The Cousins(57)

“Hang on. I want to print this page.”

I wait, impatient, while the machine takes what feels like ten minutes to crank out a single page. Milly’s gone by the time we get outside, and I feel a sharp stab of regret that I stayed with Aubrey instead of going after her. We walk the few short blocks to the church, out of place in our funeral clothes among all the tourists. When we arrive at St. Mary’s, a familiar, silver-haired figure greets us somberly at the door.

“How good of you to come,” Donald Camden says.

I haven’t seen the guy since he tried to bribe us with movie jobs. It already feels like that happened months ago. He looks older and more tired than he did at lunch that day, with bags under his eyes that I don’t remember seeing then.

Aubrey blinks at him like he’s a mirage. “Aren’t we late?” she asks. Donald looks at her with a quizzical expression, and she adds, “I mean, I would’ve thought you’d be inside already. With our grandmother or something. The funeral starts at eleven, right?” She’s babbling now, and turning red, but Donald just holds out his arm.

“I’m an usher for the service. Fred Baxter was one of my oldest and dearest friends.” The phrase sounds like an echo, and it takes me a minute to remember where I heard it last. On the steps of Catmint House, spoken by Theresa. Fred Baxter was one of your grandmother’s oldest and dearest friends.

And then there were two, I think as Aubrey takes Donald’s arm.



She peers into the open door. “I think Milly is already here….”

“She is. I put her at the end of a crowded pew. She said she was alone.”

“Okay,” Aubrey says, her mouth settling into a thin line. We walk through the church vestibule and down the center aisle; we’re a lot closer to the front than I would have thought we’d be after showing up this late. An organ plays softly in the background, but our footsteps still echo loudly. A girl in the first pew turns at the sound, and I recognize Hazel Baxter-Clement. I nod and give her a tight-lipped grimace of sympathy, and she smiles faintly. Donald finally stops, gesturing toward a pew where four black-clad people shift to their right to make room for us.

“Thanks,” Aubrey whispers, releasing his arm. “And—I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that you lost your friend.”

“He’s at peace now,” Donald says in a low voice, his face grave. “And in the end that’s all that any of us can ask for, isn’t it?”





Allison took stock of herself in her bedroom mirror. She looked better than she had in a while, but then again, almost everybody looked better in a ball gown and diamonds. She’d been worried about wearing white when she was so pale, but something about this particular shade—the shimmering blue white of snow on top of a frozen lake—brought color back to her cheeks.

She’d had no trouble zipping the dress up and immediately thought, See? I haven’t put on any weight. I can’t be pregnant. Then her traitorous brain reminded her that her period was still weeks overdue, and that her stomach wouldn’t stop rolling with unfamiliar queasiness.

She didn’t know for sure, though. The test she’d stolen from Mugg’s Pharmacy sat unopened beneath a pile of sweaters in her closet. She was going to get through the Summer Gala tonight and then, finally, she’d take it.

Probably.



“Knock-knock!” came a cheerful voice at her door, accompanied by a loud rap on the wood. “You decent?”

“Yes. Come in,” Allison said. The door opened to reveal Archer in a tux, his bow tie already loosened. He grinned when he caught sight of her.

“Don’t you look fancy. Nice diamonds. Hey, guess what I found?” Archer let himself in and closed the door behind him, brandishing a green and gold bottle in one hand. “Dom Pérignon got separated from his friends.”

Allison frowned, her stomach filled with the now-familiar nausea at the thought of drinking anything alcoholic. “Can’t you wait till we get there?”

“You know what they say about a dream deferred,” Archer said. When she didn’t reply, he added, “It dries up like a raisin in the sun. Or festers—”

“I get it,” Allison snapped. “I took English composition with Ms. Hermann too, remember? All I’m saying is, maybe for once this summer, you could show enough restraint that you don’t make a fool of yourself or pass out before midnight. Or both.”

“Ouch,” Archer said, looking hurt.

“Mother spent a lot of time planning the gala, you know. It’s practically the only thing that’s made her even a little happy this summer. So how about you try not to ruin it?”

“I’m not ruining anything. God. Next time, a simple no thanks will do.” Archer shot her a reproachful look, and Allison was instantly sorry. She had no reason to lash out at her youngest brother like that. And no excuse, other than that she was a ball of jangled nerves every second of every day. That wasn’t Archer’s fault, though.



“I just meant—” she started, but Archer was already halfway through the door.

“Never mind. Message received. Dom and I know when we’re not wanted.”

Allison sighed and let him go. She didn’t know what to say anyway.