Beautiful Beginning(9)

record, I’m having you banned from our floor.”

“Bennett,” my father said, hugging me next. “Frederick and I were just

discussing the seating arrangements.”

“And what a disaster it will be if we split up Judith and Mary,”

Frederick added, directing his words toward Chloe.

Chloe hugged my dad and then moved on to hers. “This isn’t going to win

me any points with Susan,” she told my father, “but I have to agree with

my dad here. Keep them together; we don’t want them taking over more real

estate than necessary. There will be fewer casualties that way.”

With that settled, I pulled my dad to the side to give Chloe a moment alone

with Frederick.

My mother had rented out the entire beachside restaurant, and I had to

admit it was perfect. Tucked away in a quaint little neighborhood,

meticulously maintained boxwoods lined the walk and flowering vines and

greenery clung to every available surface. Now that the sun was starting to

set, the huge outdoor seating area twinkled with strings of tiny lights.

The tables were beginning to fill, and I realized I couldn’t identify half

the people who were smiling in our direction.

“Who the hell are all these people?” I asked.

“Perhaps a little louder, son. Your great-grandmother might not have heard

you,” he said. “And they’re family. Cousins, aunts . . . first nephews

twice removed.” He furrowed his brow as he took in the line beginning to

form at the open bar. “Actually, I’m not sure I even know. Those ones are

already drinking, so they must be from your mother’s side of the family.”

He tightened his grip on my shoulder. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Great. Everyone else here?”

“I think so,” Dad said. “Your uncles are out on the patio. I haven’t

seen your cousins yet.”

I winced inwardly. My brother, Henry, and I spent the majority of our

summers growing up with our two cousins, Brian and Chris. Brian was the

oldest of the four Ryan boy cousins and a quiet, serious child, much like I

had been. He and I had always been close. But Chris—or Bull as he insisted

on being called—made me want to chew off my own limb to escape. My mom

used to say that Chris only wanted to be like us, and preferred the

nickname so he would be one of the B’s: Brian, Bennett, Bull. I always

suspected this was bullshit. After all, Henry started with an H, and the

personalized beer cozy Bull brought to parties, along with his unbuttoned

shirt and gold chains nestled in a thicket of wild chest hair, suggested he

was totally fine being his own person. Chris just liked the idea of being

called Bull because he was an idiot.

“I’m sure Bull is excited to see you,” Dad said with a knowing smile.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” I said. “And I’m sure Lyle has remembered a

couple of colorful navy stories he’ll pass along to you over dinner. Maybe

the results of his last prostate exam?”

Dad nodded, eyes twinkling in restrained amusement as he waved to someone

across the room. Dad’s eldest brother, Lyle—Bull’s father, go figure—

seemed to have no filter for the inappropriate. Over the years I’d lost

count of the number of stories Lyle had told about his adventures in the

navy, disgusting bodily functions, how people in rural towns had

“relations” with animals, and the various moles his wife had to have

removed from her back. “Maybe I should suggest he offer one as a toast?”

Laughing I said, “I’ll give you one whole American dollar to suggest it,

Dad.”

My mother approached, kissing my cheek before licking her thumb and

reaching to smear off what I could only imagine was a bright pink lipstick

mark. I ducked out of her grasp and grabbed a napkin off a table instead.

“Why didn’t you wear the blue suit?” she asked, snatching the napkin

from me to wipe my face clean.

“Hi, Mom. You look beautiful.”

“Hi, darling. I liked the blue suit much better than this one.”

I looked down at the charcoal Prada suit I wore, smoothing a hand over the

front of the jacket. “I like this one.” And, I didn’t add, I packed at

two in the morning under a drunken sex haze.

“Blue would have been more appropriate for tonight.” She was practically

vibrating with nerves. “This one makes me think you’re heading to a

funeral.”

Dad handed her his cocktail and she downed it with a shaking hand before

walking away again.

“Well, that was fun,” I said and Dad laughed.

Chloe joined us—clearly a bit exasperated from dealing with her father—

and we made a circuit of the room, greeting everyone who had come early in

the week and reacquainting ourselves with old family and friends. A little

while later, my mom called to let us all know that dinner was starting and