The young woman sits up, suddenly interested. “Oh shit. That was you on the Ivy Bay?” She glances at my hands. “I heard you held Oscar up until we got there.”
“You were there?” I ask, finally reaching the counter. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember much.”
“Shock does that,” she replies. “Yeah, I was piloting the boat. I’m Coast Guard Reserve. Wish it were my full-time gig but my mom needs me to help out here. I’m Kristi Vasquez.” She takes one of my hands from the counter and looks at my knuckles. “Hold on.”
She disappears for a few seconds and comes back with a small pair of cotton gloves and some ointment.
“We use these to do inventory,” she says, indicating the gloves with a shrug. “Fancy rich people don’t want our dirty fingerprints on their shit.”
She rubs some of the goo on my hands and slips on the gloves. “It looks weird, but it’ll help a ton. Arnica gel is great for reducing swelling and bruising. Gloves are to keep it on you and not everything else.”
“Thanks.” My hands aren’t as flexible as I’d like—it’ll make it hard to draw up my plans later.
“The Ivy Bay didn’t sink,” Kristi says, excitement returning to her voice. “They’re going to salvage it later today. I’d love to work that but I’m stuck here.”
She looks glumly around the empty store.
“Will you even get any more business?”
“Probably not, but we’re barely making ends meet. If I miss even one sale it could make a difference. My mother is at our liquor store and that really needs to be staffed this time of year.”
“Kristi. I have an idea that could get us both what we need. You saved my life. I need a ton of clothes. If I spend an insane amount of money in here, could you close for the day and work the salvage?”
She looks unsure.
“I’m planning a party,” I continue. “And I’m going to need a lot of alcohol, plus food and decorations. And I could really use someone local to point me in the right direction.”
“It’s going to be hard to find some of that stuff. Lots of things sold out.” She looks longingly out the window, toward freedom.
“An insane amount of money,” I say again. “I’ll make it worth your family’s while. I promise.”
Finally convinced, Kristi pops off her stool and locks the door. “Let’s get you some new clothes, then. Lots of ugly shit here but you seem resourceful.”
She’s right about that.
Kristi and I talk about her Coast Guard dreams while I try clothes on. I file her comments away. Any event planner knows that networking is the key to success, and I’ll be on the lookout to make connections to help Kristi get what she wants in return for her help.
We’re mostly done, and then I spot a fabulous dress in the corner. It’s a dark green body con, backless, except for two thin lace panels on either side. It’s long sleeved with a scoop neck, and it’s absolutely perfect for the party. Too bad about the leopard print Jimmy Choos. They would’ve gone beautifully. When I try it on, Kristi nods approvingly.
“Girl, some guy is going to glue his zipper shut when he sees you in that dress.”
My first thought is of Vinny, but I’m sure he’ll just think I’m frivolous for not sewing a gown out of my uncle’s old t-shirt.
“This is the dress, then. You’ll come, right?”
“To your party? Me? When is it?”
“Yes, you. It’s going to be at my uncle’s inn on the twenty-third. They have an event space and I want to show it off to attract some business.” I can’t help but smile.
I’d been worried about getting Uncle Danny’s approval when the real hurdle will be pulling all the pieces together, but I know I can do it. I have to do it. I hadn’t been able to reach Danny when Drew had died. I handled everything wrong and made the situation even worse. When Kieran told me how excited our uncle was about the inn, I knew I had to do what I could to make it a huge success.
“Sure. I love parties.”
“Invite anyone you want.” I look at her carefully. She’s a gorgeous woman. Not much taller than I am, but with an incredible hourglass figure. Hopefully my next question lands better with her than it did with Vinny. “You have anyone special?”
She fidgets, and there’s my answer.
“You met him. Well, kind of.” She smirks. “He’s in the Coast Guard Reserve too. Tall skinny Swedish kid, Sven. He’s a first-generation immigrant like I am. Great guy but totally oblivious.”
A new mission presents itself. I love helping people.
“Okay. Let’s get you a dress that’ll make it impossible for Sven to stay oblivious.”
Her smirk morphs into a grin.
“It’s the least I can do. Plus, the holidays are a magical time. You have to strike while the iron is hot. Maybe he’ll be at the salvage?”
We spend some time finding her a dress. It’s not easy—the clothes are geared for women older than Kristi—but I find something we can style for her, and true to my word, I add it to my purchases and spend a gigantic sum of money.
Kristi whistles at the total, sliding my credit card through.
“Event planners must make bank,” she says.
“Well, I target rich people, and this is part of the investment. And I’m lucky because I have family money.”
“Well thank you for spending so much of it here,” Kristi says, her grin returning as she hands me my receipt. “Let’s load your stuff into my car and get back to Oak Bluffs. We can talk about where to get the rest of your stuff on the way?”
“Great!”
Vinny can waste his time being bitter and lonely. I’ve got more important things to do.
6
Sia
“Do you have a partner back in Boston?” Kristi asks as we head to Oak Bluffs.
“No,” I reply. “For a while I was too focused on getting my business off the ground, but now it’s just hard to find anyone who isn’t a shallow creep.”
“Lots of depressed addicts here in the winter, and rich assholes in the summer,” Kristi says, nodding. “There’s this manic rush in the summer that leaves a lot of people needing some kind of high when it’s over.”
I try not to cringe at the addicts comment. “I spent a lot of time here during the summer when I was a kid.” I look out the window. The ocean is still choppy, but nothing like yesterday.
“So you’re a rich asshole?”
Her cheeky tone makes me laugh. “Me, not so much. Some of my family? Sure, especially then. They were all about broadcasting their status. Going to all the right parties. Being seen by all the right people. Didn’t matter if those people were monsters or not.”
Like the sons of the rich businessmen with their easy connections to drugs that Drew started running with.
“I don’t mean to sound like a dick,” Kristi says, “but isn’t that kind of what you’re doing now?”
“It’s a good question.” I appreciate her honesty. It’s so much simpler to respond to genuine questions than it is to defend against smug accusations. “My goal is to bring people together. To make connections and help folks find community. Doing that through celebrations is really fun. I definitely run some exclusive events, but I do that to fund my more inclusive ones. It’s not the noblest way to get things done, but it’s effective.” Maybe if Drew had found a different, better community, he wouldn’t have died.
“Whatever works for you.”
We pull up to the inn. Vinny is on his roof. He’s wearing jeans and a blue plaid flannel shirt.
Kristi whistles again. “Now there’s a specimen.”
“Too bad he’s an asshole,” I huff.
“Never heard anyone call Vinny an asshole before,” she says, switching off the car. “He’s always so even-keeled. Did he emote at you? Did you catch an actual feeling from Mr. Cool?”
“He thinks I’m a vapid fake.”
He wipes his brow with his forearm. His sleeves are rolled up, and my mouth goes dry. His arms are thi
ckly muscled. I imagine the rest of him is too.
Don’t go there, Sia. He can’t stand you. Doesn’t get you at all.
“I can see that,” Kristi replies, opening her door.
“Kristi,” It comes out like a shriek. “I thought we had something here!”
“I don’t think you’re a vapid fake,” she says, popping the trunk. My uncle comes out of the house. “But I can see someone like Vinny thinking that. He’s a serious guy. Very minimalist.”
She doesn’t say “unlike you,” but it’s there. What’s the virtue in austerity for austerity’s sake? I’ve never understood that. Frugality I understand, cheapness I do not. Life’s too short to be cheap, and I like sharing what I have.
“Give it some time,” Kristi continues. “He knows what you went through to help Oscar. A vapid fake wouldn’t have wrecked her nails keeping an old fisherman from drowning.”
Why should I waste any of my time on him?
“Seraphina,” Uncle Danny says, coming up to the car. “You look so much better.”
“Seraphina?” Kristi repeats, both eyebrows up now.
“Thanks.” Is this because I could’ve died? Is it why he forgave me so easily and calls me by my full name? “It’s all Kristi’s doing.”
“Ah, Ms. Vasquez.” My uncle beams at her. “Saving my niece again.”
“It’s only because she gave us a literal ton of money.” Kristi flashes a shark-like smile. “I’m going to head out to the salvage now.”
Uncle Danny keeps snatching bags from me as I try to take them from Kristi’s trunk.
“Oh, you should be on that team,” he exclaims, turning to me. “No one can pilot a boat like Kristi. Vinny says so all the time, and you know he’s not exactly effusive with his praise.”
“So I’ve noticed,” I deadpan. “Thanks for the leads on the party planning, Kristi. I’ll follow up with you about the liquor order?” I could use some of that liquor right now. I should make something sweet and girly, like a cosmo, just to offend Vinny as much as possible.
“Yep. I’ll get the word out about the big shindig.” She shoots a look up at Vinny.
“You going to cater this thing?” she shouts.
He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s hammering. Whether he can’t hear us or is ignoring us is anyone’s guess.
“He’s an incredible cook. Only serves like two things, but they’re fucking delicious. Anyway, see ya.”
She takes off, leaving us in the driveway.
Two items on the menu? Kristi is right—he’s a minimalist through and through.
“Vinny, you mind giving us a hand?” Uncle Danny calls.
Oh hell no. I don’t need him looking at all my bags and scoffing at my frivolous materialism.
“It’s fine,” I say, slinging bags over my arm. “Kristi gave me something for the scrapes, and I think it’ll help if I move my hands a little. I don’t want them to lock up.”
“You sure, honey? Vinny’s a strong guy.”
“I’m sure. He’s busy.”
Of course, Vinny’s on his way down the ladder anyway, and panic rises in my throat. Who cares what he thinks of me? He can make all the assumptions he wants. But I don’t want to give him more ammunition.
Thankfully I’m wearing the flats I bought as I power walk into the house and carry my purchases up to the third floor. All of the second floor and most of the third floor are guest rooms, but there are some that couldn’t be converted.
That shouldn’t be.
That’s where family stays.
I pile my bags in the corner.
This is Drew’s old room. Part of me thinks I should be upset about it, but it’s surprisingly comforting. We spent a ton of time here as kids. Drew was older than me, but not so much older that he excluded me. We were a fierce duo, until we weren’t.
Until he decided he didn’t need me anymore because I was too much of a goody-two-shoes for his edgy new friends and their drugs.
My heart beats too quickly, and I take a minute, just breathing. My uncle stands in the doorway when I open my eyes.
“You okay, honey?” he asks.
I’ve come to terms with the loss as best I could. I thought it’d be easier as I got older, but now, nearly ten years out, I find myself looking at those terrible events through an adult lens and see all the things I did wrong. I could’ve turned Drew into the police numerous times and had him sent to rehab, but I was too afraid he’d hate me forever to go through with it.
I wish he were alive to hate me.
And of course I’d tried to talk to my uncle about him last time I was here. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I was letting Drew down again, this time by not trying harder to wrest Danny out of his self-imposed isolation. I’d thought that since we were both still grieving we could work through that pain together.
But it was wrong of me to assume that was something he wanted to share. My parents had always scolded me for my excess of feelings.
Keep it cheerful and light, Sia, or you’ll scare people away.
I hadn’t followed that advice with my uncle and had deeply regretted it ever since.
“Fine.” I force as much cheer into my voice as I can. “I’m really glad to be here, Uncle Danny.”
He hugs me, and when he lets go I see Vinny standing at the door. He’s holding a bag.
“Forgot one.”
His face is neutral. The lack of expression is kind of creepy if you ask me.
“Thanks,” I reply. “Do you mind putting it there?” I nod to the corner. His mask seems to slip for a moment when he sees the pile.
Fine then. Let him dislike me for buying some goddamn underwear. He probably just wears boxers sewn together from burlap scraps and treats the chafing like a badge of honor. Or maybe he goes commando. I watch as he leaves, wondering what’s under those jeans.
Girl, focus.
My uncle and I head downstairs to the ballroom where he’s left some boxes.
“I haven’t looked inside them.” He’s nervous. “It’s been ages, Sia. Everything in there could be moldy.”
Or it could be too painful to look at. But we don’t need to say that.
The ballroom itself is on the small side. Probably fits about one hundred people. Kieran and I suppose Vinny did a great job with the renovation, bringing the old Victorian space back to life. The wood floors are polished and glowing. Six ornate crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and intricate wainscoting runs across the walls. The bottom paneling is painted white, and the top paneling is covered in elegant bluish-gray wallpaper with a subtle floral etching done in pewter.
The difference from the dilapidated pit it was when I last saw it is incredible.
Vinny probably liked the pit better. More authentic.
“It looks so much bigger,” I say, spinning around.
“The boys took out some unnecessary beams and columns. Anything that wasn’t load bearing. It’s going to host a lot of weddings, I hope. Create some happy memories for folks. We’ll start with your party though.”
My uncle leaves me to my devices. He can’t sort through the boxes with me, and I understand. I can handle it myself. I’ve opened the first one when I feel someone looking at me.
Vinny’s there in his work clothes still. It’s hard not to tell him to take off his dirty steel toed boots. They’ll leave the floor a mess.
Still, a specimen indeed. I hate that I find him so attractive.
“How’s your roof?” I’ll kill him with kindness.
“It’s coming along. I’m waiting on some shingles. They can’t ship on the ferry until the seas calm down.”
“Probably good to wait. I’m glad my cousins aren’t coming out until Tuesday.”
The day of my party if everything goes as planned. And it’d better.
“Hopefully we won’t get any more storms between now and then,” he says.
Between now and then? It’s three days from now. What is wrong with him? Does he not want my family
to make it out? I thought Kieran was his friend.
“Looks clear so far.” My reply is as chipper as possible.
If he doesn’t want to observe the social contract and make polite conversation, then there’s no reason why I have to either. I turn back to my boxes and pull a pile of bubble wrap out.
There are dozens of ornaments in the box. Beautiful glass ornaments hand painted by my Aunt Kathleen, the mother of my Doyle cousins. That’s what happened to the rest of these, stored away on Martha’s Vineyard to be discovered on this wintry afternoon. Along with these, she’d painted special ones for all of the kids in the family.
I have the one she painted for Drew. It had been in my sainted tote bag. It’s why my lizard brain refused to let it go. I thought maybe my uncle would want it, eventually. Not that the ice prince Vinny would understand that level of sentimentality. One ornament catches the light when I hold it up. It’s so big that I need to cradle it with two hands. My aunt had painted a series of glittery snowflakes. My ornament, which I’d left at home, has my name, the year I was born, and an angel.
Unpacking a few more, I hold each new design up to the light.
The amount of care that went into creating these is astonishing, and it’s a shame they’ve been wasting away in a bubble wrap prison in a dark basement.
“They deserve light,” I say to myself.
I forget Vinny is there until I hear him chuckle.
I’m sure he wouldn’t agree. Why have anything beautiful when you can have a smug sense of superiority instead.
“My aunt made these,” I snap.
“She was really talented,” he replies.
I’m surprised to hear him say it, and my defenses fall slightly.
“Making things with your hands that people can use is a great use of talent,” he continues. “And more meaningful than just buying things.”
Okay, maybe I was too quick to let those defenses fall.
He has no idea what my talents are, or what I do with them. But why bother being curious when you can be a self-righteous dick.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, putting the ornament I’m holding down.
His expression goes cold. “Whatever you think it does.”
Hooked: A Christmas Romance: The Doyles, Boston Irish Mafia Romance Page 3