Chapter 19
Olivia
She couldn’t help the sound that escaped her mouth. The salmon was perfection. First, the salad had teased her taste buds
with its sharp miso-based vinaigrette. Of course, she’d had a bit of the martini Phelps mixed her immediately—too heavy on
the olive juice, but it did help her relax—and now the salmon was slaying her. The creamy, tart dill sauce like velvet in your mouth just as you encountered the buttery flakes of fish.
Whether it was the salmon or the alcohol, she was feeling frankly giddy. She was sitting at the same table as Bennett and
Phelps, and the world had not exploded. Bennett knew, he had already known, and he’d still chosen Olivia. How he knew didn’t
matter—okay, maybe it did matter, but that was a problem for future Olivia—but most importantly, he had forgiven her long
ago, and he and Phelps seemed to be getting along fine. There was no crisis.
Her next bite of salmon, she took with her eyes closed. So good. The weight of the secret was off her. She felt five years
younger. Ten! Everything tasted better. She wanted everyone to feel as good as she felt.
“Hey, did everyone see Will’s viral video?” said Ted, breaking the silence that had followed the serving of the salmon.
“What video?” said Bennett.
Ted got out his phone and held it up toward the group. “It was on the local news . . . I was like, hey, I know that guy!”
His screen was too small for everyone to see, but they all stopped eating and leaned toward it anyway as Ted pressed Play.
The sound was tinny and the image was blurry. Olivia could make out patches of what seemed like Will’s voice.
“. . . you could . . . register right here . . . buy you the bike . . . exit the store . . .”
It seemed to be a situation at the store Will managed? Olivia couldn’t quite make out the details, but good for Will.
“Fifty-thousand views,” said Hellie, admiring.
“Yeah . . .” Will seemed uncomfortable. “I did notice some people were filming.”
“Man, you let him get away?” protested Doug. He bunched his fists on either side of his plate. “Someone tries to take my shit
right in front of my face, I would’ve—”
“He deescalated the situation,” said Bennett. “That was awesome, Will. Way to go.”
“Will is a peacemaker,” said Bunny in a tight, sarcastic voice. “Right, Will? Always making sure everyone gets along.” She
laughed bitterly.
What had gotten into Bunny?
“Um . . .” Will laughed nervously. Thankfully, Phelps intervened.
“And doesn’t the world need more peacemakers? A toast.” They all raised their glasses—wine for most of them, just water for
Doug. “To the peacemakers.”
Bunny only took a tiny sip, without clinking anyone’s glass. But Olivia reached her glass around, and across to Will.
There was another silence as they all picked up their utensils again. The mood had turned quite tense. Olivia rolled her shoulders
and readjusted her hair, trying to recover the nice feelings she’d just been reveling in.
“The food is incredible, Phelps,” said Hellie after a minute.
“Yes,” said Olivia fervently.
“So good,” crooned Bunny.
“Damn. You really should open your own restaurant, man,” said Ted with a brash laugh. He looked straight at Jenn with what
seemed to Olivia like a leer.
“Oooh! That’s a great idea!” said Allie, clapping her hands together, oblivious.
Olivia winced.
When Ted Kristos arrived fifteen minutes before dinner was served, his dark curly hair looking boyish, dressed in jeans, a
Pink Floyd T-shirt and Air Jordans, Olivia wasn’t thrilled to see him. He’d been at the first party, a few more after that,
and definitely the last one, but on the periphery. Even though he’d gone to Marquette with Bennett and the rest of the OG
Four, he wasn’t part of their core friend group. Bennett assured Olivia that in high school Ted was whip-smart and funny as
hell, but the side of Ted she’d seen was kind of nasty. He tended to get way too drunk and make cutting remarks loosely dressed
up as humor.
“That’s in horrible taste,” reproved Hellie. “Someone died in that fire, Ted.”
“What?” said Allie. “Wait . . . did I miss something?”
Another silence.
Bennett was looking at Will, who was studiously not looking at anyone. Jenn’s jaw was tight. Olivia knew, of course, that
Will and Jenn had been investors in the restaurant, just like she and Bennett were. When, six years ago, Bennett had mentioned
that Phelps wanted to buy Rock the Clock, a Michigan City establishment where Bennett and his friends had all hung out as
teenagers, Olivia enthusiastically supported the idea.
“You know most restaurants fail,” Bennett had said. “We’d have to be prepared to lose whatever we put in.”
“Of course I know that,” Olivia said. “But it’s his dream. And he’s your friend. Our friend. We should support him.”
As it turned out, they never had to fork over the cash. The whole thing had fallen apart, as things often seemed to for Phelps. And to be honest, wasn’t that what drew her and Phelps together on that fateful New Year’s Eve? What made her cross the line?
Five years ago, he was in the dumps. The restaurant dream was gone. His marriage had fallen apart. The despair in him called
to the despair in her, and Olivia had made the horrible mistake of oversharing, of opening up a part of her past that not
even Bennett knew about, because she wanted Phelps to see that she hadn’t just coasted through life like they all seemed to
think. She, too, had wreckage. She understood rock bottom.
“It was a tragedy,” Olivia found herself saying out loud to Allie. Then she caught Phelps’s eye and her throat went dry. He
kept looking at her as she spoke. She reached under the table and grabbed Bennett’s hand. Her heart was racing. “It would
have been an incredible restaurant. Bennett and I both believed in it.”
“You know?” said Ted loudly, cheerfully. “It always kind of smelled like arson to me.”
Doug, who had just taken a drink of water, spewed it out. Olivia clutched Bennett’s hand tighter under the table.
“Seriously?” Jenn made a growling sound and slapped her napkin on the table, rattling her silverware and looking daggers at
Ted. “Why is he here?”
Will put a hand on Jenn’s back. “Hey. Let’s—”
“I will not calm down,” she said in a tight voice that could have cut through steel. “Why aren’t you still in jail?”
Olivia’s heart hammered in her chest. She’d never seen Jenn look like—like . . . this.
Ted’s lip curled. His face was boyish in its relaxed state, but right now Olivia could see the devil in the harsh twist of
his mouth. “Good behavior. What’s it to you?”
“Hey, have you guys heard about that new flu thingy in China?” said Bunny with forced cheer, but Jenn cut through.
“You traumatized my children, Ted. You came into my house, my sanctuary, and my kids had to watch while you were dragged away by the police. My oldest daughter cries when she hears a siren, to this day. So I’m sorry if I don’t want to sit across from you and pretend everything is fine between
us.”
“Okay, guys—” said Bennett.
“Why are you here?” Ted said to Jenn in a laughing, mocking voice as he leaned back in his chair. “You hate these people. Anyway, you’re
the one who asked me to burn the place down for you.”
“What?” said Phelps at the same time as Will.
Jenn stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back, her cheeks aflame. Her voice was wobbly. “Why would you say something like
that? You liar! Will and I were investors in that restaurant. We believed in Phelps’s vision. Why would I try to sabotage it?”
“Because you’re a crazy bitch,” said Ted coolly.
There were multiple gasps around the table. Olivia felt a pain in her chest and realized her hand was resting there, just
above the neckline of her dress, her nails digging into her skin.
“Ted,” Olivia said—she couldn’t let him say these awful things about Jenn—but Jenn’s voice rose to a shriek, cutting her off.
“You—”
“Enough,” shouted Phelps, pushing his chair back violently. He stood. The room went dead silent. Doug, whose fork had been
on the way to his plate, froze in midair.
“I—” said Jenn.
“Enough!” boomed Phelps, his fists hitting the table, rattling the plates. All of a sudden he seemed taller to Olivia. His
face was set, his eyes flashing. He pointed at Ted. “You, shut up.” He pointed at Jenn. “You, sit down.”
She sat heavily, as if physically pushed.
Phelps towered over them. “This is my house. My party. For one night, we are all going to get along.” His voice was grimly
instructive. “The restaurant is gone. It has been for five years. And you know what? Old Eddie Duszynski died in that fire.
So let’s not go around flinging accusations of so-and-so burning the place down. It was an accident, and it was ruled an accident. End of story.” He picked up his wineglass, slowly, calmly. Though—was that a tiny tremble in his hand? “Time
for another toast. To Eddie, who owned an incredible diner and made the best goddamn hash browns I’ve ever tasted.” He raised
his glass higher and addressed the ceiling. “Eddie, if you can hear me above the sound of the heavenly harps, cheers to a
life well-lived.”
“We love you, man,” said Doug, lifting his water glass high.
“To Eddie,” everyone murmured.
Hellie yelped as some of her wine spilled. They all drank.
Phelps lowered his glass. “Now we’re going to get back into the party spirit. I’m going to serve the chocolate mousse. We’re
going to reminisce about better times and wax nostalgic and indulge in good feelings. Bennett, I’m tasking you with starting us off on a different topic, like—”
“That new virus!” said Bunny. “Haven’t you guys heard? It was in the—”
“Not that,” said Phelps.
“Star Wars,” said Bennett, rolling up his shirtsleeves and planting his hands on the table, and Olivia had to admire the confident
way her husband was taking the reins. “The Rise of Skywalker, your hottest take, go, and you all better have seen it.”
Some light laughter followed. Jenn was looking down at her plate, but Ted was grinning, like it was no big deal to him to