Cheap Trick: A Dawson Family Novel

by Goodwin, Emily

  Mrs. Dawson and Dean’s wife, Kara, are in the kitchen, getting lunch ready for us all. Mrs. Dawson looks up from the stove when I come in, pulling my swimsuit cover-up over my head.

  “That smells amazing,” I tell her, eyes going to the stove. Then I notice a dish on a tray next to the oven. “Are those pin-wheels?”

  “Thanks, and they are!” Mrs. Dawson turns down the burner and steps away from the stove. There’s a large island behind her, custom built to fit all seven of the Dawsons around it.

  “I volunteered to make them for the church luncheon this Sunday. I have no idea what’s in them.”

  Mrs. Dawson smiles. “I’ll give you my recipe as long as you promise not to share it with Karen McAllister.”

  I laugh. “Deal. And thank you.”

  “I didn’t know you were so involved in the church.”

  “I’m not really,” I say carefully. I don’t regularly attend church but went last week with Grandpa after he pestered me to join him over and over. And the only reason I volunteered to do anything with this stupid luncheon was in hopes that Natalie Briggs would like me more. Which sounds so stupid now that I’m thinking about it.

  I guess I do want to fit in here…more than I’m willing to admit to myself.

  “Well, it’ll be nice to see you there. Maybe you can convince a certain son of mine to come with you.” She raises her eyebrows, and I’m suddenly really interested in a hangnail I have on my pinky finger.

  “So, it’s a hot day out there. I was going to get something for the boys to drink.”

  “Good thinking.” Mrs. Dawson beams, and I go to the fridge, pulling out four bottles of beer and taking them back outside. Shirtless and sweaty, Logan and Owen look exactly the same. They carry themselves differently, and I don't think they even notice it. It’s the biggest thing that gives them away, even when they try to fool me. Plus, Owen has a small scar on his forehead that Logan doesn’t have. If you didn’t know to look for it, you wouldn’t see it at all.

  “Anyone thirsty?” I ask, holding up the bottles of beer. Owen turns to Logan, no doubt about to make a smartass comment, but Logan elbows him hard in the ribs before he gets a chance to get a word out.

  Logan takes his beer and motions for me to join him by the side of the pool. I grab my lemonade and stick my feet in. Logan takes a few gulps of his beer, hands it to me, and dives into the pool. I close my eyes and look away, trying to quell the longing in my heart.

  “That’s much better.” He swims to the side of the pool and reaches for his beer. I extend my arm and hand him his beer. He chugs the rest, sets the empty bottle on the side of the pool, and goes underwater again. I lean back, thankful for the hot summer day. No one will question why I’m fanning myself right now.

  Swallowing hard, I shut my eyes and think about the pinwheels I need to make for church this coming Sunday.

  “Uncle Logan!” a little voice shouts. I open my eyes and sit up, watching Jackson run at full speed toward the pool. Scarlet is right behind him, reaching for his hand. He’s faster, and Jackson jumps into the pool. Logan swims forward and grabs him.

  “I can swim now,” Jackson retorts, pushing Logan away. Logan laughs and lets his nephew go but stays close by just in case. I finish my lemonade and lie back, getting splashed by Jackson and Logan only a minute later. I jerk up, narrowing my eyes and pursing my lips.

  “It’s on,” I warn them and dive in.

  * * *

  I type a reply only to delete it. Biting my lip, I shift my eyes from my computer to Orange Cat, a cleverly named orange tabby, I know. He’s one of the three barn cats Grandpa has let inside. We also have Black Cat, who is—you guessed it—black. And Tabby, a grey tabby cat. Creativity is obviously not Grandpa’s strong point.

  Nearly half an hour has passed and I still haven’t replied to my sister’s email. I don’t know what to say. My heart skips a beat in my chest butterflies swarm in my stomach. Closing my eyes, I flop back on my bed, mulling everything over.

  I left home—after only being back for a few months—because of the way things went down. My sister’s fiancé made a move on me. And I got blamed for it. I’d had too much to drink that night. My dress was too tight. Too short. I showed too much cleavage.

  It was all my fault. I couldn’t stay there and watch things unfold. Only a few days after I confronted Peter about the shit he pulled, he proposed to my sister. And my lack of support further proved my “jealousy.”

  I’ve hardly spoken to my mother, father, or sister since I’ve come to stay with Grandpa in Eastwood, and I can only imagine what they’d say about the life I’ve made for myself here. They’d probably be horrified to find out I haven’t stepped foot inside a country club or a five-star restaurant—and have no intention to do so. I prefer the slow, hot summer days in rural Indiana, where I get to sit on the front porch with a—gasp—bottle of three-dollar wine in my hand as I watch tractors and horse trailers pulled by big pickup trucks going up and down the road all day.

  I’ve gained a few pounds since I’ve moved here. Cut my own hair a time or two. And I really like going to the farmer’s market every Tuesday morning. This is far from the life I imagined I’d have, but that life was laid out before me with little choice of my own.

  Get into a prestigious college? Check. I was a legacy and my father played golf with the Dean of Admissions. I graduated with a business degree and decent grades. Phase one of my life was complete. Now I needed to land an aristocrat asshole of a boyfriend to eventually settle down with and spend our summers in the Hamptons. Roger was tolerable at first, but that ended quickly. I went to Canada before I told my parents we ended things.

  I close my eyes and let out a breath. My whole life has been mapped out with the road paved in front of me. I don’t know what it’s like to stray from the path and figure out who I am. It’s a strange and harrowing feeling to have this emptiness inside me, longing to meet the person I’m meant to be.

  It’s almost as if I miss myself, which doesn’t make sense at all, I know.

  But what I do know is for each time I’ve fallen, I’ve gotten back up, just like Grandpa told me to do. Only, once I’m on my feet I’m left teetering, ready to fall with the next gust of wind. He told me I need to find something to hold onto, something to ground myself, and then put down roots.

  I don’t know how to do that.

  “Fuck you,” I say to my computer.

  “Are you chatting with an online boyfriend?” Grandpa says, walking past my open bedroom door.

  “Hah.” I push myself up and raise one eyebrow. “If only.” I look back at the computer and shake my head. “It’s just another job rejection.” The lie leaves my lips before I have a chance to really think about it. All I know is I don’t want to bring up Diana’s wedding yet. Grandpa has been at odds with my mother since the day she ran off and married my father, who put Roger’s asshole-ness to shame.

  Though I’m sure I really do have a rejection email in my inbox somewhere. I’m either overqualified by having a degree and a little bit of grad school under my belt, or I’m lacking experience since I only have a degree and a bit of grad school under my belt. It’s an infuriating process that makes me want to give up looking for a job entirely.

  “You already have a job.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t want to bartend the rest of my life.”

  Grandpa leans against the doorframe. “Why not?”

  I open my mouth but can’t come up with a legitimate reason right now. “I, uh, I’d like better hours. I work late a lot.”

  “But you’re a night owl, just like me.”

  “True. I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I open my computer again. “I guess I just thought I’d be doing something more fulfilling in my life by now. I’m almost thirty and, not that I don’t love living here, it’s just that, well, I’m living here.”

  Grandpa gives me a wink. “Feel free to move your shit to the barn then.”

  I laugh and look back at
the computer, heart lurching when I see Diana’s email glowing on the screen before me.

  “What’s really bothering you, Ellie?”

  Dammit. Why is he so perceptive? “Diana,” I start and let out a breath. “She’s getting married this summer and wants to know if we’re coming to the wedding since I never responded to her invitation.” I shake my head. “I can’t believe she’s marrying that guy…after everything he did, how can she want to marry him?”

  Grandpa lets out a deep sigh. “Some people…some people are as blind as they want to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, they know the truth is right there in front of them, they just choose not to see it.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice?” I run a hand through my long hair. “I’d give anything to have tunnel vision every now and then.”

  “You take after me. We’re not built for tunnel vision. We see everything, and sometimes seeing everything makes you feel it all too. You may not see how much of a blessing that is now, but someday you will.”

  The knot in my chest loosens. “Maybe that’s why…never mind. It’s silly.”

  “You thought it and almost spoke it. Can’t be that silly.” Grandpa raises his silver eyebrows. I purse my lips and hold his gaze, looking away only a few seconds later.

  “Fine. Maybe seeing everything, feeling everything, is what’s distracting me from figuring out who I’m supposed to be. It’s like no matter how hard I try to find my place in the world, I just can’t. I get one foot up on the ladder only to slip and fall.”

  “Stop trying,” Grandpa says like it’s simple. “You are exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

  I force a smile and nod, then motion to the computer. “I don’t know how to respond. She wants me to be a bridesmaid.”

  “Do you want to go?”

  It’s a simple question, yet it has a weight to it. Saying I don’t want to go to my only sister’s wedding makes me feel like a terrible person. Diana might value her socialite status more than anything else, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love my sister and wish her well.

  Because I do.

  Which is why this is so fucking hard.

  Peter is bottom-of-the-barrel scum, hailing from a pedigree-rich family. He’s the second son in the Abbington line, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get his fair share of the family cut. He’s a shoo-in to fill someone’s position in his father’s company and can get Diana into any country club on the east coast just by dropping his last name.

  “I want to go to her wedding,” I finally admit. “Because I’ll regret it if I don’t. Besides, if I don’t, how will I compare her first wedding to her second? Or third?”

  Grandpa laughs. “That’s the spirit, kid.” He pushes off the wall and heads down to the first level of the house. Each stair creaks under his feet, and the screen door going out to the front porch groans and then snaps shut. Grandpa refuses to fly, so he won’t be going to Diana’s expensive Maui wedding.

  I look at the email from my sister again and take a deep breath as I type.

  Hey, Diana,

  The wedding is coming up soon and Hawaii is the perfect place to tie the knot! It’s so exciting :-) I’d be honored to be in your wedding party, and I’m thrilled you even asked!

  “Grow some balls,” I mutter to myself and delete everything. I squeeze my eyes shut and start again.

  Hey, Diana,

  I hope all is going well between you and Peter, and I’d love to be part of your big day. You’re my sister, and I will always love you and support you no matter what.

  Take care,

  Danielle

  My words still sound contrived, but I hit send anyway and then quickly close my laptop before I have a chance to regret replying to the email. I really do wish her well. In a perfect world, Peter snapped out of his man-whoring, asshole ways.

  But we don’t live in a perfect world. We live in the real world, and the real world—more often than not—dishes out its fair share of hard times.

  Chapter 4

  Danielle

  My phone sounds with an email notification. Normally, hearing that little ding never bothers me. But right now, I happen to be waiting on two important emails. I get poor service in the farmhouse, and it’s not until I went outside on my way to the barn that my email updated.

  I dig my phone out of my back pocket and stop outside the corral fence. All three horses are up here near the barn this evening, waiting to be fed their grain. Sundance plods over, sticking his head over the fence. I reach up, not looking as I run my hand over his soft muzzle.

  There’s a glare from the sinking sun, and I turn, using the horse for shade so I can read my sister’s response.

  That’s great! I need your measurements so I can have the dress altered for you, and I need the final count to give to the caterers. You’re single, right? Only serious plus-ones are invited since this venue is rather exclusive. You’ll share a room with another single lady. Looking forward to seeing you.

  -D

  “I’m sure you are,” I grumble, shaking my head. “You’re lucky you’re a horse,” I tell Sundance and pat the side of his face. He cranes his neck, trying to sniff my pockets. “There’s nothing in there today, buddy.” I laugh as he pushes me, wanting to check the back pockets as well. “I’ll go inside and get you a handful of Lucky Charms.”

  I reread Diana’s email again, probably taking things way more personally than I should. I’m quite good at doing that. But it also makes me realize that one of her other bridesmaids must have dropped out at the last minute and that’s the real reason she asked me to be a part of her wedding. Why else would she already have a dress?

  My phone vibrates with a text right as I grab the cereal box from the cabinet. For a split second, I think it’s Diana, but it’s Rebecca, saying she’s looking forward to hanging out tonight. Right. That’s tonight. I didn’t forget. I just, uh, fine. I forgot.

  Speaking of getting my life together…

  I go back upstairs, change into a checkered dress and throw my long hair up into a messy ponytail. I give each horse a handful of the sugary cereal and get in my car, driving into town to Rebecca’s house.

  “Hey!” she exclaims as she throws back the door, holding up a bottle of wine. Her Yorkie yips at her feet. “Aaron is working late tonight and the kids are at my in-laws. I hope you’re ready to party!” She steps aside, letting me in the house. “And by party I mean be gone by ten PM.”

  We both laugh and go into the kitchen for snacks and wine, and then take our food out onto the back porch. Rebecca fills me in on how her kids are doing and any drama I missed on the Wilson side of the family. We’re related through marriage, not blood, but that didn’t stop her from welcoming me into the family.

  “So tell me about your life.” She takes another sip of wine. “What’s new?”

  “Nothing really.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “You’re young and pretty. I need to live vicariously through you. Tell me you stayed out past midnight last night and watched a movie with at least a PG-13 rating.”

  “I did stay out late last night. Grandpa had a friend over.” I make a face and shudder, causing Rebecca to laugh. “So I went to Getaway and hung out there. At the place I work on my day off. My life really isn’t that exciting.”

  “Interesting you chose to go to Getaway.”

  “It’s the only place open after ten PM around here, and I didn’t want to go home and risk walking in on something I’d never be able to unsee.”

  “You could have come here. Or gone to Quinn’s.”

  “She was at the bar too.”

  Rebecca fills our glasses up again. “Mm-hm. It had nothing to do with the company you keep at Getaway. Not at all.”

  “Yeah, I like Logan and Owen. They’re great guys and fun to hang out with.”

  “They are two good-looking men. I don’t blame you for wanting to get a little extra time with them.”

  “Diana emailed me a
bout her wedding today.” I change the subject. “I’m only allowed to bring a serious plus one.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I have no idea. A long-term boyfriend? A husband? All I know is I really don’t want to go to that wedding alone. She’s going to pair me up with another single guest in the hotel room. That’s not awkward at all.”

  Rebecca tosses back her glass of wine and runs her eyes over me. She’s scheming something, I can tell by the slight smile on her face.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, no.”

  “You haven’t even heard what I’m thinking.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Fine. What are you thinking?”

  “Don’t go to the wedding alone. Bring someone.”

  “But I don’t have a boyfriend, let alone a serious one.”

  She reaches for the wine again only to realize the bottle is empty. “You haven’t seen your family in like a year. They don’t know what’s going on in your life.”

  My lips start to curve into a smile. “That is a good point. I could be engaged for all they know.”

  “Tell them that and enjoy the weekend in Hawaii. Lord knows you deserve a break.”

  “Okay…so I tell Diana that I’m engaged and am bringing my fiancé. Where exactly do you find a fiancé for hire? A Craigslist ad? I’ll make sure to put that murderers need not apply.”

  Rebecca laughs. “I think you can hire a male escort. Or at least that’s what they’d do in the romantic comedy movies.”

  “Sounds expensive.” I shake my head. “I’ll just have to woman-up and tell Diana I’m still very much single and can—” I cut off when my phone rings. I pull it out of my purse and look up at Rebecca. “Speak of the Devil. It’s my mother.”

  I take a big gulp of wine before I answer. Mom texts me a few times a month to check in on me but has only called a handful of times since I moved here.

  “Mom, hi,” I say into the phone, sounding way too enthusiastic. “How are you?”