The Cousins(88)

“I don’t know,” Archer says, wincing as he awkwardly chops avocados one-handed. His shoulder bothers him a lot, but he refuses to take pain medication. “Your father still has to live with himself. I have a feeling that’s been his problem all along.”

It looks like that’s the only punishment for Matt Ryan’s death that Uncle Adam and Uncle Anders will ever get. Because Uncle Anders is right; the words of a girl who’s been dead for twenty-four years, spoken to a woman who committed massive fraud before dying in a fire she told someone to start, isn’t enough to convict anyone.

The court of public opinion has been harsh, though. The New York Post splashed the question IS IT MURDER? across the front page a couple of days ago, and social media has answered with a resounding hell yeah. Uncle Adam might be getting a temporary boost in book sales, but for most people, it’s a hate read.



Aubrey still looks glum, so Uncle Archer changes the subject. “Tell us about your new place,” he says, scooping uneven avocado chunks into the food processor.

She brightens. Her mother flew in for a day and then had to leave, to finish making arrangements for the apartment she and Aubrey will move into when Aubrey returns to Oregon. “It’s a really cute three-bedroom condo. About halfway between school and the hospital where Mom works,” she says.

“Sounds perfect,” Uncle Archer says.

Aubrey gives him a shy smile. “Maybe you can visit. If you want.”

She and Uncle Archer have been spending a lot of time together since they rescued one another from Catmint House. I know part of Aubrey is always going to wish for the kind of father-daughter relationship that Uncle Adam isn’t capable of having, but there’s something to be said for the uncle-niece bond, too.

“I absolutely will,” Uncle Archer says. “But not for a while.” Aubrey’s face falls, and he quickly adds, “I’m going to be checking into a rehab center on Cape Cod next week. Not sure how long I’ll be there, but at least a couple of months.”

“That’s great,” Aubrey and I say in near unison.

“It’s overdue,” Uncle Archer says. His red Solo cup is on the kitchen island, like always, but he hasn’t touched it since we sat down. “After that—I’m not sure. One day at a time.” He looks exhausted suddenly, and heaves himself off the stool. “You mind finishing up? I’m gonna try to take a nap.”

We murmur our assent, and he leaves. Silence falls for a few minutes until Jonah asks, “So. What are you guys doing when you get home?”



“Physical therapy,” Aubrey says promptly. “Turns out swimming is good for a sprained ankle. And I want to keep at it.” She reaches for a clove of garlic and starts to peel it. “Maybe even get back on the team.”

That startles me enough that I pour too much olive oil into the food processor, and have to scoop some out with a spoon. “Really?”

“They’re getting a new coach,” Aubrey says. “Since the old one is going on maternity leave.” Her expression darkens momentarily, but then her good cheer returns. “It’s a woman who ran a summer program I did once. She reached out to say hi and that she hopes I’m coming back. I really like her.” She nudges me with one shoulder. “What about you? What are you doing at Casa Dad? He’s in New York too, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, recapping the olive oil. “My instructions are to lie low.”

“What does that mean?” Her eyes widen in fake innocence. “No more paparazzi shots of you making out on the beach?”

“One time,” I say, cheeks burning. The beach here is private, but helicopters keep hovering above us, angling for a shot. One of them caught a surprisingly clear close-up of me and Jonah kissing in the ocean. “That happened once.”

Jonah clears his throat. “Probably wouldn’t even be an issue if we were someplace more crowded where we could blend in.” I raise my eyebrows at him, and he adds, “Like a city. Providence and New York aren’t that far from one another. There’s a bus that only costs thirteen dollars. So I’ve heard.”



“By obsessively checking the Greyhound site?” Aubrey asks brightly.

He shrugs. “Possibly.”

I fight off a smile. “I thought you had to work all summer.”

“Not all summer,” Jonah says. His expression turns pensive. “Although, you guys are practically heiresses now, so…I don’t know. Maybe it’d be too weird.”

The Story estate isn’t something we’ve talked much about since Theresa and Donald were exposed, but it’s always in the background. When Mom came to the island, she brought that diamond teardrop necklace she had promised me, but I’ve only tried it on once. Somehow, it didn’t look as good on me as I’d thought it would. I put my grandfather’s watch away, too. It’s strange, but not in a bad way, how much lighter my arm feels without it.

Nothing about the Story fortune seems real yet. But Jonah does, and I’m not ready to say a permanent good-bye any more than he is. “It wouldn’t be weird. At all,” I tell him.

He grins, and I pick up a spoon and point it at him for emphasis. “I’m not taking a bus, though. Ever. That part is nonnegotiable.”