The Cousins(13)

“Does Mildred know?” the man says, sounding agitated. “She wouldn’t like this, Allison. She wouldn’t like it at all.”

The back of my neck prickles. “I’m not Allison,” I say, pulling off my sunglasses. The old man startles and takes a step back, the heel of his shoe catching on a cobblestone. He nearly stumbles, but Aubrey darts forward lightning-quick and catches hold of his arm.

“You okay there?” she asks. He doesn’t reply, still looking at me as though he’s seen a ghost, and she adds, “It sounds like you know our grandmother? Mildred Story? This is Milly, Allison’s daughter, and I’m Aubrey. Adam Story is my father.” She gestures toward Jonah with her free hand. “And this is Jonah, he—”

“Adam,” the man says faintly. “Adam is here?”

“Oh no,” Aubrey says, smiling brightly. “Just me. I’m his daughter.”

The man looks forlorn and lost, one hand fumbling at the empty pocket of his cardigan like he just realized he left something important behind. “Adam had seeds of greatness, didn’t he? But he wasted them. Foolish boy. Could’ve changed it all with a word.”



Aubrey’s smile slips. “Could have changed what?”

“Granddad!” A harried voice floats our way, and I turn to see a girl around our age striding toward us. She’s short and muscular, with brown skin, freckles, and a cloud of dark hair. Both of her wrists are piled high with braided leather bracelets. “I told you to wait in front of Sweetfern! Parking was impossible because of all the damn tourists—” She pauses as she takes in the three of us surrounded by suitcases, with Aubrey still propping up her grandfather. “I mean new arrivals. Is he all right?” she asks, a note of anxiety creeping into her voice.

The man blinks slowly a few times, like he’s trying to bring her into focus. “Fine, Hazel. Just fine,” he murmurs. “A little tired, is all.”

Hazel takes hold of her grandfather’s arm, and Aubrey steps back. “I think we startled him,” she says apologetically, even though it was the other way around. “He seems to know our grandmother.”

“Really?” Hazel asks. “Who’s your grandmother?”

“Um, Mildred Story?” Aubrey says it like she’s not sure the name will register, but the girl’s eyes immediately widen. Her face, which had been tense and preoccupied, breaks into a wide smile.

“No way! You guys are Storys? What are you doing here?”

“Working at our grandmother’s resort for the summer,” Aubrey says.

Hazel’s gaze bounces between the three of us with avid interest. “Wow. Is this your first time on Gull Cove Island?” Aubrey and I nod, and she squeezes her grandfather’s arm. “Granddad, how could you not tell me the Story grandkids were spending the summer here? You must’ve known, right?”



“No,” the old man says, plucking at the pocket of his cardigan again.

“Maybe you forgot.” She turns to us and adds in a lower voice, “Granddad has early-stage dementia. Sometimes he’s fine, but other times he gets really confused. He’s friends with Mrs. Story, though, and he was her family doctor, so he knew your parents really well. I’m Hazel Baxter-Clement, by the way. My grandfather is Dr. Fred Baxter.”

I recognize the name instantly. “Of course! My mother used to say he must’ve been the only doctor alive who still made house calls.”

Hazel grins. “Well, for your family.”

“My dad said the same thing,” Aubrey says. “And also that your grandfather got him playing lacrosse again in high school after he’d injured his knee.”

We all look at Jonah to see whether he’ll weigh in with a memory, but he just stares at his phone, rude as ever. Then he thrusts the screen toward Aubrey and me. “Yelp says we should go to Hurley Street to find a cab.”

“Hurley is right around the corner,” Hazel says, pointing to our left. I grasp the handle of my carry-on as she adds, “Hey, so this might be kind of weird and random when we just met, but—I actually did a school project that included your family last semester. I’m a history major at BU, and my independent study is about early colonists whose descendants are thriving in the information age. My professor really liked the initial write-up and wants me to expand on it next fall. Is there any chance I could interview you guys?” She smiles ingratiatingly when none of us respond right away. “Total softball questions, I promise.”



“Um.” I put my sunglasses back on to avoid Hazel’s gaze. Even softball questions are loaded when you’re a Story. “We might be kind of busy for a while.”

“I understand. Could I give you my number in case you find the time? Or if you just want to know what’s fun to do on the island. I’d be happy to show you around.” She looks at Jonah, who still has his phone out, and quickly recites her number. I can’t tell whether he actually adds it, or just pretends to.

“Enjoy your first day,” Hazel says. “Come on, Granddad, let’s get some ice cream.”

Dr. Baxter has been quietly leaning on his granddaughter’s arm while we talk, but Hazel’s voice seems to shake him out of his reverie. He focuses on me again, a frown tugging down the corners of his mouth. “You shouldn’t have come, Allison.”