Lovely Girls(15)

“What brought you here? Business?”

Joe nodded. “I’m a chef and had an opportunity to open up a restaurant with an investor. It’s called the Surfside Grill. Do you know it?”

“No, but I’ve only been in town a few weeks.”

“You’ll have to come by sometime. I’ll make you dinner.”

“I’d like that,” I said before I could think through what I was saying. Had he just asked me on a date? Or was he ginning up business for his restaurant?

“How are you settling in?”

“Good. Almost completely unpacked.”

“That’s impossible,” Joe said. “I moved into a condo a few years ago, after my divorce, and there are still boxes I haven’t gotten around to unpacking.”

“I suppose that’s the upside to having an obsessive-compulsive personality.”

“What’s the downside?”

“Keeping my spices in alphabetic order is a total nightmare.”

Joe glanced over to make sure that the others were still chatting. He leaned closer to me and lowered his voice. “You do know this is a setup, right?”

I felt myself blush again. It seemed to happen with alarming frequency around Joe. “I did wonder.”

“Wonder no more. And don’t look now, but they’re totally checking us out to see how it’s going.”

I turned reflexively, but none of the others were paying any attention to us.

“Ha! Made you look.”

“Very mature. Did you know they were planning this?”

“No, but I’m not surprised. Genevieve hates my ex-wife, Kim. Hates her with the heat of a thousand suns. She’d love nothing more than to be the one who sets me up.”

I thought of Lita and her feud with Genevieve and wondered how many similar conflicts Genevieve had around Shoreham. Was that odd or simply a by-product of Genevieve’s strong personality? She certainly didn’t shy from conflict, the way I always had.

“Would your ex-wife mind?”

Joe shrugged. “I doubt it. She’s since remarried. But Gen would still count it as a victory.”

“I think dinner is just about ready,” Emma announced as she pulled a tray of barbecued pork out of the oven. My stomach rumbled, which surprised me. I hadn’t had an appetite in months. Emma set it on the butcher block island next to large bowls of baked beans and coleslaw and a pan of cornbread. “Will someone let the kids know it’s time to eat?”

“I’ll go,” I volunteered. I needed to take a moment after Joe’s revelation to compose myself, and I wanted to check on Alex anyway. I wondered how she was getting along with the other girls.

I walked through Emma’s house, which was smaller and less ostentatious than Genevieve’s, but I preferred it. It felt more like a home, with its comfortable sofas, brightly painted walls, and family photos displayed on every table and shelf. There was a pair of sliding glass doors in the living room that led out onto a small patio and a pool with a waterfall feature, which trickled pleasantly in the background.

Daphne, Shae, and Callie were all floating on loungers in the pool, each wearing a slip of a bikini and large sunglasses, their lips painted the same glossy shade of cherry red. I was struck again by their unusual self-composure, each girl lounging like a contented cat. They were lazily tossing around a large beach ball, a childish activity that was a stark contrast to their studied young-sophisticate posing.

Jon was lying on a poolside lounge chair, his eyes again fixed on the tablet resting on his bent knees. I didn’t see Alex anywhere.

None of the girls acknowledged me as I approached them and stood at the edge of the pool.

“Hey there,” I said, addressing the trio in the pool. “Dinner’s ready.”

They ignored me, still intent on their game of tossing the ball.

“Oh, my God, you’re like, totally splashing me,” Daphne said to Shae.

“I totally didn’t, that was Callie,” Shae protested.

“Fuck you both,” Callie replied, splashing a wave of water toward both her friends, who squealed and held up their hands to block the onslaught.

I blinked, startled by both their rudeness and their language.

“Girls,” I said, my tone sharper.

This time I got their attention. The three teens went silent. They stared up at me from behind their sunglasses, expressions oddly blank.

“Dinner’s ready,” I repeated. “Your moms asked me to send you in. Where did Alex go?”

“She’s over there,” Daphne said, pointing.

I turned and saw Alex sitting in a bright-yellow Adirondack chair just past the pool, the two dogs lazing at her feet. She had worn her standard uniform of a T-shirt and jogging shorts. It was hard to believe she was the same age as the other three girls, who seemed like they were seventeen going on thirty-seven. Alex’s feet were tucked up underneath her, and she was on her phone. I glanced at the girls again, who were still staring coolly up at me.

“Why don’t you go get something to eat.” I turned and walked toward Alex. Behind me, the girls went back to splashing one another, completely disregarding my instructions.

Mean girls. The words floated unbidden into my thoughts, and I tried to quickly dismiss them. I didn’t know these girls. Maybe they were shy, or awkward around adults they didn’t know. Moreover, I liked their mothers.