Chapter 7 #2
be all set. She and Teuta are unloading now. This night will be special. I can feel it. It is in the air. And look, the gods!
They sent you a nice day!”
He waved to the window, the open blue sky.
Danika hummed a little. “Right, well, we did get lucky.”
They stood side by side, staring out the windows into the wash of blue sky and water. The lake was as smooth as a fitted sheet.
Danika wanted to run her hand over it.
“I hope you will enjoy yourself.” He nudged her. “Happy Fourth of July.”
Again, as she looked at him, Danika felt comforted. Again, she thought of her dad. She caught herself and said Happy Fourth
of July. She knew Zami was more patriotic than most. He kept a picture of Bill Clinton in his wallet. She figured she would,
too, if she’d lived Zami’s life. She’d never told him her dad had been deployed to Kosovo with the army. She didn’t feel she
deserved his credit. She didn’t want to talk about him, either.
“Okay, thanks again.” She moved away, explaining she needed to unpack.
As if on cue, as Danika rounded the corner, Bill emerged from the stairs. His hair was wet, and she could see the lines of
his comb through his curls.
“Darling.” He seemed surprised, as if he hadn’t actually expected her to come.
“We made it.” She patted his shoulder before walking past him down the stairs.
From there, things continued smoothly: Danika changed into her white AllSaints dress and YSL wedges. She only wished she had
more time to talk with Teuta before the evening started; she’d only caught her in the hallway briefly.
“You look amazing,” Teuta had said as Danika hugged her three times, alternating each side as was the Albanian custom she’d
learned when she met Zami.
“You look amazing,” Danika had echoed, touching the ends of her long dark hair. “So long.” It was another reminder Danika hadn’t
seen her in months.
“Extensions! You wouldn’t know, right? Even though I tell everyone.” She shuffled the bowl of peaches in her arms. “My girl over at Fiftieth and France is amazing. You should see her sometime. Not that you need it. You’re aging backward.”
Danika tucked her hair behind her ear. It was strange to remember Teuta was two years older than she was; it felt wrong, somehow.
“You flatter me. Do you need help?”
“Please, no, no. You go play host. We have it all set.” Teuta hugged her again before disappearing to the kitchen. Danika
reminded herself then to put the cash out where she’d remember.
If Danika had it her way, Frank and Holly would arrive first; it seemed best to have the core group there before new people.
She hoped Mallory, Malcolm, and their daughter, Gigi, would arrive next. She had already prepared to talk about their hotel’s
new restaurant, which everyone had been gossiping about lately. Holly said the theme was “magical realism,” whatever the hell
that meant.
Still, even if Danika found the Harrisons ridiculous—and even if she was still bitter about Mallory not giving her a chance
at the hotel design all those years ago—she’d play nice. Plus, she sincerely liked their daughter, Gigi. She was mature for
an eight-year-old; one time, at a Club brunch, Danika had spent the whole time talking to Gigi about horses, riding lessons,
her dreams to own an Appaloosa. She’d been in awe at how Gigi returned all her questions, making more polite conversation
than most adults.
Above all, she hoped Joshua Mike and his latest girlfriend, Jackie, would arrive last.
But no matter the order of arrival, Danika was comforted by having Chat there. He and the boys would command the energy and
holiday spirit. As such, she made everyone gather in the front sitting room by two forty-five. And now—as the boys sipped
their lemonades and Danika poured a glass of Sancerre—she felt ready.
Danika leaned back in a rattan chair, exhaling, as she noticed someone round the corner.
At first, she only saw the large silver tray of fruit she’d requested—watermelon and clementines and sliced kiwis—but as she leaned forward, preparing to thank Teuta, she did a double take.
She almost dropped her wine. Because it was not Teuta.
Instead, her.
The girl from the Club.
Danika felt dizzy. She gripped the chair tighter, her knuckles straining white. She watched the girl like a laser, tracing
her every move. Yet as the girl set down the tray, Danika finally came to and whipped around to Chat, who was also staring
at her, surprise and excitement filling his face.
Danika’s anger raced through her. Who the hell was this girl?
Danika had sensed something between the two from the swim meet, and now it felt confirmed.
Thankfully, the shock on Chat’s face was evidence he hadn’t expected to see her, either. She had to be the one after him, tracking him down. Out to insert herself into their lives.
How dare she.
The cabin was her family’s oasis. Chat belonged to her.
“Danika,” she finally heard, the voice far away and then ringing right next to her. She swiveled to Bill as he nodded harshly
toward the window—where, just beyond, the first car was crunching down the driveway.