The Cousins(68)

I still can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together about Jonah’s family. And I can’t believe…but no. I’m not going to think about him when I have to keep my mind clear for whatever’s about to go down with Donald.

Who’s currently looking at Aubrey and me with undisguised irritation, waiting for us to take the seats he ordered us into. We both remain standing. “Uncle Anders is a liar—” I start, but Donald holds up a hand.

“Yes, he is. And so are the two of you. So here’s what’s going to happen. As of this morning, you are no longer employed at Gull Cove Resort. You will be paid for the full summer, which in my view is very generous.” His lips purse on the last word. “You’re expected to make arrangements with your parents for your return within three days, and you have an open ferry ticket for today, tomorrow, and Tuesday. However, before you leave, Mrs. Story wishes to see you, Aubrey.” His gaze locks on her, and she stiffens beside me. “A car will pick you up at one p.m. sharp from the resort’s front entrance and take you to Catmint House.”



“What?” she asks, at the same time as I ask, “Just Aubrey? Not me?”

“Mrs. Story wishes to speak with Aubrey alone, as a representative for the cousins,” Donald says. His nostrils flare. “I advised against any further contact, considering the damage all of you have already done. But she was insistent.”

Aubrey looks horrified as I ask, “A representative? What does that mean? Why not me?”

Donald’s lip curls. “She didn’t say. If I were to guess, your behavior last night renders you…less suitable.”

“Suitable for what?” I practically yell the words, which probably proves his point.

“I don’t want to go,” Aubrey says.

“That is, of course, entirely up to you,” Donald says. “The car will be there at one o’clock, and it will wait for fifteen minutes.”

“What if we don’t leave?” I ask. “The island, I mean.”

It gives me an ounce of satisfaction when Donald’s smooth expression briefly gives way to surprise. “If you don’t leave? Well that’s…I mean…you must.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “I don’t think we must do anything. You’re not the boss of us. And neither is Mildred anymore. We can stay here if we want.”

Aubrey darts a nervous glance toward me as Donald’s mask of composure returns. “As I stated, your rooms at the resort dorms are only good through Tuesday morning. After that, we will be taking your keys and you will no longer have access to the building.”

“There are other hotels,” I say.

“Most of which your grandmother owns,” Donald points out. “Further, your severance package is contingent on you agreeing to the terms laid out by Mrs. Story.”



“We don’t want her money,” I say. “You can keep it.” Then I look apologetically at Aubrey, realizing that I spoke for her without thinking. I know things are a lot tighter financially in her household than in mine, especially with the threat of divorce looming. But she’s nodding right along with me.

Donald’s neck flushes a deep red, and it’s a beautiful sight. But he merely says, “You have nowhere to go except home.”

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?” I turn for the door, and Aubrey does too. It’s as good an exit line as I’m going to get, especially since he’s right.

Aubrey clutches my arm as we speed-walk down the hallway. “You weren’t serious, were you?” she whispers. “About staying on the island?”

“No,” I admit. “I wanted to give Donald a hard time, but he’s right. We don’t have anywhere else to go.” I pull out my phone, getting ready to send a text to my mother, and one flashes from Uncle Archer. I frown in momentary impatience, until a new idea hits me. I hold my screen up to Aubrey with a grin. “Or then again, maybe we do. Want to go for a drive? I never did return those keys to the Jeep.”



* * *



—

An hour later, we’re sitting in the bungalow’s living room, fully caught up with Uncle Archer. Unfortunately, he comes with an unexpected roommate who was supposed to be gone already.

I accepted Uncle Archer’s apology. I stopped Jonah’s attempt with a look. Every time I think about him abandoning me on the balcony so he could settle a grudge against Uncle Anders that he’d never bothered to tell me about, hurt stabs at my chest.

“So you’re going home?” Jonah asks.



“I guess we have to,” I mutter. When I’d imagined Uncle Archer’s bungalow as a temporary port in the storm, I didn’t realize we’d have to share it with Jonah.

“What does your mother think about all this?” Uncle Archer asks me, then inclines his head toward Aubrey. “And your father?”

Uncle Archer looks much better than he did the last time we saw him. There’s a red Solo cup in front of him half filled with clear liquid that he’s been sipping from the entire time we’ve been talking, and his hands never quite stop shaking, but he’s been coherent throughout the conversation.

“They don’t know,” I say. “And we’re not telling them. Not yet.” Uncle Archer looks conflicted, and I add, “First we want to see what Mildred says to Aubrey.”