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DECEMBER WENT BY quicker than anyone wanted. Sabrina had been receiving RSVP cards back from her guests for weeks, and she collected them by the kitchen island in a pile. The Harper Watch holiday party was too close for comfort. One evening, Sabrina asked Sloane to check the mailbox in the building lobby for more RSVP cards. "It's imperative that I know the guest count and their meal choice by tomorrow," she told her daughter. "I have to contact the caterer and event planner tomorrow. There's just too much to do."
Sloane had never thought planning a party was that big of a deal, but when she noticed the pile of RSVPs adding up in the kitchen, she could understand why her mother was stressed. Where was Frank to help out with this? This party was for his business after all.
Rolling her eyes at the thought, Sloane had taken the elevator down and walked over to the wall of large mailboxes, all owned by Long Island City's elite. She stuck her mom's tiny key in the lock and turned. Automatically, RSVP cards started falling from the box, and Sloane had to act quickly to catch them. She gathered what was in the mailbox and began sifting through the names. No one she really recognized, but these were Frank's employees and different media companies. The Little People working for the Big Guy. Sloane frowned at the date on the cards. The holiday party was coming up this Saturday. Ugh. And she still needed a dress.
Sloane had been blindly sifting until her fingers paused. There was one card in this pile that wasn't filled out. There was no name or address, only a RETURN TO SENDER stamp on the front. Sloane's brow furrowed, turning it over, and her hand stilled.
In the meal of choice selection on the back side of the card, a person had simply written the word, YOU, in bright red Sharpie.
━━━━━━
Sloane blinked, bringing herself back to reality as she tore through the dress rack in front of her. She hadn't stopped thinking about that RSVP card since she found it in the mail a few days ago. Obviously, she didn't give it to Sabrina; she simply stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans and hoped to forget about it. She didn't. It haunted her nightmares, and even her daydreams, wondering if the Jawbreaker would dare to show their face.
