The Cousins(28)

“More than it should. Worst-kept secret at the resort. Everyone knows except Carson.” Marty’s gaze turns toward the dining room, where Carson’s blond head gleams beneath the restaurant’s dim lighting as he makes his way back toward us. “Chaz is a good guy, though, and a great bartender when he’s sober. So we try to look out for him.”

“Understood,” I say as Carson lifts his hand in a wave. He’s not alone, and my heart stops for a second when I realize there’s an older woman walking beside him. Is Mildred finally making an appearance? But when they get closer, I realize my mistake. This woman is around the same age as my grandmother, but her hair is gray, not pure white, and she’s wearing a simple brown dress and clogs. Carson looks delighted to be by her side, though, and steers her my way with a wide smile.



“Milly, I have an introduction to make. Your grandmother’s assistant, Theresa Ryan, is here to see you. She has news.”

Carson says it with breathless anticipation, earning a low chuckle from Theresa. She holds out her hand, clasping warm fingers around mine when I take it. “That makes me sound very exciting, doesn’t it? Hello, Milly. Lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” I say, my pulse quickening. My mother had always gotten along well with Theresa—they were the only Yankees fans in a house full of Red Sox fanatics, she used to tell me—and they’d stayed in touch for a few years after Mom’s disinheritance. Theresa was always kind, Mom said, but firm that Mildred hadn’t shared her reasons with anyone except Donald Camden. Eventually, my mother got frustrated and stopped speaking with her, too.

“Mrs. Story asked me to come by. She’ll be back on the island soon, and wanted to have the three of you over to Catmint House for brunch on Sunday. Not tomorrow,” she adds when my eyes widen. “She’ll still be in Boston, and anyway, that’s the Fourth of July. You children should stay close to the resort; there are always such lovely events planned for staff and guests, and a truly breathtaking fireworks display. I’m sure Carson has told you all about it.”

I glance at Carson, and can read the plea in his fixed smile. Please, Milly. Pretend just this once that you didn’t tune me out when I started talking about Towhee activities. “Oh yes, of course,” I say. “Looking forward to it.”



“Wonderful. I do hope you enjoy,” Theresa says. “At any rate, your grandmother would like to have you over for brunch the following Sunday, on July eleventh. I’m hoping that won’t be a problem with their work schedules?” she adds, turning to Carson with a smile.

“Of course not,” he assures her.

“Okay,” I say, searching Theresa’s gaze for a hint of anything behind her words. Does my grandmother want to see us? Or does she just feel like she has to, in order to keep up appearances? But Theresa’s pleasant expression doesn’t change.

“Mrs. Story also wanted to make sure that you leave July seventeenth open. That’s a Saturday, the night of the Summer Gala, and she’d like you to attend as her guests.” An image flashes through my mind of my mother at age eighteen, wearing a white ball gown and her diamond teardrop necklace. The one I wanted so much that I gave up my summer for it.

Except, I’ve realized, it’s not quite that simple.

Yes, I want the necklace. But more than that, I want Mom to want to give it to me. I want her to be the kind of person who would care about passing along something meaningful from mother to daughter, no strings attached. But she’s not. So if I can’t have that, then what I really came for is this: the chance to be in the presence of my grandmother, her circle of confidants, and all these Gull Cove Island people who remember Mom as a child and teenager. Because surely, one of them has to know what happened twenty-four years ago to make Mildred Story sever ties with all four of her children and never look back. And maybe if I know that, I’ll finally be able to understand my mother.



Theresa is still talking, and I refocus my wandering attention on her. “It’s a formal affair—tuxedos for the men and gowns for the women,” she explains. “We realize you probably don’t have the appropriate attire on hand, so you and your cousins should feel free to shop at any of the island’s boutiques and charge your purchases to the Story account.”

Despite the weirdness of the situation, I feel a little thrill. It’s almost like my childhood shopping fantasy, except for the part where Mildred delegates the details to her assistant. Plus…“Nothing will fit,” I say. When Theresa raises her brows again, I flip a hand toward my torso. “I’m too short to wear anything full-length off the rack.”

Theresa lets out another soft chuckle. “Don’t worry. Your alterations will be a priority for whichever shop you choose,” she says, like that settles the matter.

And I guess it does.





“So.” Milly looks at me expectantly. “Should we tell about Fake Jonah before we have brunch with Mildred, or not?”

I swallow the last of my Plumwich before answering. We’re in downtown Gull Cove on a Tuesday afternoon, trying the signature dessert at Sweetfern Bakery: an ice cream sandwich made with beach plum ice cream and fried doughnut halves. It sounds better than it tastes, but that didn’t stop either of us from finishing.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Who would we tell?”