twenty-eight | will
TWENTY-EIGHTWill
I’m in the office, going through the reservations of the guests who’ll be checking in tomorrow to see if there’s any special requests, when I hear a peal of laughter.
I glance out the window and see Emberly’s friends cruising up the driveway on their yellow bicycles.
A few summers ago, Brighton convinced me to purchase a small fleet and rent them out to the guests.
The paved bike trails the county added a few years ago have been drawing more tourists to the area, so it turned out to be a good idea.
I watch them dismount awkwardly—and laugh again. None of them look like they’re upset about ending their vacation a day early.
Unlike Emberly.
I only heard pieces of the conversation, but it was Emberly’s expression that told me she wasn’t aware of their plan. She looked confused. Confused and disappointed.
Not my business.
Isn’t that what I’d told Reeve?
Isn’t that what I’ve been telling myself?
So why does my blood pressure spike when the door opens and they sashay into the office?
“Oh! Hi.” The brunette—Whitney—giggles when she spots me behind the desk. “We’re returning your bikes. Sorry we never got a chance to use them.”
“No problem.” I open the file and the invoice pops up on the screen. “You only rented three,” I say slowly.
Whitney nods.
Up until now, my theory was just that. A theory. Reeve thought I was onto something, but I realize I don’t want to be right.
But here’s the truth, in black and white.
This is why Emberly’s friends reserved a two-bedroom cabin. Only rented three bikes.
They hadn’t expected her to show up.
Not only am I insulted that they deliberately chose my resort to discourage Emberly from coming to their reunion, I’m angry that when they came back and found her here, they planned activities they thought she wouldn’t enjoy in an attempt to ditch her again.
Reeve was right. A mutiny.
“I still have to charge you the rental fee.” I try to keep my voice even. “It’ll be one hundred and fifty dollars for the week.”
Olivia starts to open her purse, but I’m going to give them one more chance.
“Would you like to take care of it now or should I add it to the final bill?”
The one Emberly had insisted on paying.
It may not be fair to test them, but I look at it as giving them one more chance to prove me wrong.
“You can add it to the bill,” Rachelle says sweetly.
I nod … even though I won’t. I’d rather eat the cost myself than pass it onto Emberly.
“I hope you enjoyed your stay.” I close the file and the voice inside my head gets louder.
None of Your Business, Will.
“We had a lot of fun,” Whitney titters.
Don’t Say It.
“Really?” I guess I’m saying it. “Or did you have fun making sure Emberly didn’t?”
They stare at me. Whitney and Olivia glance at Rachelle. Incredibly, she smiles.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hike. The concert. Horseback riding. Is that what you usually do at your reunions?”
“We do whatever Emberly decides we’re doing.” Rachelle’s voice practically drips with resentment. “This year, we wanted to try something new. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No,” I admit. “But maybe there’s something wrong with expecting her to pay for it?”
“She insists,” Whitney interjects. “Perfect Emberly with her perfect little life. We work … she shops. She has no idea what it’s like to live in the real world.”
The guilt I wanted them to feel hits me square in the chest. Because I’d been guilty of thinking the same thing. Before I got to know her.
“We should go,” Olivia murmurs at the same time my cell phone starts to ring.
Ordinarily, I’d say ‘Thank you for choosing Pinehart’. Or “Please come back and see us again’.”
This time, I don’t say a word as they file out the door.
My phone has stopped ringing but I see a missed call from Brighton.
My sisters and I have a chat group, but Brighton schedules a weekly call with Cab every Friday evening. And since Cab doesn’t have a cell phone yet—because I’m the meanest older brother in the entire universe—any communication gets routed through mine.
It’s a few hours earlier than usual, but I’d totally forgotten about it.
I don’t feel like talking. I don’t feel like feeling. But it’s Brighton, so I can’t ignore her. What I can do is call her back and pretend that everything on this side of the world is going great.
“Hey, Bright.”
“Hi.”
“I’m not sure where Cab is at the moment, but I’ll track her down.
” Other than a brief play-by-play of her day with Eden, I haven’t seen Cab since she got home.
I look out the window to see if she’s hanging by the waterfront with Rider and Riley.
They’re leaving in the morning, too, and saying goodbye to her friends is going to be tough even though she knows she’ll see them next summer.
I won’t see Emberly next summer. After tomorrow, I won’t ever see her again. I knew this, so why does it hit me so hard?
“Actually, you’re the one I wanted to talk to,” Bright says.
Now I’m picking up a weird vibe. “Okay.”
“We were invited to perform at the American embassy in Paris. It’s not on our original itinerary, but Jayne decided we shouldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
“That’s great! When’s the performance?”
The split-second of silence on the other end of the line is the first indication that maybe this isn’t so great.
“Monday.”
“The day you’re flying home?”
“Not anymore.” Brighton groans. “I’m so sorry, Will. I talked to Jayne about leaving before the rest of the group, but she wants me to perform a solo.”
“A solo at the embassy? You have to stay,” I tell her firmly. “If you’re a day late coming home, no big deal.”
“We can’t get a flight out until Thursday.” Brighton’s voice thins.
That’s when it hits me.
Friday is Cab’s birthday party.
Now it’s a big deal. I haven’t given Cab’s party any thought because Brighton promised she would take care of all the details, like she does every year.
I’m the guy who sets up table and chairs, picks up the pizza and soda. Stays in the background while the resort is overrun with little girls.
“Okay.”
“I’ll talk to Jayne—” I hear a sniffle.
Brighton has the softest heart of anyone I know, plus she’s already battling guilt that she couldn’t come home this summer to help out.
“No.” I cut her off. “It’s fine. I can order a cake. Blow up some balloons—”
Brighton makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a sob. “Iris isn’t turning six, Will. This is her thirteenth birthday. She’s officially going to be a teenager.”
I don’t want to think about Cab being a teenager. That means driving lessons. Out of control hormones. Boyfriends. I guess it also means no balloons.
Thoughts pile up inside my head like a log jam.
“What did you have planned?”
“Iris wants a theme party, but she keeps changing her mind, so I told her to write down some ideas and we’d pull everything together when we got home.”
A theme party?
In the past, the theme is birthday. Pizza. Cake. Ice cream. Presents. Then, after two hours of nonstop giggling, everyone goes home.
“You could ask Reeve to help.”
This time, I’m the one who laughs.
“She has back-to-back excursions this coming week.” And even if she didn’t, Reeve isn’t the theme party type. “I’ll talk to Cab and find out what she’s thinking. Maybe you could do a little pre-planning over the phone.”
Even as I say the words, I realize it won’t work. Brighton had emailed her itinerary before she left. The time difference alone would pose a challenge, but her days and nights are booked solid, either with practices or performances.
“Never mind.” I inject what I hope is the perfect amount of lightness in my tone. “You go impress the embassy and I’ll take care of things on this end. You’ll be here for her birthday and that’s what matters.”
“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”
“Not a bit.” Freaking out and lying.
But Brighton must believe me, because she sighs. “You’re the best, Will. You know that, right?”
I don’t answer.
Mom and Dad were the best. The best at running the resort. The best parents. The best at knowing how to talk to people.
Me? Most days it feels like I’m barely keeping up with all the responsibilities.
Dad made it look so easy. He loved the outdoors and what Mom called “puttering” in the shop.
He had a knack for fixing things. I watch YouTube videos.
Mom was the heart of Pinehart. The reason we have so many families return year after year. They were the perfect team.
I’m still flying blind most of the time.
“I’ll email my new flight schedule. It’s coming in pretty late at night, though, so if you’d rather pick me up Friday morning, I can book a hotel.”
“No hotel.” I’m hoping Cab will understand why Brighton won’t be home when she’d originally planned, but it’s a lot to ask her to spend a good chunk of her birthday in my truck right before her party. “Knox’s a night owl. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind playing chauffeur.”
Nothing.
“Hello? Bright? Still there?” I tap the phone against my palm as if it’s actually going to improve the reception.
“I’m here. Um … that’s a pretty big favor to ask.”
“He owes me.” All through high school, I covered for the guy whenever Knox’s parents called, wondering where he was. When I’d ask about it the next day, Knox refused to say.
In the background, I hear female chatter and someone calls Brighton’s name.
“Go,” I tell her. “Play your fiddle.”
Brighton always laughs when I call it that, but this time she sighs again.
“Iris—”
“She’ll understand.” I really hope Cab understands.
“I’ll try to call tomorrow after practice and talk to her about the party.”
“Fine.” I’m already thinking the theme will be bowling. Shoe rental and pizza. Done.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk about you,” Brighton frets. “How are the guests this week?”
And of course, my mind instantly downloads an image of one in particular.
“Good.”
“That’s what you always say.”
“Then why do you keep asking?”
She snorts a laugh and then her voice gets all crackly. “I really miss you guys.”
“We miss you, too.”
She smacks a kiss and I hang up the phone. Turn around and see Cab standing in the doorway. The stricken look on her face tells me she overheard at least part of our conversation.
“Bright isn’t coming home?”
“She’ll be here,” I say quickly. “It’s just that her group can’t leave until Thursday.”
“But … that’s the day before my party. She’s supposed to help me plan everything!”
Tears are already glistening in Cab’s eyes and I’m tempted to hit redial and let Brighton handle the fallout. But then both of them would be crying.
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
Dad used to back up the words with a hug, but when I start to walk toward her, Cab feints to one side and crosses her arms.
No touchy. Got it.
“Cab … it’ll be okay. If you give me a list of what you need, I’ll have it here by the time she gets home.”
“I don’t know what I need.” Cab’s voice drops to a whisper and that’s when I know Brighton wasn’t lying when she said this was a big deal.
Cab never screams or yells when she’s upset.
She gets quiet. Withdraws. There’ve been times I wished she would throw something or stomp her foot, instead of concentrating so hard on keeping all her emotions inside.
I’m beginning to think it’s a Hartley family trait.
“You must have something in mind. You already sent out the invitations.” I realize I don’t even know how many of her friends are planning to come.
“I told everyone it’s a surprise.”
Relief makes me stupid and I say the first thing that comes to mind. “So, it doesn’t matter what we do.”
Cab pivots toward the door.
“Iris …” She pauses when I say her name but doesn’t turn around. “All I meant is that we have time to work on it.”
Now she looks at me.
“When?”
The word hangs in the air between us. Cab knows better than anyone how busy the resort is this time of year.
“You come up with a theme and I’ll take care of the details. I promise.”
“I don’t care about a theme.” Cab is whispering again. “I just … I told everyone it’s going to be amazing.”
Brighton could pull off amazing. My automatic go-to was pizza and bowling.
She slips out the door, but this time I let her go. Reach for a sofa pillow and whip it at the wall. Feel a moment of panic when it misses one of Cab’s trophy bluegills by a quarter inch.
What am I doing? I’m on a roll tonight.
I swipe the pillow off the floor and set it back on the couch. Straighten it.
Because that’s what I do.
I make things right.
But this is one thing I have no idea how to fix.