The Cousins(17)

Theresa smiled warmly. She was a widow too, but unlike Mildred, Theresa wasn’t afraid to show her age. She was gray-haired and a little plump, known for wearing simple dresses and comfortable shoes no matter the occasion. “Let me know what you think,” Theresa said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone as she put a hand on Allison’s arm. “Between you and me, your mother’s standards are a bit terrifying.”



“Tell me about it,” Allison said with a laugh, relieved at the excuse to poke around.

Allison felt her spine stiffening and her shoulders straightening as she walked across the lawn through the deferential path that opened when people recognized her. Usually she tried to blend into the background at her parents’ parties, but tonight would be different. Her mother needed her to be a hostess, not a shy teenager.

When Allison stepped inside the nearest tent, she took a moment to appreciate Theresa’s skills. Everything was beautiful: the crisp white tablecloths, the cushioned chairs with gauzy white bows tied across their backs, the shining silverware, the sparkling crystal, and, yes, the flowers. They stood in gleaming white vases at the center of each table, bursting with creamy roses, lime-green orchids, some sort of feathery succulent Allison couldn’t identify, and striking magenta calla lilies.

She couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

“Meet with your approval, Allie?” asked a voice behind her.

Allison turned to see Theresa’s son, Matt, wearing a Brewer Floral T-shirt, and all the carefully constructed poise she’d imagined for herself vanished. “Nobody calls me that,” she blurted out.

“Too bad,” Matt said. “It suits you. Maybe I can make it catch on.” Allison remained tongue-tied until Matt added, “Seriously, is everything okay? My mom is freaking out about this party. If I have to return fifty floral arrangements, she might have a heart attack.”

“They’re beautiful,” Allison said, and Matt wiped imaginary sweat from his brow.



“You just made her year.”

Allison bit her lip to swallow a smile. Matt was cute, charming, and—despite his relationship to Theresa—currently persona non grata among the Story siblings. He’d been friendly enough with all of them until last Christmas, when he’d hooked up with Anders’s on-again, off-again Gull Cove Island girlfriend, Kayla Dugas. Matt and Kayla’s relationship barely lasted two months, but it was enough to turn Matt into Anders’s sworn enemy for life. It had been a while, come to think of it, since Allison had heard Matt referred to as anything other than “fucking Matt Ryan.”

“Anders is going to be here soon,” she found herself saying, and Matt’s smile dropped.

“Thanks for the tip,” he said. “Better make myself scarce.” He looked around at the glittering surroundings and added, “After all, it’s not like I’m a guest or anything.”

“No, don’t…I didn’t…” God. She hadn’t meant to chase Matt off. She should have been mad at him on Anders’s behalf, but the thing was, Anders put as much effort into being Kayla’s boyfriend as he did everything else in life that wasn’t directly about being Anders Story. In other words: minimal. And Matt was…Matt.

Matt gave her a crooked smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. My job here is done anyway, as long as you like the flowers.” Then he stepped a little closer, blue eyes crinkling as they swept over her faded T-shirt and athletic shorts. “You wearing that tonight? I like it. Very GCI casual.”

Allison knew he was kidding, but she still couldn’t help saying, “My mother would die a thousand deaths and then come back to kill me.”



Matt moved closer still. “Would she kill you if you had coffee with me next week?”

Wait. Was Matt Ryan asking her out? Allison opened her mouth to reply—with what, she had no idea—then closed it as a familiar face swam into focus at the tent’s opening. Handsome, expectant, and a little bit arrogant. Adam. Her oldest brother had made it back from Boston, which meant Anders must be right behind him. So Allison straightened her shoulders once again, gave Matt her most practiced Story smile, and said, “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind at all. Let’s set that up sometime. But I have to go now. Please excuse me.”

Abraham Story might not be here anymore, but Allison knew exactly what he’d say if he found her caught between her brothers and her crush.

Family first, always.

“Guys! You’re back!” Allison called, stretching her arms out wide to greet her brothers.





“How do I look?” Milly asks, half turning in front of her closet with one hand on her hip. Her long dark hair is loose, and she’s wearing cropped white jeans and a floaty tank top patterned with vivid pink and silver flowers.

“Gorgeous,” I say truthfully.

I run a hand over the threadbare green blanket covering my twin bed while I wait for my cousin to finish getting ready. The summer hire dorms aren’t nearly as luxurious as the resort itself. Milly and I are sharing a small, bare room simply furnished with beds, built-in dressers topped with mirrors, and two desks with wooden chairs. Bathrooms are down the hallway, and if we want to watch big-screen television or sit on something with an actual cushion, we have to go to the common room. The space between our desks has been overtaken by Milly’s suitcases, which wouldn’t fit into her narrow closet. Still, if all her clothes are like what she’s wearing now, I can’t blame her for bringing them. “I love that shirt,” I say.