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her.”
    â€œText her. You’ll probably talk to her first anyway,” Rosamund replied, running a hand through her hair, looking bored.
    â€œHow’s Evie?” September asked.
    â€œFine,” he said brusquely. He mumbled something about papers in Braden’s den, then strode on past them.
    Rosamund watched him go and said to September, “He works with Braden. They’re always bringing papers and folders and briefcases into the den.”
    â€œI didn’t think March had much to do with July and the winery. Does he see her that often?”
    â€œOh, sure . . . we all do now.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Rosamund gave an unladylike snort. “She’s been living here the past month. Just moved in without even asking me! I told Braden she has to leave before the baby’s born, but no one seems to want to listen to me.”
    September couldn’t credit it. Though she hadn’t kept up with most of her family, she was surprised her older sister had moved back in with their father. March had his own place, and he and her father practically lived in each other’s skin. July had always, as long as September was aware, kept her own apartment or condo.
    Rosamund was looking at her, waiting, and September thought about storming past her to the attic, then decided it just wasn’t worth it. Even if she found her grade school treasures, she doubted there was anything earth-shattering amongst them that would give her a new lead in the investigation.
    â€œTell Dad I’ll be by tomorrow,” she said, then headed back outside into the still warm evening.
    She felt depressed. Without Auggie, she had no one to relate to within the Rafferty clan. Her mother and May, the women she’d been closest to, had been taken from her before she was an adult. July had always been on her own path and September had been too young to ever really relate to her. Maybe it was time to bridge that gap; it was worth a try. She just wished she had someone else who was close enough to confide in; Auggie was there but he’d been undercover off and on, and therefore had been unavailable a lot of the time.
    No wonder she’d fallen for Jake Westerly when she’d been a senior in high school. No wonder she’d made a fool of herself that year, dreaming about him like a lovesick fool, making love with him only to learn from his vile friend T.J. that Jake had merely been trying to score with a virgin. Was it true? To this day, she didn’t know, and it didn’t matter anyway in the larger scheme of things. September had wanted to be with him and she’d gotten that chance. He’d actually been nice to her during that time—or she’d thought he was being nice, hard to say with T.J.’s reveal—which had been wonderful after all the years of teasing she’d endured from Jake throughout elementary school. Jake’s father had worked for September’s and there was a bit of the rich kid/poor kid thing that he’d needled her about. It was like a backward way of flirting she recognized now, but it had hurt when she was young, especially because she secretly liked him. And then everything changed in high school when Jake came into his own and money was no longer any factor in his social status, and for a brief moment he split with his longtime girlfriend, Loni Cheever, and he and September spent a night together.
    When he learned about it, T.J. had had a lot of unkind things to say about that. Embarrassing things. September had pretended to be immune as a means to get him to stop, but when Jake went back to Loni, she started wondering if some of what T.J. had said might actually be true. Did guys really want to score with virgins just to get that notch on their belts? Guys like Jake Westerly?
    It just was so damn lame.
    Shaking off the thought, September drove back the way she’d come, arriving at her apartment around seven-thirty. She’d barely