The Follower by Kate Doughty (ebook reader with built in dictionary TXT) 📕

Amber sprints upstairs to find a young woman at Cecily’s doorknob, rattling it against the lock, calling out for her sister. Amber slows, feels fear choke her throat. Could this be the follower? And then the woman notices her, and her facial expression immediately drops into something so sheepish that Amber discards the idea.

“I was just—trying to see if Cecily was—”

Amber plasters on her fakest smile yet. “Why don’t you let me escort you back downstairs, ma’am?” she says, trying to slow her accelerated heartbeat. This is just some other busybody, someone trying to snap another photo of Cecily for the internet fame or whatever reason.

Amber escorts the woman back downstairs, warning Rudy and her father to keep an eye on her. She shakes herself off and tries to put on the same happy smile as she heads to her next tour.

But things just keep getting worse. No sooner have they left the downstairs than a young man in her tour turns on her.

“Amber, I have a question—” She turns, ready to answer, but the expression on his face stops her short. “Where’s Cecily?” he asks. Her gaze drops to the phone he’s holding, pointed at her, doubtlessly recording her every reaction. “Where’s Cecily? If she’s really injured, why isn’t she down here? That is, if you have nothing to hide?” Amber clenches her fists, so, so tempted to break character—but his cell phone is shoved in her face, recording every move. She can’t make a scene. She can’t be anything but perfect.

Fortunately, she has years of training on how to blink and smile pretty.

When the tour is finally over, Amber double-checks to make sure that Cecily is undisturbed before heading back downstairs. As she navigates the crowd, she catches snippets of conversation: kids wondering about the follower, snooty adults making comments about how they would never let their kids post all over social media like that.

There’s one small silver lining: when an adorable little plus-size middle school girl walks up to her with a smile, wearing a crop top. “See?” she asks. “I’m breaking the rules, too.”

Amber kneels down and gives the girl a hug. She almost wants to cry.

Then she spots Jada across the room, eating a deviled egg with her mother and a woman that Amber doesn’t recognize. Jada makes her way toward Amber, and Amber steps forward and gives Jada a tight hug. Her girlfriend. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her hair smells like coconut oil and shea butter, and for a second Amber truly allows herself to relax, to melt in Jada’s arms. She explains about the morning in whispers.

“Oh my god,” Jada says. “That’s terrible. I was wondering about the new carpet—and all the weird stuff, like the photos—”

Amber nods, eyes darting around the crowd. “Just tell people that being kitschy is in this year,” she mutters, distracted.

Jada follows her gaze. “What?”

“Sorry,” she says. “I guess I just keep thinking that, you know, they could be here.”

“You think they’re here?” Jada asks, her voice hushed. “You really—”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m all over the place right now,” Amber says. “And everyone’s got their phones out and I—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jada gestures toward the foyer, where some of the bonfire kids are milling around the hors d’oeuvres. “Don’t worry. We’re all here, nothing is going to happen.” From across the hall, Amber gives Alicia, Trent, and Miles a wave. She explains to Jada that Bella is with Cecily.

“Jada! Who is this?” A woman appears over Jada’s shoulder. She’s tall, with light brown eyes and dreadlocks done up in an immaculate topknot. Amber can clearly see the echoes of the high school yearbook photo.

“This is my girlfriend, Amber,” Jada says. “Amber, this is my aunt Kendra.”

Girlfriend. She said girlfriend. She hadn’t heard Jada say it before. She feels all warm inside; it’s good to be official. She catches Jada’s eye and feels some of her stress from the horrific morning ebb away. Jada beams at her as she turns to Kendra. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“My aunt went to high school with Alex Grable,” Jada says. “I thought you two might want to talk, but . . .” She trails off.

“Please,” Amber says, forcing a smile. “I’d love to learn more about the house, or anything and anyone you remember.”

Kendra gives her a pained smile. “Well, I don’t know how helpful I can be, but I love what you’ve done with the place. This house deserves to be a home again. It looks so different than I remember.”

“You’ve been here?” Amber asks.

“Yes, I have,” Kendra says, scanning the walls, the windows, the pristine appliances.

“With Alex? What was she like?”

“She was a nice girl,” Kendra says. “We ran track together. Good at school, too; got a scholarship and everything. There were a lot of kids who were jealous. She seemed to have it all. And this house, well, it’s the largest house in town.” She smiles to herself. Her eyes are glassy, and Amber gets the distinct feeling that Kendra is lost in a memory. “Of course, looking after someone full-time isn’t easy—but that was her mom, mostly. Alex usually kept to that cool fourth-floor window room, her and her rock-band posters.” She chuckles, but there’s an edge there. A pain.

“Someone?” Amber asks, breathless.

Kendra nods. “Her uncle. Hurt in a car wreck, poor thing.”

Amber nods, taking everything in. Kendra had just confirmed Rudy’s theory: that the Grables had been live-in caretakers to Frank Glenarm, after he had been injured in the accident that took Bonnie’s life. Bonnie Grable-Glenarm. The hyphen had to indicate that Grable was Bonnie’s maiden name, which makes Frank Alex’s uncle.

When Kendra looks back at her, Amber is surprised to see tears pricking the woman’s eyes. “I guess it just goes to show that no one’s life is as perfect as it seems. She was so talented. They called her the shooting star, you know?”

Amber freezes. Shooting star. A child’s voice comes back to her:

Once there was a shooting star

That