Chapter 48

The first call I get is from Charles, letting me know that he’s put Pamela to bed with a sleeping pill since she was threatening to camp outside Ravenna’s door until she let her in—sometime around the twelfth of never. He says he thinks it’s better to give Ravenna some breathing space. He’s written her a note, slid it under her door and it’s up to her to make the next move. No more drama. Everyone needs to stay in their own room and get some rest so we can reconvene with clear heads in the morning. I don’t know if that last comment was directed at me and Harvey, but romance is the last thing on my mind now. Well, maybe not the last, but not the most pressing.

I go to my window and look out into the night, wondering what Ravenna is doing with all that rage right now. You hear such awful things about young people these days. I hope Charles is right to give her space. Part of me would want to break her door down. Which is why I gave Krista the go-ahead. God, I wish she’d call.

I wonder if anyone has contacted Gracie? Probably not. No need to worry her at a distance when there’s nothing she can do.

I pace. I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I pace some more. I flick through the TV channels just to keep myself awake.

Three excruciating hours later, my phone rings.

“Krista?”

“I’ve got her. She’s safe. We’re at the Trapp Family Lodge.”

“Oh my god!” I feel a huge flood of relief. “How did you do it?”

“Well, you said she had a soft spot for dogs, and no one can resist Mitten.”

“You got him pawing at her door?” I know this trick from when I stayed with Krista and Jacques in Quebec.

“Yup. And then basically I offered to get her away from you lot and she jumped at the chance.”

I cringe. “So what now?”

“Just come here tomorrow as planned.”

“Well, we weren’t due to arrive until mid-afternoon, should we—”

“No. Don’t rush here. She needs as much time to herself as possible.”

“So, later?”

“No. No more switcheroos. Keep to the schedule. And bring Harvey. Unless she faces that embarrassment now, she’s never going to be able to have a normal relationship with him.”

“Is she okay? I mean, in herself?”

“No. But she will be.”

“Oh Krista!”

“Gotta go! I don’t want her knowing I’ve contacted you.”

“Okay!” I close the phone and hug it to my chest. Thank god she’s all right. Or—at the very least—in good hands. Now I just have to explain to the drama-averse Charles that my best friend has kidnapped his daughter.