“Whoa, hang on a second . . .” he said, narrowing his eyes to get a better look. “Is that eagle holding a dick?”
* * *
The men managed to get rid of the ice sculpture just in time. No sooner had they loaded it back onto the truck than the first guests began to arrive. As with the Memorial Day barbecue, the Silvesters had hired a small army of helpers to assist with passing out food and drinks and cleaning up. White-clad servers milled around the living room, porch, and pool deck, picking up empty cocktail glasses and passing around pigs in a blanket that Lizzie had made, with help from three mute women who were part of the temporary staff. Lizzie wished they’d been around for the past two days, when she had to boil twenty pounds of potatoes and chop so many onions she wondered if her eyes would ever stop watering. She knew it was her own fault for claiming she could do larger parties, but she hadn’t realized how thoroughly draining it would be to run a catering operation.
Renata ordered the servers around, making sure every dish was properly arranged with the coordinating label and that each label clearly identified whether the item was vegan, kosher, gluten-free, nut-free, dairy-free, and/or Paleo. Lizzie had given Kathryn a list of what was what a few days ago, and Kathryn had passed the list along to Ken, who managed to deliver gorgeous star-spangled cards with all of the information written in festive calligraphy. It was another triumph for Ken, but even combined with all of the other successes, Lizzie doubted it was enough to make up for the ice sculpture.
The crowd steadily grew as the afternoon wore on, and Lizzie worked feverishly to replenish the snacks and hors d’oeuvres as she prepared to transition to the main meal of hot dogs and burgers. She had more help today than she did at the last party and was able to turn over the grilling responsibilities to two men named Luis and Jon, while she dressed the salads and garnished the side dishes.
Even with the help, she was sweating like crazy. Despite the hot and humid temperatures, Kathryn had insisted Lizzie wear her chef’s coat (“It’s more professional, don’t you think? And safer. No burns on my watch!”). Lizzie couldn’t argue with Kathryn that a starched, white coat was both more polished and protective than, say, a bathing suit, but as beads of sweat raced down her back she wished she were cooking in a bikini.
As Lizzie brought out a platter of pickled vegetables, she scanned the room for April. Given Kathryn’s hysteria earlier in the day, she hadn’t wanted to ask what time April might arrive. Kathryn probably didn’t have any idea, and knowing April, she’d be fashionably late (though Lizzie always thought April’s idea of what was “fashionable” bordered on rude). Lizzie hoped April wasn’t too late, or they might not have a chance to talk. Not that it mattered, really. After all this time, Lizzie didn’t really expect to patch things up in an evening. But the more she’d thought about the way they’d left things, the worse she felt and the more she wanted April to know she felt that way. Even if it didn’t change anything, even if they never became friends again, she at least wanted April to know she was aware she’d been a shitty friend. Recently this had become very important to Lizzie, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps the downward spiral of her career had made her more reflective and self-aware, as if the person she was now and the person she was then were so different that she could view that younger woman with fresh, dispassionate eyes. Or maybe so many people had now cast her aside that she saw their relationship from April’s perspective and realized what a crappy friend she’d been. Or maybe she was just getting older.
The crowd was thick, so Lizzie couldn’t easily pick out faces, but from what she could tell, April hadn’t arrived yet. The only person she could identify so far was Zoe, who appeared at the top of the stairway just as Lizzie was heading back to the butler’s pantry. Zoe wore a maxi dress in a bold Hawaiian print of bright blues, greens, and yellows, her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders in long, sparkly waves. She stood next to a young man about her age, whose defining characteristic, at least to Lizzie, was that he was both shirtless and shoeless.
Lizzie slowed her step and tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help it. He had the sort of rippled abs she’d only ever seen in Calvin Klein underwear advertisements, and his skin was a deep butterscotch. She wasn’t attracted to him. She was more fascinated that he obviously thought it was appropriate to show up almost naked to an adult party thrown by multimillionaires. He was probably only twenty-two or twenty-three, but his age didn’t fully explain his nakedness. Maybe he was a relative? It was possible, but that didn’t explain it either. Lizzie may not have grown up in Gladwyne, but she knew showing up without a shirt or shoes was pretty tacky, even if he were the Silvesters’ own son.
But to whatever extent Zoe’s shirtless and shoeless friend scandalized Lizzie (and, if their expressions were to be believed, many of the Silvesters’ guests), he thrilled Zoe, who appeared to revel in everyone’s shock.
Ah, Lizzie thought. She wondered if it had been his decision to show up this way or if Zoe had goaded him into it. Zoe seemed to love getting a rise out of people, her parents in particular. Her only disappointment was probably that he didn’t have any weird piercings and that he didn’t show up completely nude.
Zoe caught Lizzie’s eye, and though Lizzie tried to look away and pretend she hadn’t been staring, it was too late.
“Did you put out the burgers yet?” she asked, making her way toward Lizzie, her shirtless friend at her side.
“Not yet. Soon.”
“You made vegan ones, right?”
“Yep. And the special sauce is made with Vegenaise.”
“Cool. Trevor is a vegan, too.” She gestured to her friend. “Trevor, this is our cook for the summer, Lizzie.”
“Hey.” He raised his hand in a way that made Lizzie unsure if he was saying “hi” or waiting to give her a high five. She kept her focus on his eyes, trying very hard not to let them wander to his exposed stomach.
“Wait . . . I’ve seen you before,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, she used to have a cooking show,” Zoe said before Lizzie could answer. “Healthy U. It got canceled a while ago.”
“No, no—I mean around here.”
Lizzie studied his face. He didn’t look familiar. “I don’t think so,” she said.
“You sure? I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere. Have you been hanging at The Princeton? Or Jack’s?”
Lizzie shook her head. She hadn’t been hanging anywhere but the Silvesters’ house, at least not with any regularity.
“What about—”
“Jesus, Trevor, let it go. She’s my parents’ cook. She doesn’t party. You probably saw her pumping gas or something.” Zoe looked at Lizzie. “Trevor works at the Sunoco on Ocean Drive.”
“The one across from Avalon Seafood?” Lizzie asked.
Trevor nodded. “Pumping gas like a boss.”
“That’s probably where you saw me. I got gas there the other week.”
Trevor elbowed Zoe. “See? What’d I tell you? Trevor never forgets a face.”
Zoe rolled her eyes, but her attention quickly shifted to her mother, who was flitting around the living room, in perfect hostess form.
“Looks like Mom is making small talk,” Zoe said, though if Lizzie had to guess, nothing about Kathryn’s talk was small. “Let’s go and say hi. I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”
But before Zoe and Trevor could make their way to Kathryn, Kathryn caught sight of them and made a beeline toward the kitchen.
“Zoe,” she said, her smile tight at she reached them. “I didn’t realize you were bringing a friend.”
“You said I could invite people.”
“I did. But you told me everyone you knew already had better plans—though honestly I don’t know what could be better than this!”
“Kind of anything?”
Lizzie couldn’t understand why Zoe acted like a bratty teenager so much of the time. She seemed to want it both ways—the respect and independence of an adult but also the financi
al support and attitude of a child. When would she realize she wasn’t entitled to the former if she insisted on the latter?
“Anyway, some of Trevor’s plans fell through, so. . . .” Zoe gave her mother a supercilious look. “I can tell him to leave if it’s a problem.”
“Of course it isn’t a problem,” Kathryn said. “You are both welcome.”
“Really? Because you don’t exactly seem—”
“It’s fine. Honestly.” Kathryn’s eyes quickly ran up and down the length of Trevor’s body. Her smile tightened, as if she was willing herself to be fine—fine!—with his exposed chest and bare feet. “I’m sorry—Trevor, was it?”
“Yup,” he said, nodding slowly.
“Trevor, welcome. I’m Kathryn. Feel free to help yourself to some snacks—Lizzie here has whipped up some delicious hors d’oeuvres. And there’s lots more coming. Burgers, hot dogs, potato salad. A real Fourth of July feast!”
“Sweet.”
Lizzie waited for him to add a, Thank you, but he didn’t.
“I’m not sure how long we’ll stay,” Zoe said. “There are a few other parties I want to hit up before the fireworks.”
Kathryn brightened. “You’re coming back for the fireworks?”
“No, not yours—the ones in Stone Harbor.”
“Oh. Are you sure? Because Ken told me they would be fabulous this year. Not that Stone Harbor’s won’t be nice, but to be able to see them from your own house . . .”
“We’re meeting people.”
“You’re welcome to bring them back here.”
“Mom—get over it. We’re not staying.”
Kathryn sighed. “Well, obviously you’ll stay long enough to eat a little something.” She scanned Trevor’s body a second time, barely masking her disapproval. “And maybe take a dip in the pool?”
“Probably not,” Zoe said. “We’ll grab a quick bite, but then we need to head out.”
“There’s no need to make it quick—you can stay as long as you like. And Trevor, if you need a place to change, our pool house has a shower and plenty of space.”
“Nah, thanks, I’m good.”
Kathryn blinked rapidly. She clearly didn’t think he was good at all. “Are you sure? Because if you’re worried about privacy, I promise, no one can see in. We made sure of that when we built it. Though I guess maybe you aren’t too worried about people seeing. . . well, you know. Not that you should be. I’m just saying. Whether you’re worried about privacy or not, the shower is there, and you are more than welcome—”
“Mom, let it go. He doesn’t want to shower.”
“Or change into something else?” she asked.
“Not that either.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you have a problem with how he’s dressed?” Zoe raised an eyebrow, willing her mom to engage. But Kathryn, having probably traveled down similar roads many times in her many years as a mother, backed down.
“Not at all. I hope you two have fun, wherever you end up going.” She took a deep breath and turned her attention to Lizzie. “Now, Lizzie—how much longer on those burgers?”
CHAPTER 18
By the time the Silvesters were ready to set off the fireworks, Zoe and Trevor had long since gone and April was still nowhere in sight. The crowd gathered around the pool, eagerly anticipating a pyrotechnic display that Kathryn assured them would be absolutely fabulous.
Lizzie wanted to join them, but she had to set up the ice-cream sundae bar on the kitchen island, so the best she could hope for was a glimpse through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She’d always loved Fourth of July fireworks. When she was a kid her parents would take her to the township’s annual display at Abington High School, and as a teenager she’d take the train downtown to watch the city’s show on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Her favorites were always the ones that looked like fluffy white dandelions, the sparkles falling to the ground like downy seeds. For most of her youth, the entire holiday weekend was characterized by the distant rapid-fire pop-pop-pop of fireworks, many of them set off by people who had no business doing so.
“Hear that?” her mom would say. “That’s what a trip to the emergency room sounds like.”
She always said this as if Lizzie somehow needed dissuading from setting off her own fireworks display, when all Lizzie wanted to do was watch. But her mom always needed to underscore the risk of any potential hazard, whether it was an explosive or a hot beverage. Danger lurked everywhere, even in places you hadn’t thought. Lizzie wondered if her mom had been this way forever or only since Ryan died. It didn’t matter, really, since either way, she’d acted this way for as long as Lizzie could remember. She just wished her mom would occasionally enjoy an experience like the Fourth of July fireworks without needing to comment that someone somewhere had probably lost a limb.
As the crowd around the pool thickened, Lizzie finished scooping the ice cream into three large glass bowls. She stacked the balls in a big heap, vanilla in one bowl, blueberry in another, and strawberry in the third. Lizzie had suggested swapping chocolate for the blueberry, but Kathryn insisted the red, white, and blue theme carry through to the dessert. There were huge bowls of fresh strawberries and blueberries and big vats of whipped cream and Marshmallow Fluff. Lizzie had also made hot fudge, caramel, and wet walnut sauces to go on top.
“Better hurry up or you’ll miss the show,” said a voice over her shoulder.
She turned around and saw Kathryn’s stepson, Nate, standing in the doorway. He wore the same cargo shorts and Nationals hat as earlier but had changed into an American University T-shirt.
“I don’t think the show is meant for me.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but I’m cooking.”
“You’re here. Which means it’s for you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Trust me. When Kathryn asks you about it later, she’s going to want you to tell her how amazing it was, so you’re better off watching it than not.” His eyes landed on the ice cream. “You need help taking that out?”
“They hired other people to do that.” She craned her neck, looking over his shoulder. “Though to be honest I’m not sure where they are at the moment.”
“Probably getting ready to see the fireworks. Which, like I said, is what you should be doing, too.” He lifted the bowl of vanilla ice cream and reached for the hot fudge. “Come on. I’d say we’ve got this in three trips. Four max.”
The two of them shuttled the ice cream and toppings into the kitchen and set up the sundae bar while Renata, who once again had appeared as if by magic, arranged all of the calligraphic signs.
“Renata, how’s it going?” He reached in and gave her a hug. “I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you since I got here.”
“I know,” she said, giving him a squeeze. “I’m good. We’ve missed you.”
“Maybe you’ve missed me. I’m not so sure about Kathryn.”
Renata smiled. “Silly boy. Everyone loves you.”
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same family . . . ?”
“Well, I love you, and I’ve missed you. So there.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “Renata is the best,” he said, looking at Lizzie. “But I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”
“Nate just likes me because I buy him doughnuts.”
“Aw, come on, that isn’t the only reason. Though now that you mention it . . . some Kohler’s tomorrow morning would be most excellent.”
“I can pick some up,” Lizzie offered. “Kohler’s is that bakery at Twenty-Seventh and Dune, right?”
“Whoa, hang on—are you telling me you’ve been in Avalon for six weeks and haven’t tried a Kohler’s cream doughnut yet?”
“Guilty as charged.”
Nate pressed his hands against his lips and took a deep breath, in a way that Lizzie found more than a bit overdramatic. “Renata, our mission is clear. Tomorro
w. Breakfast. Kohler’s. Yes?”
Renata patted his back. “Yes.”
“Good. Excellent. Thank you. Make sure you buy enough for everyone, including Lizzie.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Lizzie said.
“Yes, we do.” Nate gave her a probing look. “Unless you don’t eat doughnuts.”
“I definitely eat doughnuts.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Thank God. For a second there I thought maybe you were into one of those diets like Kathryn or Zoe. What is Kathryn’s thing this year? Paleo?”
Lizzie nodded.
“Right. And last year it was gluten-free, and a few years before that it was South Beach and Atkins, and at some point I remember her eating nothing but cabbage soup. My dream is that someday she’ll just eat food like a normal person. Not that I dream about Kathryn.” He cringed. “Oh, God. Now I’m totally going to dream about Kathryn, aren’t I?”
Lizzie tried not to laugh. “Probably.”
“Great. With my luck, it’ll be an eight-hour dream where she doesn’t shut up the entire time. Christ.”
“Better than eight hours in real life, right?”
He met her eyes and smiled in a way that Lizzie found reassuring, as if she was no longer alone in bearing the weight of Kathryn’s voluminous speech.
“I’ll get the rest of the serving pieces,” Renata said, and disappeared in the butler’s pantry.
Lizzie glanced at Nate’s T-shirt. “American University. Very patriotic. Did you buy that especially for the Fourth?”
“This? No, I’ve had this for years. I actually bought it just after I—”
“Nate, my man!”
Sam Offerman stumbled into the room, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. His skin looked even more orange than the last time Lizzie had seen him, and his hair was as puffy and stiff as ever.
“Sam. Hi. Long time no see.” Nate did not sound thrilled to see his father’s friend.
“I’ll say. You still bumming around our nation’s capital, or have you finally decided to get a real job?”
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