he glove luncheon is one of Symphony Ball’s oldest traditions. On the night of your official presentation to society, your fathers will be the ones to escort you to the end of the walkway. They will be the ones leading your first dance as adults, as elegant, strong, charitable young women.”

Greer Waters had her red hair pulled back into a sedate ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her “baby bump” was just barely noticeable underneath her pale blue dress. The speech was clearly practiced.

My mind was on other things.

“But this afternoon,” Greer said with a smile, “is not about your fathers. It is about the women who’ve come before you, the women who’ve raised you. Mothers and grandmothers, aunts and sisters and more. So, mamas…” Greer raised a glass. “Enjoy your mimosas. You deserve it! And, girls?”

Cue a sheen of unshed tears…

“We are so very proud of you.”

Personally, I thought my own mom—who was, of course, not in attendance at this little soiree—would have been very proud of the way I’d posted bail for a boy I barely knew, hired him one shark of an attorney, and also learned quite a bit about natural sedatives in the past two weeks.

Every Southern lady, I thought in imitation of Greer’s tone and cadence, should know how to drug and frame a scoundrel sorely in need of drugging and framing.

“I remember Lily trying on these gloves when she was four.” Aunt Olivia looked down at the gloves lying between her plate and Lily’s and smiled fondly. “Such a bitty thing with such a big attitude.”

That bitty thing had spent the past two weeks on logistics. Lily was every inch her mama’s daughter—type A in the extreme, especially when it came to premeditated crimes.

“I hope this isn’t too presumptuous.” Greer took the lone empty seat at our ten-top round table, right beside Sadie-Grace. “But I have something for you, sweetheart.”

The whole point of this luncheon, such as I’d gathered, was for each Debutante to be presented with a pair of white gloves—elbow-length, elegant, and preferably with a family history.

Symphony Ball was not designed for first-generation debutantes.

“My Deb year was one I’ll never forget.” Greer patted ­Sadie-Grace’s hand, and Sadie-Grace, bless her heart, was unable to keep from staring conspicuously at her stepmother’s gently protruding stomach.

“I know your mama wasn’t from here,” Greer continued magnanimously, “so I would be honored if you would wear my gloves.”

Aunt Olivia brought her napkin to her face and dabbed gently at her lips—the equivalent, essentially, of coughing the words trying too hard under her breath.

“I only hope someday you’ll have a little sister to pass them on to.” Greer let her hand rest on her stomach. “Though my mama’s instinct tells me this one is a boy.”

Had I not been preoccupied with my own criminal enterprises, I would have been seriously concerned that Sadie-Grace’s stepmother was planning to acquire a baby on the black market.

“Sawyer.” Lillian spoke softly. I thought, at first, that I’d committed some unforgivable faux pas with my salad fork, but then my grandmother withdrew a pair of gloves, carefully wrapped in plastic, from her lap. “These were meant for your mother.”

My mom had never made it to her own glove luncheon.

I accepted the gift Lillian had offered and then ducked my head. “Excuse me.” This seemed as good a time as any to make my escape. I stood, allowing Lillian to think that the moment—and its significance—was weighing on me. “I have to make use of the necessary.”

It took Lily exactly three minutes to follow me. “The necessary?”

“Too much?” I asked.

“That depends,” Lily said. “Were you going for debutante elegance or drawing room circa 1884?”

I shrugged. “I’m flexible.”

I checked the stalls, while Lily kept an eye on the door. By the time I’d finished my circuit, the third and fourth members of our little party had joined us.

“How’s Nick?” Campbell’s first words were more revealing than she would have liked.

“Salty,” I said. “And somewhat bewildered as to why we’re helping him. But mostly? He’s picked up on the fact that there’s a game afoot here, and he wants in.”

“We could tell him,” Sadie-Grace suggested hesitantly. “And Walker.” It was fairly obvious that she was making the suggestion so that Lily didn’t have to.

“If we tell Walker, he’ll confront Daddy.” Campbell looked from Sadie-Grace to Lily and narrowed her eyes. “We don’t want that—not yet.”

Keeping this from Walker was killing my cousin. I’d been checking in on him as often as I could, but Lily had avoided being in the same room with him since she’d found out the truth.

“Walker’s stable,” I said. “Or as stable as Walker gets. And Nick…”

“Nick doesn’t understand how our world works.” Campbell walked over to the nearby sink and picked up a bottle of hand lotion. “He’s a wild card.”

Weeks of scheming side by side hadn’t given me any more insight into what—if anything—Campbell felt about the guy she’d framed. She’d used him. He’d used her. I had literally no idea if there was anything more to it than that.

“We’ll tell the boys soon,” Campbell said, rubbing lotion into her hands. “Walker and Nick will know what they need to know when they need to. For now? I’ve looked at the different scenarios that Lily’s run out, and there’s one that seems to have a certain… panache.”

“The day of the ball?” I guessed.

Bingo. Campbell didn’t need to issue a verbal confirmation—it was all right there in her eyes.

“That gives us two weeks.” I thought out loud. “What do we still need?”

“The audio,” Campbell replied immediately. “And the pearls.”

“What do you mean we need the pearls?” Lily said. “You have them.”

“Actually…”

“Campbell!” Sadie-Grace squeaked. “What happened to the necklace?”

Our plan wouldn’t work without it. To set Sterling Ames up for framing Nick, he needed to be caught with the pearls. At a certain place. At a certain time. In certain circumstances.

“Campbell,” I said lowly. “You had better be joking.”

Completely unimpressed with the death glare I was aiming in her direction, my half-sister passed me the bottle of lotion. I considered using it as a projectile.

“After Nick was arrested the first time, I brought the pearls to Daddy.” Campbell’s explanation was dainty and neat. “I confessed. If he’d wanted to do the right thing, he could have.”

“The senator has the pearls?” Lily was horrified. “Do you even know where they are?”

Campbell shrugged. “There’s a limited number of possibilities.”

I actually did throw the lotion at her then. She ducked.

“Is that honeysuckle scented?” Sadie-Grace asked suddenly. She scampered to retrieve it. “Honeysuckle is my favorite.”

“Do you even want to do this?” I asked Campbell. She was the one who’d been playing the long game for months. This was her plan. But she’d led us to believe that she had the pearls in her possession, and she didn’t. At the end of the day, it was her family’s reputation on the line. Her father’s job. Her mother’s social status. To me, the senator was just the asshole who’d knocked up my mom and hung her out to weather the scandal alone. But to Campbell?

This was her family—and her life.

“Growing up, Walker played football.” Campbell sounded almost contemplative. “I danced. He was supposed to be smart. I was supposed to be pretty. He was Daddy’s pride and joy, and I was the bane of my mama’s existence. His and hers. Like towels.”

“Cam…” Lily started to say something, but Campbell cut her off.

“Unfortunately for Daddy, Walker is not the one who inherited his morals. Walker isn’t the Machiavellian one. Walker is not the born politician.” She watched as Sadie-Grace sniffed at the lotion, then continued. “I knew when I gave the senator the pearls that his desire to make sure that my involvement in the theft stayed a secret would have him encouraging the police to focus on any other suspect—especially if that suspect was Nick. I also knew that it would help to have the senator’s fingerprints on those pearls. I wore gloves when I handled them. Since Daddy never intends for them to be found, he wasn’t so careful. So in answer to your question, Sawyer…” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Yes, I am sure I want to do this. I owe it to Walker—and to Daddy.”

I’d never been so glad that my mom had left town and raised me worlds away from Sterling Ames.

“Do you have any idea where your daddy is keeping the pearls?” Lily asked. Like me, she must have deeply suspected that Campbell had just about reached her capacity for sharing.

“Either the house or the office or a location I can have a special friend pull from Daddy’s GPS.” Campbell’s expression dared us to ask about her “special friend.”

Silently, Sadie-Grace handed the bottle of lotion to Lily.

“So what we need,” Campbell concluded, “is to know for a fact that Daddy Dearest will be otherwise occupied while we search.”

Lily and Campbell both turned to me.

“What?” Sadie-Grace asked them. “Why are we looking at Sawyer?”

“Because,” I told her, “nothing says ‘distraction’ like ‘bastard daughter.’ ”