Chapter Twelve
Tamsin leaned back against the headrest of her plane seat. She hadn’t slept well and hoped to catch up on some much-needed rest, although her prospects for doing so didn’t look promising. The chattering of middle-aged ladies, some of them with a nice tan on their faces, wasn’t conducive to a power nap.
She’d asked for the window seat so she could at least stare outside—if she looked to her right, she would see Diane sitting at the other end of the three-seat row.
Diane.
All through the night, Tamsin had asked herself the same question: why had she said that silly thing about the solo trip? It had flummoxed them both to the extent that Diane had barely finished her glass of wine.
For the life of her, Tamsin couldn’t figure out why those words had left her mouth. She like
