An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(27)

“Why don’t we just plan on eating from the second we get up until we have to head for the nearest vomitorium?” Grace rolled her eyes. “There are three adults and one child here. How much food do we need?”

“Actually, I invited Liddy and Emma to join us this year.” Maggie glanced from one daughter to the other. “We’re saving Liddy from potluck Thanksgiving with a group of friends, and Emma’s going to be alone because Chris is touring with his band. Actually, on Friday, the three of us are going to—”

“Oh, cool. I haven’t seen Liddy or Emma since Gram died,” Natalie interrupted. “That was the last time I was in Wyndham Beach. So we’ll be five ladies and one girl.”

“Oh, we could get tickets for the special holiday display at Longwood Gardens. I’ll go online right now and reserve tickets for Friday for the five of us and Daisy.” Grace dug in her bag for her phone.

“No, that’s not going to work. Emma and Liddy and I are leaving on Friday afternoon for Charlotte.” Maggie looked up from her notepad. “I started to tell you.”

Natalie and Grace exchanged blank looks. “What’s in Charlotte?”

“Chris invited the three of us to his concert on Friday night, and we’re staying for the weekend. He’s arranged everything, right down to having a car pick us up here on Friday morning and drive us to the airport, where we’ll take a private jet to North Carolina. Accommodations at the number one inn in the city. Oh, and did I mention front-row seats at his show?”

“Mom!” Grace exclaimed. “What? When—how did this all come about?”

“We’ve been talking about doing it someday since the reunion. Emma called yesterday to tell me Chris had it all arranged if I was available.”

“If she’s available.” Natalie rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

“Duh,” Daisy repeated, nodding for emphasis.

“And we’re just hearing about this now because . . . ?” Grace was wide eyed.

“I’m so jealous I could weep.” Natalie looked as if she was in fact about to cry. “Little Chrissy Dean, rock star and international man of mystery.”

Grace scoffed. “No mystery. I read he nails everything that comes within ten feet of him.”

“One wonders. Emma visited him in California, and she said there were women following him home and climbing over his back fence and sneaking into his house, all manner of goings-on that Emma . . . well, let’s just say she wasn’t happy to see the kind of girls who were stalking her son.”

“What does she expect? He’s gorgeous, rich, the lead singer in an enormously popular band, and oh, yeah, he really can sing.” Grace ticked off his attributes on the fingers of her right hand. “Emma should know better than to expect him to be different from any other guy who’s gorgeous, rich, yada yada yada.”

“He’s her baby. Her only child,” Maggie reminded her, then changed the subject. “Anyway, we’re looking forward to having a grand time that weekend.”

“I’m really jealous, Mom. I wasn’t kidding,” Natalie said again.

“I’ll bring you a T-shirt.”

“Me too.” Grace raised her hand.

“Me too,” Daisy chimed in.

“I’ll see if I can find one small enough for you, pet,” Maggie said. “Oh, Grace, could you pick up the wine for Thanksgiving?”

“Sure. I’ll plan on extra since Liddy and Emma will be here.”

“Well, it sounds as if we have our holiday weekend pretty much planned. Good for us.” Maggie rose and collected the empty glasses and headed for the kitchen, which had been renovated the year before Art died. A gourmet cook, he’d picked out everything himself, from the tall white cabinets to the granite countertops, the tiles for the backsplash, the appliances, and the flooring. The new kitchen had pleased him every time he came into the room, and he would run his hand over the smooth counters or stop to wipe away a smear from the front of the stainless steel refrigerator every time he passed by.

“I wonder what Chris is like now,” Natalie mused as they all followed Maggie.

“He was such a pain in the butt when we were little,” Grace said.

“Who was a pain in the butt?” Maggie rinsed out the wineglasses.

“Chris.” Grace leaned on the counter.

“Why would you say that? He was always nice to you. And he was only a year older than you, Grace. Don’t you remember, he used to take you both for rides in his wagon?” Maggie began to stack the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. “Nat? Do you remember?”

Natalie frowned as if searching her memory. “Not really.”

“I remember.” Grace pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, sat, and pulled her niece onto her lap. “Sort of.”

“We have pictures somewhere. You were all so cute when you were little.”

“Too bad we grew up to be such beasts, right, Nat? Except for Chris, who grew up to be the golden boy.”

Natalie nodded. “Chris was always the golden boy. There always was something special about him. Like you knew he was going to be someone when he grew up.”

“He worked pretty hard to get where he is, remember. Emma says they played a lot of tiny clubs for years before they could even get a record deal. It didn’t all fall into his lap, you know,” Maggie reminded them.