Chapter 9
nine
HUDSON
It becomes increasingly obvious during the run up to the party that I’ve been duped about it being just a casual kid’s celebration. I’m in crisis mode thanks to the London deal, which means not only being in video calls at stupid hours of the morning, but going over to the mainland to catch a helicopter to New York to meet some investors who are getting itchy feet.
I’ve also had three calls from the local Alcohol and Beverage Commission wanting my opinion on an application for a liquor licence for The Salty Dog bar, as the main land owner of the island.
I told them I have no objection and I’d appreciate it if they pushed it through. Not because I’m interested in her, I tell myself, but because it will help the hotel if all the surrounding establishments are open for the summer.
She’s not leaving. That much is obvious. So I’ve asked Autumn to resurrect the design plans I had her draw up when I planned to buy the place. If the bar is going to be open, I’d like it to have some luxury about it. She’s promised to mention it to Skyler in a delicate way.
Whatever .
Despite everything on my mind I’m still present enough to notice the huge delivery trucks that pull up to the hotel every day, bringing food, decorations, two huge covered tents and a full-size fairground carousel with pink horses and carriages that makes Ayda jump up and down when she sees it.
“Can I have a word?” I ask Autumn, two days before the party when I get a message from Eden – our other sister – saying how sorry she is that she can’t make it to the party of the year but she hopes to visit soon.
Autumn is wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt, with her ear pods in because she’s obviously making calls as she works, and has that tablet that goes everywhere with her. She’s currently talking to a man with Hal’s Hog Roasts written on his t-shirt.
As soon as she clocks me standing there, a guilty look comes over her face. “Oh, hi.” She takes a deep breath. “Can it wait? I’m kind of busy.”
I tip my head to the side. “When can you fit me into your busy schedule?” It comes out more sarcastically than I’d hoped. But she knows how fucking overwhelmed I am. The thought of this weekend’s impending doom is making my teeth grind.
She presses her lips together, like she’s weighing her options. “Okay,” she finally concedes. “I guess I have five minutes.” She looks at the Hal’s Hog Roast guy. “Can you start unloading in the back? Near the far tent. I’ll be right out.”
“Sure.”
Taking her elbow, I lead her into the reception area of the hotel, then through the door marked ‘private’ where we have offices.
Mine is at the end, overlooking the ocean. I open the old oak door – restored from the original turn-of-the-last-century hotel, and usher my sister in.
“Exactly how long have you been planning this thing?”
“What thing?” she asks, her voice faux-innocent. She gives me that doe-eyed look she thinks works with me every time.
“This party. I might be a novice at event planning, but even I know it must have taken you a hell of a lot longer than fourteen days to arrange everything that’s happening outside.”
She shifts her feet. “I’m very good at organizing things.”
“Not that good,” I growl.
She looks like she’s about to laugh. Why is it that the women I interact with think they can grab me by the balls and twist?
“Relax,” she says, patting my arm like I’m a child. “I’ve got it covered. And I scored us some pretty great deals.”
“How much is this costing me?” Truth be told, that’s the least of my concerns. It’s my kid’s birthday, I have the money, I’m okay with paying whatever it takes to make her happy. But still, I’m pissed at being kept in the dark.
“I haven’t totaled it up yet, but I set myself a really challenging budget,” she says. “And Parker says that if you don’t want to pay, we can. We’re her godparents, after all.”
“You’re not a godparent, you’re an aunt.”
“Po-tay-to po-tah-to,” she says. “Why are you such a grumpy pants? Do you know how hard I’ve been working at this? I’ve saved so much money by not hiring an event planner. And you’d better buck your mood up by the weekend. Everybody’s looking forward to seeing you.”
I blink. “Everybody?” My voice is weak.
As soon as I repeat the word she realizes she’s messed up. She swallows hard, saying nothing.
“How many people are coming to this party?” I ask, my voice ominously low.
“Just family…” She pulls her lip between her teeth. “And friends. And some people that West and Parker suggested would be good to have here.”
“You’ve invited business acquaintances to my daughter’s princess party?” For fuck’s sake. I hate being blindsided. Autumn knows this.
She looks over my shoulder at the door, like she’s trying to figure out how quickly she can escape. “It kind of grew,” she admits.
“Seriously,” I tell her, because I’m losing it here. “I need to have a complete list of who’s coming. You shouldn’t have invited people without my say so.”
“You didn’t even want to hand out the invitations with Ayda,” Autumn protests. “If I’d run the guest list past you, we both know that you’d have vetoed everybody.”
“And where are they all sleeping?”
“We’ve booked rooms in the hotel and Eileen’s guest house, plus a lot of them are coming by yacht and sleeping out there. The accommodation is all covered, Hudson.” She’s smiling again. “All you have to do is show up and enjoy it.”
That’s asking way too much. I let out an agonized groan.
My phone starts to buzz and I glance at the caller, seeing it’s Damien in London reminds me that I was supposed to join a video call five minutes ago.
“You should go,” Autumn says, looking delighted at the interruption. “By the way, you don’t even need to worry about a costume. I’ve ordered a fabulous one for you.”
“What costume?” I ask, as I quickly type out a message to Damien to tell him I’ll be on our call in two minutes.
“For the party. Princesses and princes, remember?”
“Hell, no,” I growl. “I’ll go to the party, and I’ll pay for the whole thing, and I’ll even attempt to smile when I remember. But I’m not wearing a fucking costume.”
She laughs. “We’ll see.” Then she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, her body language telling me she thinks she’s won this round.
Probably because she has.
* * *
SKYLER
“Okay Slutty Princess,” Lee says, her face beaming at me through the screen of my phone. “It’s time for the big reveal. Show me what you’ve got.”
“I told you, I’m not going as a slutty princess to a children’s party,” I say, rolling my eyes at Lee. “It was just something I said to rile the man up.”
“You seem to enjoy riling him up,” she says, looking suddenly interested.
“That’s because he’s an ass with a stick up his behind.” Though I think we both know that’s not the reason why.
“He has a great behind though.” She sighs. “Have you seen how good he looks in a suit?”
“No,” I lie. “And nor have you.” Truth is I haven’t seen much of the man for the past few days. A couple of times I’ve seen his expensive car drive past and felt my heart race, but he hasn’t stopped.
This is a good thing, I tell myself.
“I’ve seen photographs,” Lee says.
“You’re married, you’re not supposed to be looking at other men,” I point out.
“Shut up. And show me your costume. I’m dying to see it.”
“Okay.” I put the phone on the little shelf next to the mirror in the bathroom, angling it so that when I take a few steps back she can see a full-length image of me dressed as a princess.
I got the costume last week when I went over to the mainland to file the application for a bar licence at the ABC office. Jesse brought it over and helped me fill it in, and we’d ended up making an evening of it, playing songs on the jukebox and drinking cans of beer from the local liquor store – who told me they can’t wait for me to re-open the bar because they’re beyond busy and they can’t keep up with the demand.
“Oh, my God,” Lee says, starting to laugh. “That’s not what I expected at all. Where’s all the pink ruffles and tiara?”
“You really think I’d wear pink?”
She’s grinning at me. “I guess not. But you were wrong about one thing. You look super slutty.”
“I do not.” My mouth drops open. This outfit is far from slutty. It’s powerful and yet pretty. It has ‘not taking shit from anybody’ written all over it.
Not literally. It’s a kid’s party. But it sends the message, or at least I hope it does. And to a certain person.
The top half of the dress is a leather bodice, laced tight at my waist and sides, and so snug at the breasts that they’re practically lifted up to my chin. The skirt is made of a delicate cream cotton that skims my hips and falls gently to my ankles. My hair is down, a leather band – my crown – tied across my brow.
“A Warrior Princess,” Lee says approvingly. “I wish I could be there when you walk into that party.”
“I wish you could be too,” I say. Because I miss her face.
“But that ferry guy – Jesse – is taking you, right?”
“He is.” We’ve hung out a few times over the last week. And when he heard I was going to the party, he offered to drive. He has to leave early, but assured me that there are shuttles running from the hotel to the ferry every half hour, so I can jump on one of those to get home.
There’s a rap at the door, and I grin at my sister. “Speak of the devil. I have to go.”
I grab my bag from the counter then rush to open the door. Jesse is waiting on the step for me. A huge grin pulls at his lips as he takes my outfit in.
“You look amazing. Like that woman on that TV show in the nineties. I’ve seen reruns.”
“You don’t look bad yourself,” I say. “Flynn Ryder, right?”
“You know him?”
“I used to nanny for a little girl a few years ago. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched Tangled .”
I pull the door closed behind me and lock up. Next week, if I hear back from the ABC office, I’ll need to start getting everything ready to open the place back up. I’m still not sure if I’m doing the right thing, but I’ll worry about that tomorrow.
Jesse’s car is an old rusty clunker that apparently belonged to his mom before he bought it off her. I like that it’s unpretentious. Just like him.
“So have you been to a party at the hotel before?” I ask as he drives along the country lanes out of the main town, toward the less populated part of the island, which he tells me all belongs to the Fitzgerald Company.
“Not for years. Or that I can remember,” he says. “Back when Hudson and Autumn’s dad lived here, he used to throw huge parties all the time.”
“What happened to him?” Autumn hasn’t mentioned her dad, even though she’s popped into the bar a few times to say hi in the past week. She wants us to get together for a girls’ night soon. She also says she has some ideas for the bar which sound intriguing.
“He died,” Jesse said. “But by that time he had no money left. Lost the whole island gambling.”
“He lost the island?” I frown. “How much of it did he own?”
“Nearly all of it. His great-great-grandfather won it in a poker game back in 1896. He built the original hotel and renovated the captain’s house where Hudson lives. And for about a hundred years nothing changed. Their dad got married, had six kids here, and then he got into a gambling spiral. His wife left him, he lost the island, and he never really recovered.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Hudson always wanted to buy the place back. He spent years making so much money it was coming out of his ears so he could do it. A couple of years ago it came up for auction and he snapped it up. And here we are.”
I look up, realizing he’s talking about our journey, not Hudson’s. We’ve stopped behind a line of cars entering the gates to the hotel. Town cars, expensive sports cars, and the occasional rusty sedan like Jesse’s, which I assume belong to islanders who are invited to the party.
I take a deep breath, readying myself, because I’m not great in crowds. I’m not great with people at all, really. And one thing’s for sure, I’m really terrible when it comes to the unsmiling, handsome host of this party.
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.