“Well, Brian and I had a great idea, too,” Megan answered.
Amelia felt antsy. She was sitting at the little wooden kitchen table with Michael, a freshly printed special events application squarely in front of her and one of Michael’s black felt-tip pens lined up on the right. She’d been sitting there since she’d left forty-seven messages for her sister or brother-in-law to call back. And now they had. And they had their own idea.
Hers was better. She knew it. She just had to convince Michael to let them do it. “I’m going first,” Amelia declared, breathless.
Megan answered, “No, I am. Listen, Am, we’ve got it!”
Amelia groaned. “Fine! Okay, fine. What’s yours?” They were playful in that back-and-forth, and Amelia was reminded of their youth; little fights about what game was next: Barbies or House? Where they’d eat their PB&Js: the grass or the beach?
“Fireflies in the Field,” Megan began, her voice all drama.
“Ooh!” Amelia punched the phone onto speaker and set it on the table for Michael to hear. She repeated Megan’s words for his benefit and to test them on her tongue. “Fireflies in the Field. Has a ring to it.” She raised her eyebrows to Michael and gave a nod of approval. He did the same, and Amelia added, “What does it mean?”
Megan laughed. “We just pulled up to the lighthouse. I’ll come in and explain everything.”
Michael poured four glasses of wine and by then, Sarah had wandered out from her room, her face still in full makeup and her outfit a fresh dress rather than jammies. Amelia smiled at the girl and asked Michael to whip her up a hot cocoa, but Sarah shook her head.
Megan and Brian started in on a parental inquisition, reminding Amelia just how lenient she’d probably been with the teenager.
“We thought you were home for the night?” Megan asked.
Sarah let out a sigh. “Well, no.” She flicked a glance to Amelia. “There’s an after party on the north beach.” She jutted a chin toward the front door, and Amelia was captivated by the seventeen-year-old’s quick adoption of the local geography. It was like she’d always belonged there, at the lake. Amelia had fallen in love with Sarah. They were kindred spirits, free spirits, both of them.
Amelia started to say have fun! but she was cut off by Brian.
“An after party? An after party for a party?”
“Well, the earlier thing was a bonfire. It was, like, a low-key back-to-school event.” Sarah braced one hand on her hip.
“Clara didn’t say anything about a back-to-school event,” Megan pointed out.
Amelia sank into her chair, growing more aware by degrees that she might be to blame for Sarah’s newfound come-and-go habits. She hadn’t quite been crystal clear with Megan about how she was supervising her niece.
“It’s almost nine o’clock.” Megan flashed her phone at her daughter.
Sarah, ever the smart alec, flashed her phone back at her mother. “You said be home by eleven.”
Uncomfortable with their impasse, Amelia tried to enter the conversation. “How about you call us at ten to check in,” she suggested.
Megan threw a sharp glance at Amelia but softened when Brian squeezed her shoulder. “Sarah,” he said, his tone fatherly and even, sending Amelia into the past like a time machine. Brian was so much like Wendell that Amelia could maybe see why Megan had always been indifferent about the disappearance. As an adult, she’d barely seemed to give it a second thought. Now Amelia knew why. She had her Wendell. Right there in Brian.
“Dad?” Sarah replied, bordering on irreverence and defeat.
Brian glanced at Megan and something passed between them, though Amelia couldn’t read it. Some sort of silent agreement. A compromise.
“Keep your phone on you and check in with us at ten. If we don’t hear from you, we’re coming to look for you.” Megan added a curt nod, and Sarah pranced to them, all supplicating hugs and quick pecks on the cheek before a big smile splashed across her face. She threw a wave to Amelia, plucked her car keys from the side table, then bounded out the door and into Amelia’s sedan—a recent find on some used car trading-and-selling app called FindWheels. Apps were taking over the world, and Amelia was fine with it. Convenience was key anymore.
Megan and Brian’s attention turned to Amelia, who braced for impact.
“An after-party,” Megan scoffed. “Remember those days?”
Amelia’s shoulders relaxed and she grinned. “We were lucky. We had each other to look out for us.”
A frown replaced Megan’s smile. “Sarah didn’t have that in the suburbs. She had a few friends, sure, but she didn’t have a clique. Or a group. No sisters, obviously.”
“It’s a good thing, then,” Amelia replied, staring out the window as headlights spilled across the lake and turned up the beachfront road toward the north shore. “She has more than friends here.”
“Yeah,” Megan agreed. “The girls seem nice. A little young to be out on the beach at night. I’m surprised Matt lets his daughter sort of parade around—”
Amelia cut Megan off, “Vivi? She doesn’t parade around; she owns this place. You should see her and the others. I mean really, no one is going to bother them. They scare people, I think.” Amelia chuckled, but Megan twisted in her seat to look out the window.
“Don’t worry,” Amelia reassured her sister. “They are good girls. They’re good friends, too.”
“Vivi?” Megan asked.
“Paige and Vivi and the others, yes. And Vivi is more than Sarah’s friend, technically,” Amelia pointed out, but a shadow crossed Megan’s face. She fell quiet. Amelia let it go, whatever it was. Sarah was safe. Birch Harbor girls were good ones. Most of them. The ones Sarah had found, at least.
“Okay, so what is your great idea?” Amelia took a long sip of her wine and leaned onto the table, all her attention back on Operation Fireflies.
Megan copied her, taking a drink and leaning forward. “It’s an app. A dating app. Brian is going to start building a program, and we are going to use it in our business description.” Megan’s eyes flitted down to the page in front of Amelia, and she reached across and tapped it with a dark nail. “Judith Carmichael had the idea herself. If we make this into an app-based business with a live event component, then it’s sturdier. You know?”
It was almost too perfect. Like Megan and Brian had found out Amelia’s idea and played directly into it.
“Um, wow,” she answered simply, looking back at Michael.
He cleared his throat. “Good thinking,” he added and smiled at Amelia, allowing her to take the stage.
Megan leaned back. “It’s a great plan. A great name, too. Judith can’t say no if we reframe our whole business plan. We’re showing the town that this is not just some one-off party. It’s the real deal.”
Amelia smiled again. “It’s a gorgeous name. And you’re right. They will have to take you seriously.” She bit her lower lip, keeping down the scream that was building up in her throat. The sheer excitement that Megan and Brian’s idea was going to work so perfectly with hers.
“But?” Megan asked, glancing at Brian, who covered her hand with his on top of Amelia’s table. “What is it? You’re holding back,” she accused, her eyebrows furrowing.
Swallowing, Amelia pressed her fingers onto the printed application and swiveled it one hundred and eighty degrees then picked up the pen and pointed to the line she’d completed for her sister and brother-in-law.
She tapped the name she’d written there and lifted an eyebrow at Megan. “It looks like we were on the same page.”
29
Megan
Michael did not submit the application for them this time. In fact, he was hesitant about the whole thing, crying foul over the ethics of submitting a new permits application for the same business but under a different name.
Megan and Amelia held his feet to the fire and spent the next morning with Michael in his office. There, he waded through paperwork, finally settling on the fact that no, what th
ey were doing was not illegal. And so long as he wasn’t representing or delivering the new application, it might be a little better received.
After they finished completing the new pages, Michael drove them to the house on the harbor where they explained everything to Kate and Clara and were left to sit waiting.
Brian didn’t take long. All he had to do was drop the application with the town council’s secretary then drive back to the harbor.
Soon enough, they were all back together, at the kitchen island, each with a steaming mug of coffee.
The night before, Sarah had called at ten, as she promised, and then made it home by eleven, as she promised. Megan knew she was dependable and capable of making good choices, and she knew Sarah deserved to have a little fun and embed herself in the social circles of Birch Harbor. Even so, an undercurrent of fear ran along Megan’s spine when Sarah didn’t turn up for breakfast right away.
“She’s sleeping in,” Amelia had reminded Megan.
“I’d like her to be here for this,” Megan complained.
“For what? You might not hear back about the permit for a few days.”
“I know, but I want… I just want things to be perfect. I miss her, okay? I miss my daughter; there, I said it.”
Kate squeezed Megan’s shoulders, and Clara set her mug down. “I’ll go get her and bring her. I agree. We should all be here. A big family breakfast. After all, the rest of the week is so hectic.”
The chimes over the front door clanged to life, and Megan peered through the doorway. There was Sarah, and at her shoulder, the white-blonde Vivi and one of the other girls, an older one.
Matt was on a project inland, so it was a little odd to see his daughter in such a confusing context. Still, Megan reminded herself that Vivi was not in the loop on the family drama. She was simply there as Sarah’s friend. Nothing more.
Sarah confirmed as much when she made delicate introductions. “Everyone, this is Vivi and Paige. Vivi and Paige, this is… everyone.” Sarah giggled nervously, and the group waved hello to the girls.
Megan watched Kate as she scrambled awkwardly to set about getting plates for the girls and sending them outside.
“It’s weird to have teenagers around again,” Kate commented, once the girls, clad in their swimsuits with messy beach hair and bright tan lines, had taken their paper plates and flip-flopped down to the beach. Megan and the others carried their mugs through the back door, too, settling onto the porch.
“It’s weird that Vivi runs with the older girls,” Clara said once they eased into the cushiony patio set.
Megan nodded in agreement. “I thought the same thing.” She stole a nervous glance at Brian, who was at the porch table in a conversation with Michael about forming an LLC for the app and filing for copyrights and trademarks and all the boring things that came with establishing a legitimate business. The things that Brian was good at and that Megan couldn’t wrap her head around.
“Actually,” Megan confessed, her voice lowering, “I first thought it was weird that Sarah was hanging out with younger girls.” She gave a worried look to Kate, her oldest sister and wisest.
“No,” Kate shook her head. “It seems weird because they are in high school, but that age gap shrinks over time. Look at us,” she passed her hand around and then pointed right to Megan. “Megs, you’re four years younger than me, and we were friends at that age.”
Megan gave her a look. “You had a one-year-old even before I started high school.”
It was the first joke.
The first one ever. No one had dared to make any light remark about the Kate-Clara thing. It was still just that—a thing. Ambiguous and tender.
Megan ran her tongue between her lips and winced. “Sorry. It was supposed to be a joke.”
Kate smiled, answering Megan as she studied Clara. “I wish I’d had her. But Clara wasn’t mine back then.”
Megan laughed nervously. “True, I guess she was Mom’s.”
“No,” Kate answered, her eyes still on Clara. “She was ours.”
A broad smile broke out across Clara’s face, and Megan reached over the table and grabbed her little sister’s hand and squeezed. Amelia added hers on top, and Kate added hers.
Amelia said, “Who cares who she belonged to? Who any of us belong to? We’re sisters.”
“We’re family,” Amelia added.
The moving moment was cut short by Brian, who all but yelped. “My phone!” he said. “It’s ringing.”
Megan’s hand slipped from her sisters’ and she stood and crossed to her husband, reading the unfamiliar numbers as they flashed across his screen. “Would they really call?” she asked.
“Only if it’s bad news,” Kate surmised.
“Answer it,” Michael directed. “We’ll find out.”
“Brian Stevenson speaking,” he said for all to hear. Megan reached to the screen and tapped the speaker, shushing the others with her finger.
“Brian, hi. This is Gene Carmichael.”
30
Megan
Her mouth fell open, and when Megan glanced around the porch, she saw her sisters’ had, too.
Brian looked at Megan, clearly unsure how to proceed. She nudged him.
“Hi, Mr. Carmichael. How can I help you?”
“I want to call and, um, well… I was hoping you won’t mind if I insert myself into your private business here. Yours and your wife’s, I mean.”
Megan’s eye grew wider now, and she shook her head then took the phone. “Mr. Carmichael, hello. This is Megan. Brian and I are here with my family. We have you on speaker.”
“Oh,” Gene Carmichael replied unevenly.
Michael cleared his throat and held a hand to Megan as if to bring her down. He was obviously distressed, but Megan waved him off, replied with a small, calm smile and stood with the device in her hand. “Mr. Carmichael, I’m going to step away from my family for a moment. I’d love to talk to you personally, if you won’t mind?”
Megan had never considered herself belligerent. She wasn’t the sort to argue with the manager of Target over a coupon. But she didn’t shy away from confrontation, either.
She first learned this about herself when she got a job as a summer camp counselor for Birch Kids Camp. A sweet little disabled boy had come one year, and as it became clearer and clearer to the teenaged Megan that he would continue to be left out of most of the activities, she went to the camp director and, well, gave him a piece of her mind. She cited discrimination and exclusion and threatened the poor twenty-something that if he didn’t find a way to let the kid have fun, too, then she was quitting. That’s the only card Megan thought she had to play, after all.
What she didn’t know at the time was how serious a charge she was making. After a swift and misdirected reprimand for insubordination, things escalated beyond Megan’s involvement. Other counselors supported her position and someone’s mother got involved. It ended with a dramatic overhaul of the Kids Camp.
Megan had won.
Her anger had won justice for the boy, but it came with a small price. She was quickly deemed a hot head and ended up floundering to find another local job the next summer. And the next summer after that and then so forth right up until the present.
Walking now down toward the beach, she took Gene Carmichael off speaker and sucked in a deep breath. “Mr. Carmichael, I’m sorry to barge in, but I assume that you’re calling for me, really. Rather than Brian.” She stopped at the sea wall and turned on a heel. “I can give the phone back to him in a moment, but I wanted to talk to you about—”
“No,” he interrupted. “I did want to speak with you, but it was Brian’s phone number I found on the application. Right beneath his name.”
She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her head. He’d seen the application. He’d seen their little scheme to subvert the process with a new application and a different requestor’s name and a slightly different business plan.
Brian dropped off a special even
ts permit request for an upstart app called Fireflies in the Field. They were hosting an inaugural event, and the founding company member Brian Stevenson, not Megan Hannigan, would run it. No conflict of interest. No Hannigan family monopoly. And no lascivious undertones. A family business with a plan for a highly successful smart phone application to draw in tourism and connect locals all in one, romantic, fell swoop. Conveniently, and under Amelia’s direction, they did not make any mention of the previous application OR the fact that Megan and Brian were a team.
Still, with the new plan, there was no way the town council could, in good faith, turn them down. Not without a fight. The new application answered every last concern. This wasn’t Madison Square Garden that Megan was trying to rent out for a weekend. It was her own property. And the party wasn’t some Mardi Gras bender. It was a tasteful cocktail hour with hostesses and croissants and lemonade and fireflies, for goodness’ sake.
But clearly, Judith Carmichael had been present when Brian dropped off the application. Clearly the secretary took it to her, musing in hushed whispers that something seemed fishy.
And clearly Gene was there, too.
“Oh,” Megan replied, unmoored and pacing in short strides across a corner of the grass just inside the seawall. “Okay.”
“You know, Megan, I owe you an apology. Your whole family, probably,” Gene went on.
She stopped pacing. “For what?”
A sigh came through the line before he answered. “Frankly, I owe Nora an apology, mostly. I sort of terrorized her. For a long time.”
“My mother? You… terrorized her?” Megan flipped around to glance at the others up on the porch. They were watching, and she turned back into the little corner and faced the marina. From that spot, she had such a clear view of the dock and the slips and the bobbing boats… she could hear everything… see everything. She wondered what that view had been for her mom. Her lonely mom with no husband and that big, looming house on the harbor.
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