Main Dishes

My name is Vivian Rook. I’m thirty-four years old, and I was born into a family that never quite figured out what to do with me. The Rooks were old Charleston money—pearls, yachts, legacy degrees, and scandals polished so smooth they passed for manners. My brother Landon had been raised for chandeliers and handshakes, the…

My name is Lena Calder. I’m thirty-five years old, the youngest in a family that never let me forget the order of things. My sister Vivian married into old money. My brother built his whole life around inheritance. I built mine in silence, one code base, one patent, one buried identity at a time. While…

My name is Isidora Fontaine, but everyone in Charleston who had ever attended a museum gala, a preservation dinner, or one of my family’s impossible Christmas parties called me Izzy, like shortening me might make me easier to dismiss. I was thirty-two years old, the youngest woman in a Southern dynasty that believed appearances were…

My name is Isidora Fontaine, but everyone in Charleston who had ever attended a museum gala, a preservation dinner, or one of my family’s impossible Christmas parties called me Izzy, like shortening me might make me easier to dismiss. I was thirty-two years old, the youngest woman in a Southern dynasty that believed appearances were…

The lock gave way with a dull mechanical click, too smooth for a house this old. My fingers lingered on the handle. One breath. Two. Then I pushed the door open. The same scent hit me first. Mold under paint. Lemon polish trying to fight dust. My shoes touched the warped hardwood with a muffled…

The lock gave way with a dull mechanical click, too smooth for a house this old. My fingers lingered on the handle. One breath. Two. Then I pushed the door open. The same scent hit me first. Mold under paint. Lemon polish trying to fight dust. My shoes touched the warped hardwood with a muffled…