly. “Work has been really busy,” she said as she began to cut her lamb. “We’re hiring a lot of extra staff to cover the spring lines.”
“And you have a boyfriend, yes?” Penelope asked. “What’s his name?”
“Brett Verdoorn,” Danielle said proudly. “He owns a PR company called Lucid.”
“How wonderful. He owns the company himself?”
“That’s right,” Danielle simpered.
“Brett who?” Edith brayed, turning her good ear toward Danielle, and Danielle repeated his last name. Edith shrugged. “Never heard of him.”
Ten points to Grandma Edith, Aster thought, hiding a smile.
“And what about your family?” Penelope asked. “How’s your mom?”
“Um, pretty good.” Danielle tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “She moved back in with my father, actually. They’re trying to work things out.”
Aster paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Really?” she asked skeptically, remembering Julia and Greg’s epic fights.
Danielle smiled. “I know—I was surprised to hear it too. I guess time heals all wounds.”
“I’m happy for them. I hope they can make it work,” Penelope murmured.
Aster stared down at her plate, annoyed at herself for rising to Danielle’s bait. Time didn’t heal all wounds. Not in their case, anyway. What Danielle had done was unforgivable.
Elizabeth’s words fluttered into her mind again. Go ask your father. Aster thought about Poppy and Mason, fighting at Skylar’s birthday party so soon before Poppy’s death. Was it about Poppy stealing jewels? Or something else?
Suddenly Aster couldn’t wait a moment longer. She dropped her napkin on the table and shot up. “Excuse me,” she said, as if she was going to use the restroom.
She darted into the hall, past the powder room, and stood at the door of her father’s study. Glancing quickly right and left, she nudged Mason’s office door open wider with her toe. The light was off, but the computer screen glowed.
She crept past Dumbo the elephant and sat down at Mason’s desk. There was an icon for the Saybrook’s company e-mail system on the screen; Aster clicked on it. Mason had set the computer to log him in automatically. His work e-mails instantly loaded in Outlook.
“Poppy,” she typed into the search box. Hundreds of e-mails from Poppy appeared. Aster scanned through them quickly, but none of them seemed amiss. They were all about meetings, marketing strategies, new clients—actual work stuff. Nothing about stolen jewels. Nothing about secrets.
Aster chewed on her lip. Then she noticed another icon on the desktop, for a Gmail account. She clicked on it, but the computer requested a password. Aster closed her eyes, trying to imagine what Mason’s password might be, but she had no idea. She simply didn’t know her father that well anymore.
She dug into her purse and found her phone, only to realize she didn’t have Mitch’s cell phone number. She tried him at the office and crossed her fingers as it rang twice, three, four times. . . . Just when it was about to hit voice mail, he answered.
“What are you doing still at work?” Aster asked, momentarily distracted.
“Aster?” Mitch stammered. “Um . . . well, I might be using the work servers to host a giant World of Warcraft online tournament.” Aster could almost see his ears redden through the phone. She smiled.
“I was wondering if you could help me with something,” she whispered.
“Where are you?” Mitch joke-whispered back. “At church?”
“I can’t explain right now,” Aster said hurriedly. “But I need to know if you can help me hack into someone’s personal e-mail.”
There was a pause. “You really want to read Elizabeth’s mail?”
“Not Elizabeth’s. My father’s.”
Mitch made a noise at the back of his throat. “Aster, I don’t—”
“You won’t get in trouble. I just need to find out something really quickly, and I’m afraid to ask him. He’s a little intimidating.”
“Uh, yeah.” Mitch laughed self-consciously. “Which is exactly why I don’t want to get on his bad side.”
“Please. I’ll make it up to you.” Aster glanced up, hearing a noise from the kitchen. It was only the cook washing dishes. “Anything you want.”
“Anything?” Mitch repeated. “How about a date?”
“Done,” Aster said, surprised at how quickly she’d agreed. Then she got an idea. “Actually, I can do you one better. Will you be my date to my sister’s wedding?”
“Really?” Mitch sounded surprised. “I mean, I was just hoping for the dive bar on the corner or something.”
“Come on,” Aster cajoled. “There will be dancing, and the best cake you’ve ever tasted, and you’ll get to make fun of me in my embarrassing maid of honor dress . . .”
“You had me at cake,” Mitch teased, then grew serious. “But please, Aster. Whatever is happening with your father, just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”