From across the deck someone waved to him, and before Emma could thank him Sully was gone. They stood at the edge of the crowd sipping their beers. When Emma’s was done, Alicia looked at her wide-eyed. “God, Em. Take it easy.”
Emma shrugged. She turned to Mike at the bar, who was busy talking to some sophomore girls. It took forever, but finally she got his attention. She held up her empty can. “Got another? Please?”
He looked at her, and for a second Emma feared he’d say no. Sully wasn’t with her this time. But he passed her another, and a thrill went down her spine.
“Now what?” Alicia asked.
“Now we have fun. Any word from Chet?” She watched as Alicia checked her phone.
“Not since the last time I looked, which was two minutes ago.” Alicia looked bored. “Now what?” she asked.
Emma glanced around the deck. People were clustered in tight groups, laughing and talking. The second beer was definitely making her feel bolder. “Let’s go inside,” she suggested.
Stationed at the kitchen island was Amanda and a group of friends. They’d set up a blender, and there were pitchers of frothy green liquid and red Solo cups all around. Emma took a deep breath and approached.
Someone took the lid off the blender too soon, and the frozen green mix spiraled up and onto the counter. Amanda shrieked and ducked, and that’s when she looked up and saw Emma.
“Oh, hi.” To Emma’s relief, she didn’t ask where Chet was. “Want some?” When she saw the blank stare, she laughed. “They’re margaritas.” Emma held up her half-full beer in reply, but to her shock Alicia piped up behind her.
“I’ll have one!”
And that’s when things started to go bad. Half an hour later, they were seated on the couch between two junior guys who were playing poker. Alicia was on her third margarita and laughing too loudly at anything the guys said. She tried to join in the game, and at first they let her, but when she kept dropping cards, they started to look annoyed.
“Take it easy,” Emma whispered in her ear. When Alicia turned, her cheeks were flushed pink and her hair had fallen down out of its ponytail and around her shoulders. She looked unusually pretty. “I don’t want you puking,” Emma said, tucking her hair behind her ear for her.
Alicia howled at this. “Me neither!”
Emma kept an eye out for Sully. A few times she spied him talking to others, and once she spotted him through the window, on the deck. Whenever he looked her way, she made sure to act like she was having a great time, paying special attention to the guys playing cards. It was lame, she knew. But the beer was making her feel floaty and silly. Someone had turned the music up even louder. Amanda and some of her friends were dancing on the deck. And that’s when Emma saw Chet.
He was with his friend Taylor, outside, on the deck. Taylor came in first. She elbowed Alicia.
Alicia’s head jerked toward the door. “Tay-loooooor!” she shouted, and then she tried to stand up.
Emma put her hand out. “Easy, there.”
When Chet heard Alicia’s voice, he looked their way. The look on his face was not a good sign, but Emma couldn’t help it; she started to laugh. In fact, she couldn’t stop. Beside her Alicia was already doubled over.
Chet did not find any of this as funny as they did. He pulled both of them up off the couch and out to the deck, where Alicia tried to join in the dancing. “What the hell is going on?” Chet barked as he watched his sister stumbling around.
“She really liked the margaritas,” Emma stammered. “I tried to tell her to take it easy.” She felt bad. Chet had shown up as they’d asked, but she’d let him down.
Chet put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “How many did you have?”
Alicia held up three fingers. “Four!”
“Jesus.” Chet looked around uneasily. “I should take her home.”
“No!” both girls said in unison.
“Well, she can’t stay here like this,” Chet said.
Emma couldn’t let them go. The night was just starting to get good. “Tell you what, how about I get her some water and sit with her? You guys hang out a little while and have fun.”
Taylor had his eye on the activity inside, and he seemed to want to stay.
But Chet didn’t look so sure.
“I’ll take care of her, I promise,” Emma added.
“Like you have been?”
It stung, but she didn’t blame Chet. If she didn’t think fast, he was going to take them both home. Across the deck, Emma locked eyes with Sully. She motioned him over.
“Chet, do you know Sully?” she asked. To her relief, Sully took over.
“Hey buddy, good to see you!” Sully held up his beer. “Can I get you one?”
Emma watched gratefully as Chet allowed Sully to get them drinks. But he kept his eye on Alicia.
“I’m afraid my sister is having a little too much fun,” Chet said. Again, he glared at Emma.
“Let me get her a chair,” Sully offered. He returned with a deck chair he’d talked a girl out of and a bottle of water. A magician, Emma thought.
“She didn’t have that many, man,” Sully said for good measure. “I just don’t think she’s used to it.”
“She’s not,” Chet grumbled.
Obligingly, Alicia sipped her water and seemed to settle down a bit. She glanced around at all the faces watching her. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “I just needed some air.”
Emma could feel the night being salvaged. “See? She’s feeling better. Why don’t you make the rounds, and then we can go.” She could feel Sully’s eyes on her, and she knew he was wondering at the way she was speaking to Chet.
To her relief, Chet finally agreed. By then, Taylor was already long gone. “Okay, but call me if she doesn’t feel well. I mean it.”
Emma kneeled dutifully beside Alicia and encouraged her to drink more water. She could feel Sully standing behind her. “Thanks for bailing me out. Chet’s not too happy with me right now.”
“So, you’re tight with Chet?”
Emma stood. “Yeah. He’s kind of like my big brother.”
“Cool.”
The liquid confidence the beer had given her seemed to dissipate in Sully’s company. Emma glanced at Alicia. “Though he’s probably never going to forgive me for this.”
“He’s just doing his job as big brother.” He nodded toward Alicia, who was now slumped in her seat, eyes closed. “She seems like a sweet kid.”
“She is.” But before she could think of anything more to say, something else caught Sully’s attention, and he walked away.
Emma sucked in her breath. God, she sucked at small talk. Maybe she should go get Chet, after all. Alicia was falling asleep. The night was over.
But to her surprise, Sully came back. This time, with two more chairs. She tried to hide her smile as he set them down. “Had to shake people out of these,” he joked.
“I doubt that.” When she sat, their knees touched, just like that first night in the boat.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Emma looked up at the sky, letting the moment play out. “You’re Sully McMahon. That’s all.”
He laughed, in that way that made his eyes crinkle. “So?”
“So people respond to that. Though I can’t figure out why. I mean you’re great and all. But not that great…” She caught herself, and tried to play it off as a joke.
But Sully wasn’t letting her off the hook. He elbowed her lightly. “You think I’m great?”
Emma felt her face flush. She tried to think of something sarcastic to say, anything to downplay what had just tumbled out of her mouth, but when their eyes met she gave up. Sully held her gaze. “Sometimes, you can be kind of great,” she said finally.
Then, before she could look away, Sully leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.
Emma closed her eyes. She had never been kissed. And she had no idea what to do. But she pressed her lips to his, aware of the fullness of his
mouth and the sweet taste of beer. For a moment she feared she would burst.
Suddenly there was a retching sound behind them. They broke apart and looked over their shoulders just as Alicia sprang from her chair. She made it to the railing, where she bent over and threw up all over Mr. Hastings’s brand-new hydrangeas.
Perry
He was in the middle of a meeting when the photo came through as a text message. It was bad enough he’d had to go into work on a Saturday morning, but because of the timing of the Super Bowl contract he’d had no choice but to call his entire team in for the morning. Perry had muted his phone, as he always did when working on something pressing, and he especially did not wish to be interrupted now. They were in the midst of a negotiation for the Super Bowl halftime show, and Spencer was trying to take over the meeting. This was Perry’s largest client of the year, a repeat gig his firm had landed five years earlier and one he had every intention of hanging on to. And Spencer could go to hell for trying to take the helm. Perry hadn’t worked his tail off with Bob Stanoppolis, balancing the general manager’s ego and corporate wallet, for Spencer to step on his toes in the final hour. As Spencer cited the opt-out clause, Perry glanced briefly at his phone. It was Amelia, again. He didn’t have time to look at the photo she’d sent. He swiped the screen to airplane mode and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Spencer, but I’ll take it from here.”
Forty-five minutes later the meeting was over. They’d reached an agreement, finally. Perry stood at the door, shook hands with the team, and listened to the usual winding-down banter at the close of a successful meeting. Someone was heading to the Hamptons to play golf for the weekend. Did he play golf? How was the family? He did not, and they were fine. Perry was impatient to get back to his desk; he knew nothing was a done deal until contracts were signed.
Bob Stanoppolis paused in the doorway and extended his hand. “Thank you, Perry. Another year in the basket. Let’s hope the lead singer doesn’t get shit-faced and fall off the stage.”
Perry tried to ignore Spencer’s exaggerated burst of laughter. He forced a smile. What Bob Stanoppolis didn’t know was that the lead singer was the least of his problems. So much could go wrong: Pyrotechnics. Crowd control. Stage setup. These days, protecting against potential shooters and bomb threats was standard protocol. Bob should pray that the worst upset might be the lead singer yanking his pants down and face-planting into the audience. “To another year,” Perry said, extending his hand.
To his chagrin, Spencer followed Perry out and down the hall. “Check, please!” he barked. He clapped Perry roughly on the shoulder. “Grab a celebratory drink?”
Perry did not drink on workdays. Spencer knew that, leaving his invitation as thin as his humility. “Can’t,” Perry said. “We need to go over those provisions.”
Spencer flicked his wrist to check his watch. “Oh, yeah. About those, what do you say we tackle them in the morning?” Perry knew Spencer had no intention of looking over the provisions now or in the morning. Which was fine with him. Perry didn’t need Spencer slowing him down. His phone buzzed again.
“Tomorrow morning, then,” Perry said, moving on to his corner office. He was glad to be rid of him.
He tossed his notes on the desk and rubbed his eyes. If he ordered in takeout, he could get through half of the provisions tonight. Maura came to the door. “How’d it go?”
“Very well. A few changes and I’ll have it on your desk for review tomorrow. I want to get it over to Hanley by midmorning.”
Maura nodded. “I have two messages from Amelia. She said it was important. She’s at home.” Concern flickered across her face. Amelia never called Maura unless Perry was so deep into a project that he’d neglected to check his phone.
Perry retrieved his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Three new messages. “I’ll call her back.”
“Can I order you something to eat before I go?” It was already an hour after her usual workday. Perry knew Maura had a forty-five-minute train ride home to Mount Kisco. He was famished, but he didn’t want to delay her further.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Thai or Chinese?” Maura wasn’t about to budge.
Perry smiled. “Surprise me.”
He opened his laptop as his phone buzzed again. Another message from Amelia. Perry sighed and opened the text. A grainy image filled the screen.
The first thing he saw was skin. A teenage girl in what appeared to be a bra and panties standing in someone’s kitchen. She thrust a bottle of beer toward the camera at a precarious angle. To her left, a boy in a baseball cap was reaching for it. To her right, another had his arm slung around her bare waist. The girl stared back at him, her lips parted as if she was trying to say something. Dark makeup rimmed her eyes. Perry squinted. Emma’s face stared back at him.
“No.”
His phone buzzed in his hand. Amelia. Wordlessly, he accepted the call.
“Perry. You have to come home. It’s bad.”
Phoebe
It was just after midnight when she tiptoed into the dark kitchen and was startled by a figure outside the window. Who would be out at this hour? But as she peered outside, she recognized the soft, moonlit shape of her mother in her nightgown. Jane stood outside on the patio, her back to the kitchen window. There was a small orange flicker against the night sky, and a smoky cloud rose up around her.
Phoebe tugged open the back door. “Mom?”
Jane spun around, hand to her chest. “Christ, Phoebe.”
“Me? What are you doing?” Phoebe flicked on the lights.
Jane tilted her head as if contemplating how to reply, then blew a spiral of smoke from her lips. “Damn it.” She tossed the cigarette on the flagstone, then ground it out with the pristine white toe of her Sperry Top-Sider. The look of her in the billowy nightgown and boat shoes only enhanced the ridiculousness of the whole scene.
“Since when do you smoke?” Then, “What if the boys saw you?”
Jane sighed. “The boys are asleep. Why aren’t you?”
“Because I can’t. At least I’m not skulking around out here with a pack of cigarettes like a teenager.” Was no one in the family who they seemed?
“I’m sorry,” Jane snapped. She bent, peeled the cigarette butt from the patio, and strode past Phoebe into the kitchen, where she dipped it in the sink then wrapped it neatly in a napkin like a little gift and tossed it in the trash. Clearly a well-rehearsed routine. “I’m just trying to unwind.”
Phoebe plopped down on a kitchen stool and regarded her mother. “I feel like I’m meeting everyone in this family for the first time. Does Dad know you’ve taken up smoking?”
Jane scowled. “I haven’t taken it up. And of course he doesn’t know.”
“Of course he doesn’t. A bunch of liars, all of us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her mother went to the sink and rinsed her mouth out.
“Mom. Look at us.” She put her head in her hands. It was the middle of the night. Across town her empty dream house sat in total disrepair. Another town over, Jake was hobbling around the confines of a tiny cottage on crutches while his brand-new fiancée’s daughter was going through some kind of post-traumatic response to an accident he’d caused. And Perry—the rock of them all—could not bring himself to face his brother since.
Jane joined her daughter at the island. “We aren’t exactly at our finest this summer, are we?”
There was a shuffling noise from the living room, and both women turned to see Grandma Elsie totter into the kitchen. “Well, hello, dears. Phoebe, what are you doing at your mother’s house at this hour?”
Phoebe and Jane exchanged looks. Elsie’s memory had been growing more inconsistent. “Flickering like a light bulb” was how Jake had described it, and there was no telling when she would be lucid and conversational, or forgetful and confused. “Hi, Nana. I’m staying here for a couple weeks, remember?” Phoebe reminded her.
“That’s right. Your litt
le visit.”
Elsie went to the fridge and pulled the double doors open. Standing directly in front of them, she undid her bathrobe and tipped her head back. “Invigorating.”
Phoebe tried to cover her smile as her mother intervened. “Elsie, is your room too warm? I can turn up the air-conditioning.”
“My room? It’s cold as a crypt.”
“Well, would you like something to eat? I can make you a little snack.”
“A snack!” With some effort Elsie retied her bathrobe and joined Phoebe at the island. Elsie was alert and delighted, as if she’d just arrived at a party. “Look at us! Nocturnal beasts, we are. Like a bunch of alley cats circling the dumpster.” She giggled.
“Blueberry muffin okay?” Jane asked.
“Make it a double,” Phoebe said.
They watched as Jane sliced and buttered the muffins, and set them on plates. She pushed them gently across the island like a bartender, and Phoebe and her grandmother fell into them. The summer-ripened berries were both tart and sweet on Phoebe’s tongue, and mixed with the butter—heaven! Phoebe closed her eyes with pleasure. Even Jane, who shunned sweets, could not resist. She reached across the island and swiped a piece of Phoebe’s.
“Hey!”
Elsie looked up, and dabbed a crumb delicately from her bottom lip. “You’ve got to be quicker, dear.”
The women ate in silence, savoring the dim quietude. When Elsie was done, she stood. “I am going to lie down. And then, I hope, to dream.”
Phoebe stood, too. “Let me help you back to bed, Nana.”
Gently, she guided her grandmother across the house and into her room, where she helped her into bed and pulled the covers up. How strange it was to take care of someone who had taken care of you for so many years. Her grandmother sat up pertly, holding the edge of her blankets like a little doll.
“Would you like me to turn the light out, Nana?”
“You used to be afraid of the dark, do you remember?” Elsie asked.
Phoebe did not, at first.
“Whenever I came to babysit you kids so that your parents could go out for an evening, you never wanted to go to bed with the lights out. Oh, the fuss you put up.”
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