The Cousins(53)

“We’ll need to take up the hemline, of course, but the rest fits perfectly,” the owner says. She’s an attractive woman in her late thirties with dark hair and olive skin, wearing a simple tan sheath that’s dressed up with layers of necklaces. She closed the shop when we came in, and she and the saleswoman on duty have been giving us the royal treatment for almost an hour.



I’ve never been in a store like this before. The interior practically glows with flattering white light that makes everyone’s skin flawless. The chairs are cream leather, the mirrors are antique silver, and the floor looks like luminous mother-of-pearl. Red roses are everywhere, filling the air with their soft, heady fragrance. The overall effect is like being inside a comfortable, expensive jewelry box.

“You look incredible,” I tell Milly from my chair beside the mirror. I’ve been sitting here half curled into the fetal position ever since trying on a single, horrifically unflattering dress.

“I agree,” the owner says. “If you like it, we can start the alterations right now.”

“All right,” Milly says. The owner waves toward the front of the store, and the saleswoman heads our way with a seamstress in tow. She wasn’t here when we arrived, so she must’ve been called in especially for us. The seamstress crouches beside Milly and starts pinning the dress’s hem with quick, deft hands. The attention seems to revive Milly, who offers the owner a genuine smile. “Thanks for all this. I love the dress.”

“Your mother would be thrilled,” the owner says.

“You mean my grandmother?” Milly asks.

“Well, yes, I hope so. But your mother, too. I knew Allison a little way back when. I was too young to run with the Story crowd, but my sister was friendly with all of them.”

I glance at the front of the store, where Kayla’s Boutique is written in stark black lettering above the cash register. “Are you Kayla?” I ask.



Her face droops a little. “No, I’m Oona. Kayla was my sister. She died when I was in high school, so when I opened this shop I named it after her.”

“I’m so sorry,” Milly and I say in unison, and I can feel my face get hot. Leave it to me to turn our fancy shopping trip depressing.

Oona smiles reassuringly. “Thank you. It was a long time ago. But I remember both of your parents very well. Allison was so beautiful. And Adam, well—” She lets out an almost girlish laugh. The teen version of my father seems to have had that effect on everyone. “Adam was quite dreamy, back in my day.”

For once, I don’t want to hear about my father. “Did you know Archer, too?” I ask.

It’s been two days since our brunch with Gran, and we still haven’t heard from Uncle Archer. He hasn’t been to work at the resort, either, and I’m starting to wonder if he took off once he realized his cover was well and truly blown. The thought leaves me feeling empty and unsettled, like I’ve lost something before I even knew I had it. I keep remembering the younger version of my uncle sitting amid a sea of Legos with me years ago, patiently searching for a policeman’s hat after my father, tired of my whining, sniped that I’d probably lost it. “The right hat is important,” Uncle Archer had said, unperturbed. “We’ll track it down.” And eventually, we did.

“Of course I knew Archer,” Oona says. Light and conversational, as though the entire island isn’t a boiling pot of rumors about him. “He was always friendly with the residents of Gull Cove Island, almost as though he were one of us. We’ve stayed in touch throughout the years. Lovely man, despite some…” Oona hesitates briefly before finishing with “challenges.”



“Did you know our Uncle Anders, too?” I ask.

“Oh yes. Better than any of them. Kayla dated him off and on throughout high school, and while he was at college.” Milly and I both blink in surprise, and Oona laughs ruefully. “I don’t think your grandmother ever approved.”

“Did you?” I ask, and Oona raises a brow. “I mean, did you like him?” Uncle Anders is still a mystery to me, the Story sibling I know the least about.

Oona shrugs. “He was very intense,” she says as the seamstress gets to her feet. Milly’s skirt just brushes the tips of her shoes, and Oona nods approvingly at the length. “That’s perfect. Linda, could you help Milly out of that dress so we can get started on the hem?”

The saleswoman ushers Milly off the dais and into a dressing room. The seamstress heads for the front of the store, leaving me alone with Oona. She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow with a kind smile. “You’re not quite as comfortable with this process as your cousin is, are you?” she asks.

My eyes drag toward the pile of fabric on the chair next to me. It looks so innocent now, nothing like the pink monstrosity it was when I tried it on. “Dresses don’t look good on me.”

“Nonsense.” Oona lowers her voice and leans her head toward mine. “Linda is still relatively new, and she hasn’t fully mastered the art of picking the right dress. That pink was a wonderful color for you, but I have something different in mind. Why don’t you head into a dressing room and let me bring it to you?” I nod half-heartedly, but she’s already charging toward a rack. “Take off everything except your undergarments!” she calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back!”