Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series by Ainsley Claire (e ink manga reader TXT) 📕

Lilly shakes her head. “You don’t have to kiss his ass,” she says. Then she kisses Nate on the cheek and goes off in search of his girls.

Walker sits on a barstool and looks out across the bay at San Francisco. Under different circumstances, the view of the City with the Bay Bridge on the left and the Golden Gate to the right would hold my attention for quite a while. But right now, I’m a little stressed. My mind is bouncing all over the place. I take another drink of my beer.

Walker seems cool as a cucumber, but after a few minutes I realize he’s only half paying attention to what’s happening around him, and he checks his cell phone each time it fades to sleep.

After a few minutes, Nate motions for us to follow him to his home office. Inside there are family pictures everywhere—him with his first wife, a black-and-white picture of Lilly, the girls at various ages. Oh, and also him with the president of the United States. I stop at a picture of a group that’s a who’s who of Silicon Valley. Mia’s standing next to Jackson Graham, and they’re all laughing.

Nate stands at my shoulder. “That was taken almost five years ago, the first time the group of us got together for a poker game. We were at a wedding in Vegas. Those are my closest friends, and I’d do almost anything for them.”

“I think Mia feels the same way,” Walker adds. “That’s why she went to Portland. Not only does she wants want Viviana to pay for her crimes, she wants her to be punished for violating our friendships. Mia’s not going to tolerate that, and though I know she’s personally crushed by what happened—and by what Viviana’s still trying to do to her—she’s never lost sight of the bigger picture.”

“You understand?” Nate asks.

I shrug. “I think so. I trust Mia. I do. If it’s important to her, it’s important to me.”

Nate nods. “A year ago, if you’d asked me if any of our friends could have been involved in my wife’s murder, I would have denied it was possible. None of us suspected a thing, as crazy as that sounds. Viviana was clearly a professional, and now it all makes sense.”

I take another drink of my beer. I think it’s what’s keeping me holding on right now. “This is outstanding.”

Nate grins. “Thanks.”

“I think Mia saw things in Viviana she didn’t want to admit to herself until she learned what she’d done,” I tell them, thinking back on the few times Mia opened up about this. “She feels a lot of shame about their friendship—though I don’t think she should. Sounds like everyone was fooled. But I think the personal betrayals here are much harder on her than any professional fallout, like her being on leave from Diamond Analytics. Like you said, she’s standing up for her friends now, and she doesn’t think twice about it.”

“You’re very insightful,” Nate says after a moment. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“I screwed up.” Suddenly I can’t look at him. “She was accosted at a restaurant while we were out last week, and rather than protect her or—” I sigh. “—even believe her, I kind of just froze and let it happen. Before that incident, I didn’t fully know who she was. And after that happened, I got on the internet and was completely overwhelmed by the troll-generated articles that were everywhere for a while. I’m ashamed that I believed them for a little bit. And I haven’t been the kind of friend to her I should have. Now I just want the chance to tell her how sorry I am.”

“I hope you two can work it out,” Walker says. “Mia is amazing. I just wish we could find them.” He stands, beginning to pace.

“I agree,” Nate says. “But listen, during my tours in Afghanistan I learned that when there’s a big explosion, people die. We can’t find the chopper right now, because there was no big explosion. That’s a good thing. Hopefully no one was injured too badly in their rough landing, and they’re working their way home.”

I nod. I need to change the subject. “I understand you’re renovating a house in the City,” I tell him.

He nods. “We’re moving into the old French embassy on Jackson Street, and we just figured out the plans. We’re going to renovate it using the floor plan that was registered with the City after the 1851 fire.”

“Wow. Did it burn down and need to be rebuilt back then?”

“It was partially burned. The brick part of the house survived, so when they rebuilt it, they used all brick. After that, the thing was so solid it survived the nineteen-oh-six earthquake.”

“When did the French government buy it?” Walker asks.

“They bought and renovated it in the mid-seventies, adding the consulate general’s personal quarters.”

“I remember my parents going to parties there when I was little,” Walker says. “It had a giant ballroom.”

“We’re going to have to take most of the house down to the studs and rewire to adjust for modern times,” Nate says. “Needless to say, we don’t need a bunch of offices, so we’re moving walls out, and the house will seem bigger.”

“That’s exciting.” I look around. “This place is pretty spectacular. I know Jeremy is grateful to be able to stay in your guest house.”

“He’s a good kid. I hear he’s home with his family in Nebraska,” Nate says.

I nod. We spend the better part of an hour talking about baseball before Nate’s phone rings. He looks at us before answering. “It’s Jim.”

“Hello, Jim,” Nate answers. “You’re on speakerphone.”

“We found them!” Jim exclaims.

“Thank God,” Nate says.

I sit back in my chair and feel like the weight of the world has lifted from my shoulders.

Walker