Free The End of Innocence by Allegra Jordan

another crewmate of ours, Jackson Vaughn, have been in some sick contest about who was more suicidal over losing their girl. Max seems to have won.”
    â€œMax loved a girl enough to kill himself?”
    â€œPossibly,” said Peter testily. “He is, after all, dead. Something killed him.”
    She waved him off. “Really, Peter. Do you see Mother or Father killing themselves if one of them walked away? I would rather think that they’d enjoy the time apart.”
    â€œGoodness, Helen! What is the matter with you? You’ve never been in love like he was. His girl left him and he was inconsolable. Wils told me he could barely get out of bed after it happened.”
    â€œWhat happened?” came a voice from the door. Ann Lowell stood at the door carrying a round toile-covered hatbox tied with a white organza bow. Helen and Peter turned swiftly.
    â€œMiss Lowell!” said Peter, his countenance completely changed. He walked past Helen quickly and took the box from Ann’s arms. “I thought you were at the Adams funeral,” he said gently.
    She smiled prettily back at him. Her golden hair was tied up with a black bow and fell in ringlets over her shoulders. Her skin was perfectly white, and contrasted with the black lace on her formal Sunday dress. As she smiled, she lifted her almond-shaped eyes and gazed adoringly at Peter. The look helped remind Helen that it was now her Christian duty to be happy about being a distant second in her best friend’s affections.
    â€œThe funeral was quickly over and my parents wanted to leave for Maine for a week. So I came early,” said Ann.
    She turned to Helen and her eyes suddenly widened. “Is that a new ring?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” said Helen, walking over and showing Ann her hand. “Father gave it to me this morning.” Peter hadn’t even noticed. What Ann saw in him was completely beyond Helen. Now that she and Ann lived together, perhaps they could be as close as they used to be, before Peter decided Helen’s best friend should be his.
    â€œI wish I’d kept my men to help move you, Ann,” interrupted Peter.
    â€œThank you, Peter,” she said, her cheeks dimpling. “I thought I would need more help, but I met a member of your crew team outside.”
    â€œCheers!” came a British accent from the hallway, and it was Helen’s turn to smile. Riley Spencer walked in, carrying a large steamer trunk that he set down by one of the stuffed chairs. She noticed he was pale and his tie was loose. He looked harried. “Sorry I’m late. I must have written down the wrong time,” he said with a glare at Peter. “Jackson Vaughn said he was given a different time than you told me this morning.”
    â€œJackson didn’t show up either. He’s all right, is he?” asked Peter.
    â€œNo, he’s not. Jackson is still despondent. He’s having nightmares. But he’s not as bad as Wils today. Or Max,” said Riley quietly.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with Wils?”
    â€œTerrible headache.” He lowered his voice. “Too much champagne.”
    Peter winced. “Champagne headaches are the worst. Terrible business, all.” The two men nodded.
    â€œWould you help Ann?” Peter asked after a respectful pause.
    â€œOf course,” said Riley. “But I just need to catch my breath after bringing up this heavy steamer trunk. Be down in a second.”
    Peter offered Ann his arm, and turned to give Helen a concerned look before he shut the door. The pair sat in silence for a minute as Riley caught his breath. Helen noticed he had little of the cheer he’d brought to the dance.
    â€œRiley, I’m sorry about the loss of von Steiger,” said Helen after some length. “Did you know him well?”
    He shook his head. “My cousin, Wils, was his friend back in Germany. Von Steiger’s father acted as Wils’s father after