Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(9)

You guys ready? This is going to be epic.

That was Mako’s favorite word. Everything was epic.

What time are you heading out?

She typed: Bruce’s mom gets here at 7. The car is packed. We’ll head out then.

A rush of anxiety. Three nights away from Gigi. She quashed it. It was okay. She needed this break. Bruce did. Gigi and Lou had a relationship that should be given space and room, too. It was good for everyone.

So why did she feel sick?

Awesome. Cricket and beau of the moment—what’s his name—will get there around the same time. We’ll all be there in time for the dinner the private chef is preparing.

Bruce blew out a breath, reading over her shoulder. “A private chef? I thought this was going to be more chill—like grilling out,” he said. “Burgers, ribs.”

Hannah felt the familiar urge to mediate, tried to call her brother but only got voicemail. Mako almost never picked up. He liked to distill communication to its most efficient form—or so he said. Hannah suspected that he just didn’t want to be bothered with the messiness and unpredictability of actual human interaction when he could help it.

Another ping from her phone: Tell Bruce the chef is grilling. I know what a carnivore the big guy is. But you know Liza.

He didn’t even acknowledge that Hannah had just tried to call.

Hannah wasn’t sure what Mako meant in this context but was he implying that Liza had put up obstacles to a casual cookout? True, she was not a beer from the bottle, paper plates kind of girl. But also, she was mostly vegan, munching on salads or black bean burgers when meat was served. If she were calling the shots, they would not be grilling meat. Hannah suspected this was a Mako thing. Mako wanted the private chef. It was showy in a way that appealed to him and made Bruce uncomfortable. The two men could not be more different, really.

Hannah and Bruce exchanged a glance. Family. What were you going to do?

All good, she typed. Thanks again for this.

This whole “private wellness retreat” at the huge, beautifully appointed, and totally remote cabin was all Mako’s design, and his treat. It was like him to be expansive this way, showy and generous.

Least I can do after all you guys do for me.

Love you, she wrote. See you tomorrow.

Love you both. Can’t wait to just chill and connect.

She almost wrote him back right then. Can we find some time to talk? Alone?

But if she did that, he’d hound her until she told him what was on her mind. He was not a patient guy. And she wasn’t even sure she wanted to talk. She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked, as always reading her expression, her mind.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just tired.”

It probably was nothing.

“We should be paying our own way. It’s not like we can’t afford it,” said Bruce.

“He wants to do this for you, for us. Let him,” said Hannah.

Bruce made an assenting grunt. She snuggled into him. The fake fire danced; Gigi breathed.

“And you’re going to tell him, right?” said Bruce. She looked at up at him, feeling a little jolt of surprise. Did he know?

“Tell him what?”

He frowned. “About the house?”

They were currently renting and living in Mako’s old house. They hadn’t been ready to buy their own place when Mako upsized. Bruce and Hannah had moved into the spacious waterfront home, Mako’s old bachelor pad—complete with hot tub and outdoor kitchen—just after they got married. But they were ready to buy their own place now, Gigi’s home, the place where she would grow up. It was in the same neighborhood, but at the end of the finger island with expansive open water views. Their bid had been accepted and they were under contract. She was uneasy about telling her brother. But why should she be? He’d sell this house and make a fortune.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll tell him this weekend.”

Bruce looked at her, seemed about to say something, then didn’t.

His quietude was one of the things she first loved about him. The way he waited before he spoke, the way he listened when she talked. But he had a way of keeping things in for too long; he ruminated. He’d had a hard childhood—father left him and Lou when Bruce was just a kid. Lou, she knew, had worked two jobs to keep them afloat. And Bruce grew up feeling like he had to be strong, take care of his mom. Hannah thought he never really had a chance to be a kid; Hannah tried to make up for it—big parties for his birthday, an Xbox on the television in the den. He was stoic. Pushing him didn’t work; she had to wait for him to open up.

Which he would eventually.

She hoped.

Unless.

“It’s going to be great,” she said, looking up at his presidential profile—square jaw, ridged nose. He looked so tired. Even in the orange glow, she could see his fatigue.

He needed this getaway. She needed this. They needed it.

But there was something.

She chalked up the rising tingle of unease to leaving Gigi for the first time. It was normal, wasn’t it? Of course it was. Perfectly normal.

They finished their wine in silence.





2


Trina

I watch. I am the watcher. From my place in the shadows, I see it all.

Tonight, the humidity is brutal, raising sweat on brow, on the back of my neck. The lights across the street go out one by one, until the house is sleeping.