Chapter 4

Blake

"Are you alright?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his boss hovering in her ballgown. With a sigh, he dropped his head. The last person he wanted to worry was Elizabeth. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants, he stared at the green grass under his feet.

"I'm fine, Ma'am," Blake whispered.

Growing up, he'd become well practiced at lying through his teeth, so he hoped that she believed him.

"You're not," she said, touching his shoulder. "I've noticed that you've been down lately. Plus, I've never known you to slip away from a party."

Ten minutes ago, he'd wandered over from the Rose Garden, wanting to get away from the noise. But here, in the East Garden, he could still hear the music, the faint clinking of glasses, and the muffled laughter of tipsy partygoers. Usually, he loved dressing up. Given his upbringing, he felt right at home wearing a luxe tux, a set of engraved cufflinks, and a vibrant pocket square. However, attending a lavish state dinner tonight felt like a chore.

"What's bothering you?"

Swallowing, Blake slowly turned, facing her.

As always, her eyes were kind. Looking into them, he felt compelled to spill his guts, but he didn't want to unload his problems onto her of all people. She was his boss! And he was the one who was supposed to be watching out for her, especially at dinners like this one.

"Last month, one of my sister's friends killed herself," Blake blurted out. "She um… Publicly, her family is saying that it was an accident, but…" Twisting his lips to the side, he shook his head. "She stepped out in front of a car."

Briefly, he imagined the pool of blood in front of Waverly Inn on Bank Street. Unfortunately, in the borough of Manhattan, a pedestrian being struck by a vehicle wasn't uncommon. He was sure that plenty of people who passed by the scene had been unfazed.

"Oh, Blake, I'm so sorry," Elizabeth told him.

After she motioned to the garden bench behind them, he followed her lead and sat beside her.

Clasping his hands together in his lap, Blake mumbled, "Her name was Jill."

The youngest daughter of Joseph and Jennifer Anderson, Jill had truly been the light of their lives. As a teenager, she'd been so happy— always smiling, always a pleasure to have in class, and always the shoulder to cry on when a boy broke her friends' hearts. Unlike the rest of them, she'd always been so put together.

"Was there a funeral?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

Pulling at his fingers, he nodded.

"Why didn't you go?"

With a shrug, Blake said, "My parents went, but Meredith and I didn't."

According to their mother, his sister had gotten the call from Mrs. Anderson days before she'd found out about Jill. By the time Edie had inevitably heard the news from someone else, Meredith had already been in Switzerland for business. Knowing her, it had been her attempt at running away from the situation. He'd been running too, burying himself in his work, until eventually, it had all caught up to him in the middle of salad service.

"How is Meredith handling it?"

"She's struggling, understandably so." When his eyes began to water, Blake let out a breath. "I'm struggling too," he admitted.

Wiping away a tear, he thought about the annual picture his mother would take at the beginning of each school year. Like clockwork, on the first Tuesday of September, they'd line up in front of his school, always standing in the same order: Dylan, Colleen, Meredith, Jill, and Blake. Wearing their uniforms, they would smile big for the camera before being sent inside. Every year, he and Dylan would stick out their tongues at the girls, teasing them about having to drive the so many blocks to their own school.

"Meredith had dinner with her two days before she killed herself." His bottom lip trembled. "She said Jill was so excited about being the maid of honor at her sister's wedding in September."

Over the phone, his sister had told him that she'd brought a binder to the restaurant. Jill had wanted to run some ideas by her, so she'd opened it right there on the white-clothed table. Of course, the Anderson family was using a top-notch wedding planner for the event, but, like their mother, Meredith had a great eye for the finer details.

"She was her normal self."

Rubbing his arm, Elizabeth said, "Sometimes it's hard to know when people are hurting because they hide the pain well."

When he began to openly cry, she hugged him.

After a few minutes, she pulled back, looking him in the eye. "I want you to head home," she told him. "Take the rest of the night and try to relax. And maybe call your sister?"

"The last thing I want right now is to be alone." Tonight, Blake wanted to be honest. Maybe if there had been more honesty about struggling then Jill would still be alive. "I'd rather stay here with everyone."

Leaning back against the bench, he watched her lips part.

"How about you head to my house instead?"

"I—"

Holding up a hand, Elizabeth said, "I'll tell Henry to expect you." He must have pulled a face because she began to ramble. "The kids are watching movies, playing old board games, and making homemade pizzas with tons of toppings." Pausing, she grabbed his hand. "Please, Blake."

"Okay, I'll go," he agreed.

Standing, she smiled weakly. "I'll slip out after the main course." After she smoothed down the skirt of her dress, she mumbled, "Everyone who is anyone will be too drunk to notice that I'm gone."

Blake let out a wet laugh as he pushed up from the bench.

Later, in the dim light of the McCord's kitchen, they talked over slices of cheesecake she'd smuggled home.

"Can I offer a piece of advice?" When he didn't object, she continued. "Right now, I think it would be best for you to slow down." Elizabeth dug her fork into the dessert before she met his eyes. "You should take some time off and visit home," she suggested.

Lifting the spoon to his mouth, Blake gave a slow nod.

"Now, should I make up the guest bedroom?"