John might well have been feeling lucky.

They’d have to see if it was enough.

• • •

A mere ten minutes after Ryan Berkley dropped Gin back at her Rolls behind his store, she pulled the convertible into its bay in the garage and checked her watch.

Perfect timing. Nine-thirty.

Richard had told her he had a very important business meeting that was going to go late, and that meant she was home before he knew anything.

Proceeding around to the front of the house, she passed by the windows of the old game room that wasn’t used very much. Through the half-pulled drapes, she saw her brother and an older, gray-haired man she didn’t recognize at the poker table, pairs of cards in their hands, stacks of multi-colored chips on the green felt beside them.

There was a gallery of people lined up watching them, and everyone was so serious. Her brother seemed to have more chips than the other guy, but then … no, it looked like Lane’s opponent won that one, the man flashing his cards and then dragging the pile in the center toward himself.

Gin continued on, going around to the grand entrance and looking up to the second floor.

No light on in Amelia’s room.

Entering the mansion, Gin went into the parlor and sat on the sofa that allowed her to see out into the foyer through the archway.

She waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

The sounds of the poker game bubbled through Easterly’s silent rooms. There were occasional shouts, a cheer, a curse. Laughter that sounded strange, although only because it seemed like a while since there had been any in the house.

Dimly, she wondered who Lane was playing.

She would not go down there, however … she had to be here.

Amelia finally came through the door after God only knew how long. The girl was in blue jeans, pencil ones yet again, and a blousy Stella McCartney top that had blocks of color all over the front and groups of hashtags in the back.

As she crossed the black-and-white marble floor, heading for the stairs, Gin called out, “A moment, if you don’t mind.”

Amelia froze with one flat on the lowest step. “What?’

“I’ve been waiting for you. Please come in here.”

“I’m going to bed—”

“I spoke to your proctor.”

That got the girl’s attention and she turned. “What?”

“Your proctor, Ms. Antler.”

“Okay, that’s my dorm parent, Ms. Antle. A proctor is a senior who’s like a residential adviser. Which you would know if you’d ever been to my school.”

“Why did you lie about getting kicked out?” Gin put up a hand and idly noted that the fake diamond was looking good. “And I’m not confronting you about it. I’m certain you had your reasons, and I’m curious what they are.”

Amelia marched into the parlor, clearly ready to fight. “I’m not going back there.”

“That wasn’t the question I asked.”

“I don’t owe you any explanation for anything.”

“True.” This seemed to surprise the girl. “But I would like to know why—”

“Fine.” Amelia crossed her arms over her chest and kicked up her chin. “No one called me to let me know Grandfather died. I read about it on the Internet and had to get myself home—and I’m not going back to school. I refuse to. I figured if I told you I quit, you’d make me go back, but if you thought I was kicked out, you’d let me stay.”

“Are you unhappy at Hotchkiss?”

Amelia frowned. “No.”

“Is there something wrong with the academics? The dorms? Another classmate?”

“No.”

“Is there another school you’d like to be at?”

“Yes.”

“And which school is that—”

“What’s wrong with you?” Amelia demanded—and not in a hostile way. More like she was wondering who had kidnapped her actual mother and replaced her with this facsimile. “What’s going on?”

Gin held the girl’s eyes even though it was hard. “I have not been a mother to you. And I’m sorry about that. I’m very … sorry about that. I was so young when I had you, and although you have been doing your job of growing up … I can’t say the same has been true for myself with respect to maturation. And honestly, when the dorm parent called me, my first thought was to go get Lane and have him deal with you. But the thing is this … my father is dead. My mother might as well be. Edward’s gone for all intents and purposes. Lane is busy trying to do right by all of us. And Miss Aurora isn’t feeling … well, anyway, at the end of the day, you and I have each other, and that’s it. There isn’t anyone else to turn to.”

“What about your new husband?” Amelia said bitterly. “What about him?”

“He’s my problem, not yours. In fact, he’s the best example of everything that I’ve always done wrong, and I need to deal with him.”

Gin looked around at the familiar, elegant room and then refocused. “We literally have no one but each other. And you can hate me all you want—I deserve it. I’ll take it. I won’t question it, and I won’t get angry in return. That emotion, though … however justifiable it is … won’t change the fact that if you don’t want to be at Hotchkiss, you and I are the only ones who can address that. And if you change your mind and want to stay there? You and I will need to get you back to campus. And if you want to drop out … well, I’m not going to let you do that. Because whether or not you respect me, you’re a minor and I’m your mother in the eyes of the law if in no other. And you’re going to at least get your high school degree. After that? In two more years? I have no right over your life except that which you freely grant me.”

Amelia blinked a couple of times.

And it was funny; she seemed to grow younger before Gin’s eyes, even as nothing particularly changed about her, the largely intangible regression the result of some feelings or thoughts or … Gin didn’t know what.

“Talk to me,” Gin said after a moment. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” “I’m afraid if I’m up there …” The girl looked away. “I’m afraid if I stay up there everyone will disappear here and I’ll have nowhere to go. I mean, I know about the money stuff. Will Easterly even stay ours? What about the company? Like, is the power going to be cut off here?”