The Cousins(91)

“I’m stripes,” she announces, giving me a coy glance from beneath her lashes.

There it is. That’s the look that gets me every time. I forget where we are and reach for her, plucking the pool cue out of her hand so I can pull her close. Her silky hair is long and loose, and I brush it from her face before I kiss her. She lets out a soft sigh and melts into me, and I forget all about the endless three weeks since I saw her last.



I also forget about Enzo, until he coughs. “Parent. Parking lot,” he says, and I release Milly a few seconds before my mother walks through the door.

Not that she’d mind. She loves Milly, and she’s the one who invited her to stay with us after Christmas. But I’m trying to keep the awkward factor low so that Milly won’t ever hesitate to come back.

By train, of course. She wasn’t kidding about the bus.

“Mail came,” Mom says to Enzo, dropping a thick pile of paper on the bar. “There’s a new catalog from ServMor Bar Supply, if you’re interested.”

“I am,” he says, plucking it from the stack with reverence. Ever since his stint at Home Depot, you can’t keep Enzo away from DIY projects to improve Empire Billiards. We don’t open for another hour, but he got here early to install what he claims is a more durable bar rail.

Mom turns to Milly and me. “I’m going to make myself a burger and some fries before we open. You two want anything?”

“Same,” I say, with a questioning look toward Milly.

“Me too,” she says. “Thanks, Mrs. North.”

“Of course! Anything for you, Enzo?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Okay. Just give me ten or fifteen minutes, kids.” Mom disappears into the kitchen. Enzo tucks the catalog and the rest of the mail under his arm.

“I’ll be reading this in the office for the next ten minutes,” he announces, ducking out from behind the bar. “Do with this empty room what you will.”



I moved a respectable distance from Milly when Mom came in, but close the gap now with a grin. “Where were we?” I ask, circling her waist with my hands.

She stretches on her toes to peck me on the lips, then pulls away. “We were about to call Aubrey, remember? I promised I’d FaceTime her at four.”

“Goddamn it,” I say, but I don’t mean it. I’m looking forward to catching up with Aubrey, too.

I wasn’t sure what would happen when the three of us left Gull Cove Island at the end of July. We’d just lived through the wildest, weirdest month imaginable, and it was hard to tell whether the intense relationships we’d formed with one another would last in regular life. Especially with all the estate stuff in such a colossal mess. It turned into a Story sibling showdown: Allison and Archer on one side, trying to untangle what was left and settle it fairly; and Adam and Anders on the other, dodging creditors and accountability while slapping nuisance lawsuits on anyone who’d ever worked with Donald Camden.

At first, I couldn’t believe all the money was gone. But in the end, it very nearly was. Donald, Theresa, Fred Baxter, and Paula had lived high on the hog for twenty-four years, surrounding themselves with the kind of luxury I can’t even imagine. They took extravagant trips, bought priceless art and other collectibles that they didn’t bother to insure, and renovated the Story properties so extensively that even those mile-high hotel rates couldn’t keep up. Dr. Baxter’s gambling problem never went away, so he lost millions in Vegas every year. Donald Camden barely worked; he kept a shell of an office and a skeleton staff so he’d look respectable, and spent more on that every year than he came close to taking in.



By the time the dust settled, the amount left over for Adam, Anders, Allison, and Archer to split was, relatively speaking, minuscule. “Just enough to pay for rehab,” Archer likes to say. But at least, since he’s been sober for five months, it was good rehab.

Archer cares less than anyone about being broke. He’s back on Gull Cove Island, working for Rob Valentine, and he’s oddly serene about painting buildings that his family used to own. “Greed pulled this family apart,” he told Milly when we visited him over Veterans Day weekend. He looked good: clear-eyed and clean-shaven, if a little on the thin side. “And honestly, if there’d been anything of significance left at this point? It probably would’ve happened all over again. I don’t want to spend my life fighting with Adam and Anders over the family fortune, and I don’t want to see it warp you like it did us. And Donald, and Theresa, and the rest of that messed-up crew.”

“Maybe,” Milly said grudgingly. “But still. It wasn’t their money to spend!”

“No, it wasn’t,” Archer agreed. “Let’s look on the bright side, though. I don’t want it. I really don’t. I’m happier living a quiet life back home than I’ve been in years. Allison doesn’t need it. She’s built a fantastic career all on her own. Megan’s done the same, so Aubrey will be just fine. Not to mention all those swim scholarships heading her way. And as for Adam and Anders…” He permitted himself a small smile then. “They don’t deserve it.”

Adam Story’s book fell off the bestseller list after two weeks. For a while, we were sure he’d be asked to write another, but the only story that people are interested in hearing from him is his own. And that’s the one he refuses to tell.