Where the Stars Still Shine(64)

“You knew my mom?”

“Not personally, but Veronica Quinn was the coolest girl in school, so everyone knew who she was,” she says. “If Veronica got her hair cut, the next week you’d see half a dozen girls with the same style. And no one in Tarpon Springs had ever heard of Doc Martens until your mom started wearing them, usually with ripped tights and baby-doll dresses. And her name … well, I was going through a phase when I hated my name, and Veronica seemed so normal and cool. My friends and I would pretend to be scandalized by her, but then spend hours at the drugstore arguing over which shade of red lipstick was the one she wore.”

“Revlon Certainly Red,” I say. “She likes it because it’s one of the only colors that’s never been discontinued.”

“Yes!” Phoebe pumps her fist, making me laugh. “Nailed it.” She sets aside the bread and takes a whole chicken from the refrigerator. “Anyway, I thought if I was more like her that maybe Greg would think of me as a girl, instead of part of his extended family. But Revlon Certainly Red looked ridiculous on me and I threw it away after applying it just that one time.”

“It looks ridiculous on me, too,” I offer. “If it makes you feel any better.”

Phoebe smiles, as she lifts the bird into a roasting pan. “Actually, it does. Thanks.”

“So, you liked Greg in high school?”

“Always,” she says. “Even when he was with your mom and afterward, when she broke his heart. I dated a couple of guys in college, but … okay, I have to admit it feels a little strange talking about this with you because you’re Veronica’s daughter.”

“It’s okay that he loves you more than her.” I pick up the next potato and scrape the peeler down the length. “He deserves that.”

“Thank you.” She slides the roasting pan into the oven. “Greg is, was, and always will be the love of my life. And our family might seem boring to you—”

“It doesn’t,” I say. “It’s not.”

“Anyway, I don’t keep things from him, so I just want you to know that I’m going to tell him about this … thing between you and Alex.”

“I figured.”

“Ever since our mom got sick, Alex has changed. And not in a good way,” Phoebe says. “He was on the college-prep track in high school, but then he dropped out. I mean, the thing with Mom sent all of us into kind of a tailspin, but she wanted him to go to college. If I were in his shoes, I’d do everything I could to honor her wishes, not throw away the life she wanted for me.”

I understand now how she could miss the truth. She’s not even looking for it.

“The point is, you just came home and the last thing you need is to get involved with someone whose own life is a mess,” she says. “My brother is not a good influence.”

I take a vicious swipe with the peeler. “Everyone seems to think they know exactly what I need, but no one has ever asked me what I think. Alex and I aren’t running off to elope or anything. We’re just hanging out.”

“I think your dad is afraid you’ll get your heart broken.”

“But isn’t that my risk to take?”

“You’re only seventeen—”

“My mom and Greg were sixteen,” I point out.

“Exactly.”

“It’s not the same.”

“After what I witnessed today,” Phoebe says, “I’m not so sure I’d agree.”

The front screen door slaps shut and Greg calls out a hello. Saving me once again from an answer I don’t have. He comes into the kitchen.

“So, everything’s—Hey, Cal.” Greg kisses me on the cheek as if this morning’s frostiness was from another lifetime, then kisses Phoebe. “I didn’t expect you home from the beach yet, but it looks like you brought half of it with you.”

I look down to find a dusting of sand—and a few bits of potato peel—around my bare feet, and that I forgot I was still wearing my bathing suit and shirt when I followed Phoebe home. “Oh, um, I’ll sweep it up when I’m done making a bigger mess.”

“It’s okay.” Greg steals a green bean from Tucker’s colander and crunches it raw. “Anyway, I was about to say … they installed the appliances in the kitchen today and the painting is just about finished, so we should be able to have Christmas in our new house.”

Phoebe’s face practically glows. “I can’t wait to fit everyone around the dining-room table.”

I’m momentarily forgotten—along with the potatoes—as they debate renting a do-it-yourself truck versus hiring professional movers, and discuss where to put the Christmas tree in the new house. When I’m done peeling, I leave the skinless spuds in an empty pan and head for the back door.

“We’ll finish up when you get back,” Phoebe says, and I wonder if she’s talking about mashed potatoes or Alex. Either way, I don’t really want to come back because I know that while I’m taking a shower, she’ll probably be telling Greg everything.





Chapter 20


The trouble with living in an Airstream is that I can’t stand in the shower until the water goes cold, because that means having to buy a whole new tank of propane. I have to find other ways to delay the inevitable. My bed gets made for the first time in days. I water the plants. Look up the translation for Kali tihi, theoula mou and, despite everything, grin stupidly to myself when I learn it means “Good luck, my little goddess.” Search local dive shops on the Internet. And for the first time since I arrived in Tarpon Springs, I take out my guitar.