The Cousins(42)

“I will at the house,” Uncle Archer mumbled when he finally gave up and let Rob push him into the Honda’s passenger seat. Then he promptly passed out, or pretended to.



The drive to Rob’s house was short, just enough time for him to awkwardly ask after our parents before we reached his driveway. Then we went through another lengthy production of getting Uncle Archer out of the car, into the bungalow, and onto a small sofa. He’s sitting upright now, but sagging against the plaid cushions as Rob takes a seat at the opposite end of the sofa. Milly, Jonah, and I are lined up on a futon across from them, waiting.

Uncle Archer finally clears his throat and says, “So…this isn’t exactly how I’d planned on introducing myself to the three of you.” His glance skitters in our direction without ever really settling on us. “In retrospect, I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, and Milly fidgets beside me. Her impatience for getting some kind of explanation is coming off her in waves. “Played that song,” he finishes.

Milly sits up straighter, frowning. “That’s what you’re leading with? Song choice?”

“It’s kind of my signature song,” Uncle Archer says, as though Milly were looking for an explanation instead of expressing frustration. “Well, my family’s signature song, back when we lived here. I guess your mom told you that. And people here…”

He trails off, and Rob finishes for him. “Remember. So much for being incognito, Chaz.”

“My cover was already blown,” Uncle Archer mutters. “Blew it last week.”

“You don’t know that,” Rob says. His tone is one of patient forbearance, like he’s made the same argument more than once. “He hasn’t said anything yet, has he?”



Milly and I exchange confused glances. “Who hasn’t said anything?” she asks. “What are you talking about?”

“Tell them, Archer,” Rob says. “From the beginning.”

Uncle Archer’s head just droops in response. We all wait for him to speak again, until Rob heaves a sigh and shoots us an apologetic glance. “This might be one of those nights that we need to let him sleep it off,” he says.

“So tired,” Uncle Archer mumbles.

Milly gives them both an assessing look before getting up and heading for the kitchen. When she comes back, she’s holding a glass half full of water. She stands in front of Uncle Archer, raises the glass, and throws the water in his face.

His head jerks up and his eyes pop open, shocked but alert. “What the hell?” Water droplets cling to his beard and soak into his shirt as he wipes a sleeve across his face.

“You owe us answers,” Milly says.

“Hey, now.” Rob’s voice is gentle, but firm. “I understand that you’re frustrated, but your uncle isn’t being difficult by choice. You’re dealing with someone who has a disease, and unfortunately, sometimes this is what addiction looks like.”

Milly opens her mouth, then closes it and drops back onto the futon, red-faced. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her look chastened, and I have to admit—I’m glad she does. Normally I like her hard-charging style, but seeing Uncle Archer like this makes my chest hurt. Milly said on the way over that we should’ve realized who he was earlier, but I don’t see how we could have. My last memory of Uncle Archer is of him handsome and laughing, crouching on the floor with me to build a Lego town when I was a little kid. There’s nothing familiar about this version unless you know to look for it.



“I’m sorry,” Milly says quietly.

“It’s okay,” Uncle Archer says, blinking through still-wet eyes. “I deserved that. And hey, what do you know? It might’ve done the trick.” He laughs shakily and swipes the last of the water droplets from his beard. “I owe you an apology, too. All of you. You asked me, in Dunes, if I brought you here. Truth is, I did.”

And there it is: the answer to a two-week mystery. But it only raises more questions, and for once, Milly seems reluctant to ask them. Jonah’s basically useless, since he’s too worried about saying the wrong thing, so I guess it’s up to me. “Why? And how?”

Uncle Archer looks longingly at Milly’s discarded glass, like he wishes it were still full and holding something stronger than water. “It started with Edward—you remember Edward Franklin?” He looks at us questioningly, and we all nod. Milly recovers enough to elbow me in the side with a self-satisfied smirk, since she’s been trying to follow the Edward Franklin thread all week. “Well, Edward and I were introduced by a mutual friend in Boston last winter, and we hit it off. When I found out where he worked, it seemed like fate. I’d been thinking a lot about family, and home, and I just—I wanted to come back. But I knew I couldn’t waltz in here as Archer Story. I asked Edward to set me up with a bartending job at the resort, and Rob if I could pose as a friend from out of town while I got my bearings.”

“Bearings?” I echo, and Archer sends me a wry smile.

“I had this silly fantasy at first that I’d run into Mother at some point, and all the anger she’s been holding on to would melt away. That she’d realize she wants to be reunited just as much as I do. But that didn’t happen. I haven’t even caught a glimpse of her the entire time I’ve been here. She keeps herself very isolated. Even when she comes to the resort for business reasons, she only sees a handful of people.”