Page 95 of Go Back to December

“If you can get hold of him, I know how we might sway Badger. Can I borrow your car?” I gasp. “I’ve got to get up to the lake.”

Sybil reaches for her purse. “I’ll drive.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Lacy’s laugh rings through the speakers of Sybil’s car.

“Justin cut the piece, and the choir director says they can do it. Baz is going to die.”

At the very least, we’ll give him one massive case of the vapors. I hope I won’t push him too far with the performance we’re planning. This stunt is a Hail Mary pass to persuade Badger, and with what I’m risking, it has to work.

“What about Luiza?” I ask.

“She’s lined up. I didn’t tell her about you, but she’ll figure it out.”

“God, I hope this works.”

“Sybil, I want a live text play-by-play. No detail should be spared.”

“Bye, Lacy.” Sybil hangs up and sneaks me a smile. “Almost there.”

Oriana Lake is a Money Honey native habitat. As we traverse the winding road lined with pine and fir trees, the complex that stretches before us is purpose-built luxury. Snow blankets the tennis courts. And the drive off to the championship golf course. The lake extends across the horizon, flawless and frozen.

At the security checkpoint, Sybil drives into the outer lane, and rolls down her window. She punches a series of numbers into the keypad and the lever raises. The guard in the small, heated hut waves as we drive through.

Clearly, this is not her first time in Money Honeyville.

I huff a sigh. “How long have you and Lacy been planning this ambush?”

“This part was a contingency.”

“You rented a house as a contingency?”

“I own a place here. They let Black people buy them now.”

I jolt, blinking. “That wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

Sybil tilts her head, and I clap my mouth shut. When my cheeks cool, I say, “I’m sorry. People must say thoughtless crap like that to you all the time.”

“Sometimes it isn’t so thoughtless.”

I gesture out the window at the million-dollar homes, and the boats parked in yards. “All of this exclusivity makes me ridiculously uncomfortable. I assumed you’d feel that way too, and that was stupid of me.”

“You don’t make places more inclusive by avoiding them.”

“When I imagined you on vacation, it was more of a high-roller, sun and sand situation.”

“Oh, I have one of those too. This one I can drive to. And Denny gets us a serious company discount. Why do you think so many of these assholes have houses here?”

We drive past a turreted manor Sybil points out as the restaurant and activity center. At the far edge of the lake, people bustle around a collection of tents while kids tumble through the walking trails in snowsuits.

“Is that a sleigh?”

“All part of the First Night Carnival.”

She rattles off the list of activities, including the concert and fireworks.

“What’s that ribbon?” I point out the window as we pass a picturesque bridge.