22. Archie
Archie
T he first thing I notice when I walk into the beach house is the slightly fishy smell that I noticed this morning is stronger.
I should’ve taken the sushi sack of garbage out first. But when I walk into the kitchen, the sack is gone.
Piper must’ve taken them out, which makes me feel worse about not doing it myself.
I notice a few other things I could have done, too.
Such as cleaning off the kitchen counters and wiping up the water spots on the floor.
Last night, I thought I’d done a good job, but when I think about how the kitchen looks after the housekeeper’s been here or Piper’s cleaned, I reckon I could’ve done better. I should have done better.
After retrieving my mobile from the table, I shoot Dex a text asking him to ask Stella for Piper’s number. Frankie likely has it, but she’s in the air, and I don’t want to wait for her to land.
Then I get to work cleaning up what I should’ve finished last night. I’m not sure if the job itself or thinking about Piper makes me work up a sweat, but by the time I finish, I need a shower. The kitchen’s scrubbed up alright, and I’m stoked about it.
That feeling is short-lived as my mobile shouts She Who Shall Not Be Ignored and Sybil’s name flashes on the screen. My pulse skips. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I spoke to Dad. If Sybil’s ringing, he isn’t wasting any time putting his plan into motion.
Am I going to roll over and let him? Am I going to let money rule my decisions the way it does Dad’s? Before I’ve made up my mind, I answer the call.
“Hello, Sybil.” I walk barefoot to the patio. The sun is out, and the rough cement is warm under my feet, but I’m cooler out here than inside.
“Hello Archibald. Mr. Forsythe asked me to call you with the travel details for your return home.”
“I haven’t confirmed that I’m coming back. I’d prefer to chat with him first.” I sit in a deep deck chair. A light breeze sends sand dancing across the patio.
“He’s not available right now, but I can deliver any message you need to get to him.” Her business voice grates me like sharp reef rock.
I’m not sure what I’d say to Dad right now if he were the one who’d called, or even what message to leave. I only know that my fight has to be with him. Not Sybil. Not Cynthia. And, for sure, not Piper.
I let out a long breath. “My only message is that I’m taking the full two weeks he promised and he can ring me. Not you. Him. My father.”
Sybil is quiet on the other end. I’ve crossed a line.
I don’t care anymore.
In the looming silence, anger bubbles up like an unexpected belch. “I’m not leaving Monday.”
“Archie,” Sybil says with something close to warmth. “I need to warn you against that.”
I muster up a bit of hope. “When Dad sees my final proposal, he’ll?—”
“—No, he won’t.” The certainty in her voice squelches the last of my hope with a finality that’s equal parts devastating and freeing.
I blink. Clouds part. In the bright sunlight, everything becomes clear and the pieces and thoughts that have been circling come together.
I take a deep breath, finally accepting the reality that’s been in front of me all along.
Dad made up his mind the moment I asked for the chance to prove myself to him.
“Mr. Forsythe has a job and a house waiting here for you.” Sybil’s gentleness doesn’t soothe me, but it does remind me that communicating through her is what Dad wants so he can avoid a battle, then tell himself he’s won a war.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Sybil.” I hang up and stare at my phone.
I have two choices: give up my life here and go back to Aus on Monday before Dad follows through on his threats of cutting me off. Or stay and give up my relationship with Dad while also likely starting a legal battle that will bury me when he sues for the house.
Neither is what I want, but the second would end up hurting Piper, too.
With that worry, I check my mobile to see if Dex has responded with Piper’s number. He hasn’t, which means he’s probably in therapy and may not be able to text for hours, but I’ve only got an hour until noon.
My only option is to go to Valente and wait outside to see if she shows up, even though I’m not in a mental state to eat anything right now. I don’t want her to think I’ve ditched her because I’m angry about this morning. Maybe she saw that in my smile, but a smile can’t fix a broken promise.
I push myself up from the chair at the same time the back door slides open. Frankie stops on the threshold long enough for our eyes to meet before she rushes to me.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” She throws her arms around me.
“Everything.” I scoff and return her hug. Leave it to my sister to recognize, with one look, that something’s wrong. “Do you have Piper’s number? I told her we’d pick her up for lunch,” I say, slightly frantic as I step out of Frankie’s hug.
“Probably. But you’re in no condition to go anywhere. I thought Juan fixed your hair.” She takes her mobile from her purse but keeps her eyes on my hair.
I raise my eyes toward my hair, as if I don’t already know what she’s talking about. “This i s fixed. What’s happened to yours?” I point at the blonde ponytail hanging down her back.
She pulls off her Dodgers hat, and the ponytail comes with it, then she shakes out her natural curls. “Disguise for the airplane, along with sunglasses and sitting in economy.”
“Did it work?”
“Do you see anyone taking pictures?” I shake my head while she scrolls through her mobile. “I don’t have Piper’s number anymore. I lost most of my contacts when Dad cut off my mobile service.”
I ball my hands into fists and curse Dad. His interference in my life goes so deep that the things he’s done to Frankie seem designed to push me in the direction he wants. “My life’s falling apart. The one thing I can do is follow through on my offer to take her to lunch.”
I go inside to the rack near the garage door where the keys to the van hang. Frankie follows behind me and grabs my arm before I can walk into the garage.
“Archie, slow down. Tell me what’s happened, then we can figure out what to do about Piper.”
I stop long enough to glance at her, but I have an urgency to keep moving, as if someone’s set my internal motor to high speed, and I don’t know how to switch it to slow.
There are so many things hanging in the balance, and the only one I can keep from crashing to the floor is doing what I told Piper I would do and pick her up for lunch with Frankie and me.
She looked excited about that, before I got angry over her, trusting me enough to tell me the truth.
“It’s not even noon, yet,” Frankie says, still gripping my arm. “Come sit down, catch your breath, and tell me how I can help.”
I exhale and let her lead me to the couch, where we sit side by side.
“Dad was never going to consider my proposal for Bombora. He’s already purchased my flight back to Brisbane.” My voice cracks.
“He told you that?”
I nod, then shake my head. “Sybil.”
“Same thing.” Frankie gives my shoulder a sympathetic bump, and we both huff a dry laugh.
Then I spill it all. Everything that’s happened between Piper and me and my conversations with Dad and Sybil.
I tell Frankie the options I’m left with, knowing which choice she’ll tell me to take.
She’s already taken it. She’s the reason I understand how hard it will be to walk away from Dad and the only life I know.
When I finish, she tilts her head and forces me to meet her gaze. “Look, the truth is, we got screwed in the Dad department. There’s no two ways about that.”
A laugh escapes. I’m calmer now, but I still can’t return her sad smile.
“But we hit it big in the sibling department.” She holds my gaze until I’m able to actually smile. “The friend department, too.”
I nod. She’s not wrong there. “Mum’s not too bad either.”
“Mum’s amazing.”
“I don’t even mind Piper much anymore, now that she’s grown up,” I say carefully.
“Piper’s always been awesome. You were just in your stuff back then.”
I nod again. Frankie’s not wrong about that either.
“I’ve missed you. Thanks for coming.” This is the first time Frankie’s been back in two years, which is a good sign she feels safe here. “Your hair is shorter.” I tug one of the curls. It’s my job as her brother. “Looks good.”
“Yeah?” She swipes my hand away. “There’s a hairdresser in Serenity Cove who YouTubed videos on how to cut curly hair, but I reckon she did all right.” Frankie scrunches her hair. “And she’s a fraction of the price of Juan.”
“But does she sell stories about you to the highest bidder?” My voice is light, but only because I don’t want to upset Frankie by dwelling too long on painful memories. Juan never sold stories about her, but another stylist at his salon did. He got fired, but the damage had been done.
We can laugh or cry over the bad stuff, and I prefer laughing.
“No, but it’s anything but serene. This week alone, I had to talk down a retiree threatening to key a surfboard over a parking spot, someone lit sage in the bathroom, and—this one’s my personal favorite—I found a seagull in a cardboard box under the sink.
It was labeled Emotional Support Animal.
With glitter gel pen.” Frankie laughs, and I try to picture what she finds so charming about Serenity Cove.
“But, even after a couple years,” she continues. “No one knows or cares who I am. I have all the privacy I want there.”
She smiles as if to assure me, but I know she’s being honest. When she stands and tugs me up, there’s a looseness to it. A chill vibe I haven’t felt from her, even before she walked away from Hollywood.
But as she walks toward the back door, Frankie’s serious. Still relaxed, but she’s got a purpose, and nothing gets in my sister’s way when she wants something. She looks back at me when she gets to the door, her expression all business.
“Okay, time to figure out what to do about Piper. I’m starting to wonder if you not only don’t mind her but also might be a bit keen on her.” She glances over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow and a grin.
My mobile buzzes, saving me from answering Frankie. I take it out and read the text from an unknown number. “It’s Piper,” I say, unable to hold back my smile as I read her apology.
It quickly disappears when I read the next lines.
“What does she say?” Frankie asks.
“She says she can’t do lunch, but also…sorry for sushi in my room?”
I look at Frankie, who closes her eyes and shakes her head. “That would explain the smell inside. You two. No one can hate each other this much without circling all the way back around to falling in love. Ask her if she turned the heat up too. It’s a million degrees in here.”
While Frankie walks to the thermostat, I re-read Piper’s text all the way to the subtext.
Yeah, she’s done something bad to my room, but she’s also apologized for it and wants to talk tonight.
I don’t know what the “talk” means. Shoot the breeze like we’re old friends? Or rehash all our old arguments?
Or—and this would be the best-case scenario—get to know each other?
With the way my life is crumbling today, the last reason is the least likely one, but with the memory of Piper’s smile from this morning still fresh, it’s the one I decide to pin my hopes on, anyway.
And I reckon I know what might make our “talk” the one bright spot in what’s turning out to be a downer of a day.
I message her back before I can talk myself out of my idea.
Would love to talk. I’ll have dinner waiting.