The Cousins(51)

Not that I could get into the Ivy League. But still.

The bitter thought distracts me until Theresa leads us through a set of glass French doors. We step onto an expansive porch overlooking the ocean, framed by a stainless steel railing. I feel a sense of déjà vu, even though I’ve never been here, because Mom has described this porch in so much detail. It was her favorite spot in the entire house.

“Mildred, the children are here,” Theresa calls.



My grandmother is sitting at a teak table, shaded by an enormous, gauzy umbrella set up behind her. There are four place settings, and three tiered trays holding a mouthwatering array of sandwiches, pastries, and fruit. Mildred is wearing a sun hat despite the umbrella, and a beautiful patterned scarf over a long-sleeved, cream-colored linen dress. Her gloves are the same cream color, short enough that I can see the stack of gold bracelets on her left arm. Her white hair is loose and wavy, and she’s wearing a pair of large black sunglasses.

Not fair, I think as I take a seat. I thought sunglasses would be rude, or I would’ve brought my own. I could use some camouflage right about now.

“Aubrey. Jonah. Milly,” Mildred says, inclining her head toward each of us in turn. “Welcome to Catmint House.” Theresa steps away as a man in a black apron materializes behind us, offering coffee, tea, or juice in a hushed tone. “Please help yourselves to whatever you would like to eat,” Mildred adds.

“Thank you,” we chorus, but nobody makes a move toward the food.

“Unless nothing appeals to you?” she asks dryly, and then silverware clatters as we all try to fill our plates at the same time. Damn her, I think, stabbing a slice of melon with my fork. We haven’t even been here two minutes and she already has us jumping to do her bidding.

Jonah, who’s sitting beside me, is staring at the sandwiches with an expression of mild dread. “They’re all full of lettuce,” he whispers. “And nothing else.”

“Here.” I poke one with my fork. “I think that’s roast beef.” Jonah grabs it gratefully. Aubrey plays it safe by piling her plate high with mini pastries.



“So.” Mildred folds her hands under her chin. I wait for the obvious question: Why are you here? But it doesn’t come. Instead, she tilts her head toward Jonah and says, “I must confess, Jonah, that I see nothing of Anders in you.”

Jonah tries to buy time by biting off half of his roast beef sandwich and then—disaster. His face turns red, his eyes water, and he gags before lunging for a napkin and spitting gobs of half-chewed food into it. “What was that?” he gasps, reaching for his water glass. I look at the uneaten sandwich half on his plate, and catch sight of a creamy white substance nestled between the layers of roast beef.

“Oh, um. Looks like horseradish. Sorry about that,” I say as Jonah drains the entire glass of water in two gulps. “He’s not a fan,” I add, to Mildred.

“So I see.” She plucks a plump blackberry from the top of a miniature tart and pops it in her mouth. The gesture is startling, like this person actually eats? I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she just feeds off decades-old resentment.

When Mildred has chewed and swallowed, she finally takes off her sunglasses, setting them on the table beside her plate. Her eyes, ringed with heavy eyeliner like the first time we saw her, remain on Jonah. “Tell me,” she says. “Is Anders doing well?”

Jonah goes still, except for the slight twitch of a muscle in his jaw, for so long that I wonder if he misunderstood the question. Then he reaches for the pitcher of ice water and pours himself a fresh glass, taking his time like there’s no awkward silence whatsoever. When he finishes, he looks at Mildred and inhales a slow, deep breath. Almost as though he’s about to give a speech. “Do you want me to answer that honestly?” he asks.



His voice is calm, with a hint of a challenge. It’s like all of his earlier unease has suddenly vanished, and for some reason that makes me uneasy.

Mildred arches a brow. “I do.”

I let out an involuntary, nervous cough. Jonah blinks, catches my eye, and a deep flush stains his cheeks. He turns back to Mildred and mutters, “I guess he’s okay. I don’t know. We’re not close.”

An emotion I can’t decipher flits across Mildred’s face as she turns toward Aubrey. “You also look very little like your father, although I see traces of him in the shape of your eyes, and your chin.” Aubrey looks surprised, and gratified, at the comparison. “How is Adam nowadays?”

Aubrey tugs at the collar of her shirtdress and wets her lips. She hasn’t touched her pastries yet or any of the three beverages in front of her. She’s nervous, but her voice is steady as she says, “He’s pretty much the same as always.”

Mildred takes a delicate sip of tea. “In other words, he thinks the sun rises and sets on him, and surrounds himself with people who agree?” she asks.

I can feel my eyes pop as Aubrey goes red. Jesus, lady, I think. If he’s like that, don’t you think you might’ve had something to do with it?

Aubrey’s obvious agreement with Mildred’s jab is at war with loyalty her father doesn’t deserve, and the conflict is written all over her face. Mildred relents, going so far as to briefly pat Aubrey’s hand with gloved fingertips. “Forgive me,” she says. “This has been a difficult weekend. I didn’t mean to lead with—well. Let’s talk of happier things. I understand that you’re a competitive swimmer?” Aubrey nods, gratefully, as Mildred adds, “Your father must be proud of you. He always prized athletic ability.”