Henrietta's eyes stayed on the shape in the water when he let go and climbed up. It bobbed in the waves and knocked up against the pillar of the boardwalk with a noise that was something like a low-pitched squish. It wasn't the sort of sound a human body was supposed to make. It sounded lifeless. The thing in the water may as well have been a sack of garbage.

The man was saying something, and she refocused her attention on him with a start. What they did next? What did he mean? If this was about Mama catching them alone together and making assumptions — or about what other people might assume — that was unlikely to be much of a problem for them given recent events.

Goodness gracious, Mama was dead.

Henri moved her hand to try and push her hair back into place, but the wind made it impossible. Her eyes slid back to where the shadow in the water was. That was what he must have meant by what happened next, she realized. They would have to do something about Mama's body.

Henrietta ran a finger along the edge of the nail she'd just broken. What if they didn't? What if they just went back to the ballroom and pretended they'd never been out on the boardwalk at all? Of course that wouldn't really work; her hair was a mess and he was sopping wet. They'd have to explain that, and it was inexplicable. Henri shivered. "Should we tell someone?"

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