Chapter Seven #2
Charlie played it up with a cough. “Spatial awareness much appreciated, Knickknack.”
Erica laughed and hugged them both. Nick and Charlie weren’t identical twins, but they were both tall and unbelievably good-looking with red hair and matching Ray-Bans.
I was pretty sure they were in their mid-twenties.
“They’re Jay’s sons, and unequivocally my mother’s favorite grandchildren,” Erica had said with a sigh.
“But I don’t blame her; they’re lovely. Charlie is in medical school at Harvard, and you know Nick is… ”
A professional athlete, one of the rising stars in the NHL—and, as of last month, a Stanley Cup champion.
With the exception of professional tennis and the Olympics, I was only a casual sports fan, but I was no less impressed.
Nick had been drafted his sophomore year at Yale and now played for the New York Rangers.
“Olivia!” Nick didn’t hesitate before wrapping me in a hug. “It’s great to see you, step-cousin.”
“For the record, I coined that term.” Charlie winked at me after his twin and I broke apart, then stuck out his hand for me to shake. “And through trial and error, I know you’re not a hugger.”
“Oh, crap.” Nick’s smile dropped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No, no!” I felt myself flush. Charlie had hugged me hello a couple years ago at his aunt’s New Year’s Eve party, and I hadn’t been expecting it, so I’d flinched and the vibe had been really awkward. “You give amazing hugs,” I reassured Nick.
“Yes, doesn’t he?” Peggy joined us on the deck, and offered everyone a glass of lemonade from the wicker tray she held. “Would you mind unpacking their car?” she asked her grandsons. “I want them to relax and enjoy this beautiful late afternoon.”
In response, Charlie dutifully saluted his grandmother; Nick snorted and wrangled his twin into a headlock as they headed off for the garage.
Okay, maybe they were boys.
But boys who took their chores seriously!
They had the Expedition unloaded in ten minutes, and I told myself it wasn’t embarrassing how much stuff I’d brought—it was obvious which suitcase(s) were mine.
For my high school graduation last year, Erica and my dad had given me an entire luggage set.
It was white with camel-colored leather and my monogrammed initials: OBL, for Olivia Brooke Lupo.
Brooke was my mom.
“I know how much you loved Annie James’s luggage in The Parent Trap when you were young!” Erica had said. “Isn’t it perfect?”
Yeah, I thought. Perfect to send me on my way…
Although I couldn’t deny that the luggage was stunning. My grandmother had agreed when I’d shown her photos. “Perfect for an adventure!” Annie smiled. “Bon voyage, my darling…”
Peggy showed me to my room, on the first floor of the east wing. SUMMER CAMP, a hand-painted sign on the door read, which made my spine straighten. Summer Camp, as in Annie’s summer camp? Had the tractor photo been taken here?
I flushed a little, feeling silly for imagining a tractor in the garage outside. The building wasn’t that big.
To my surprise, the door opened not to a bedroom, but a small square-shaped landing with wood-paneled walls.
“Topper and I renovated after our first two grandchildren were born,” Peggy explained.
“Instead of singular bedrooms, we wanted to create nooks to allow each family some privacy.” She shook her head.
“And it’s a good thing we did; Beth and Ashley loved to bicker… ”
I laughed politely. Erica and my dad were getting the twins settled in the opposite side of the house, so it looked like I’d be escaping Maisie’s snoring and Bryce talking in his sleep.
But there hadn’t been a room closer to them?
“Who’s staying in here?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t be weird.
“Connor,” Peggy answered. “I’m sure Erica mentioned him.”
Connor? I tried to connect the dots. Had Erica told me about him? Was he one of Ashley’s kids? Or someone else’s son? I didn’t ask for any clarification, lest Peggy be offended I’d forgotten one of her grandchildren.
There were three doors off the hallway; Peggy gestured to the one on the right, then left me to it.
The bedroom was cozy, with white shiplap walls and a green-and-cream striped rug overtop the knotty wood floor.
A bunkbed had been built into the wall, against the slanted ceiling, and I was happy to see a copper wall sconce for late-night reading.
Across the room, a vintage boat-in-a-bottle sat on an antique teak dresser, and I had no idea how I was going to fit everything into the narrow-looking closet.
The room was neat, but it also looked lived-in; a windbreaker hung from one of the multiple hooks on the wall, along with a baseball cap. Had someone forgotten them?
Before unzipping my suitcase, I closed my door to call Annie.
She hadn’t known me when I visited yesterday, not understanding that the tears in my teary goodbye were because I was going to miss her so much.
Unfortunately, my call to Elkins almost immediately dropped; I checked my service to see that I only had one bar.
Crap. My palms started to sweat. Erica had mentioned something about spotty service on the drive here. But the Wi-Fi was reliable…
Multiple networks appeared when I investigated. XfinityWIFI, Sage’s iPhone, DIRECT-9B-HP OfficeJet 4650, Let’s Get Routy, and what was most likely the general router: Camp Carmichael.
Of course it was locked; I suspected the password was posted for us on the kitchen’s fridge or something. I’d figure that out—
A text from my dad suddenly popped up onscreen: Wi-Fi PW is top+peg4ever, FYI.
An ode to the big anniversary, I surmised.
Thank you! I replied, then successfully connected to the internet and enabled my Wi-Fi calling.
Annie didn’t answer her room’s landline, but Tara picked up on the third ring when I called Finlay’s front desk.
She told me that Annie was in the atrium, sitting at the puzzling table with a few housemates.
“I’ll go get her if you like,” she said, “but it’s been a nice stretch—”
“Oh, no, I understand,” I cut her off. “I’ll call back later.”
The more Annie’s dementia worsened, the less social she’d become. If she was willingly hanging out at Finlay’s rally point? That was a big deal, and I didn’t want to interrupt.
We hung up after Tara made a note about a post-breakfast call tomorrow, and I rubbed my stinging eyes before any tears could spill.
Then I bristled at a knock on my door.
“Hello?” I said over the lump in my throat. It sounded like a question.
“Hi,” the person on the other side said. A guy. “Olivia?”
“Yes.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Connor?”
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” he said. “But Teddy and Finn and I just got back from the beach, and I wanted to introduce myself.”
Right, those were their names! Beth’s daughter Ashley has two sons, I remembered Erica telling me. Teddy and Finn are around the twins’ age…
“You can come in,” I told Connor, realizing he was waiting for an invitation. I tried to make a joke. “I’m decent!”
Connor chuckled, his laugh cool and full-bodied and a little bit boyish. “Took you long enough,” he quipped before twisting the doorknob.
Based on the Carmichael family genes, I was not surprised by the handsome guy standing in the doorway.
But for some reason my pulse quickened, sort of caught off guard.
Six-two or six-three, Connor was tall and thin with some shade of strawberry blond hair and startlingly pale blue eyes.
Something sparked in them when we made eye contact, and I caught a muscle in his sharp jaw twitch.
“Olivia?” he said again, a lock of hair falling over his forehead when he cocked his head. He was quick to smooth it back.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, smiling brightly and sticking out a hand at the same time Connor opened his arms to seemingly go in for a hug. Interesting—everyone here seemed to be a hugger. And despite what Charlie thought, I wasn’t not a hugger, but…
Connor recovered easily, one arm reaching to casually scratch the back of his neck while the other swooped in to take my hand. I could feel the calluses on his palm as we shook. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he said, adding after a beat, “I’m Connor McCallister.”
Wait, what? I thought.
Because while Connor McCallister rolled off the tongue, it certainly didn’t sound like Connor Carmichael.
“Okay, who do you belong to?” I asked, confusion overwhelming my manners. “Does Erica have another sister? Because I know Beth’s married name is Krause.”
One side of Connor’s mouth tipped up in a smile. “You think I’m a Carmichael?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”
“Not even a little bit.” He shook his head. “But you’re not the first to think so.” He grinned and ran a hand through his fair hair, which was lighter but still similar-ish to Nick and Charlie’s. “The twenty-fifth, maybe.”
“At least I’m not the only one.”
Connor good-naturedly rolled his eyes. “I’m hanging out with Teddy and Finn this summer,” he explained. “Beth’s grandsons. Her daughter Ashley is a family friend.” He paused. “And, as Teddy will most definitely tell you later, also my tenth-grade math teacher.”
I smirked. “You’re a manny.”
“Yes.” He straightened his already confident shoulders and smiled. “Thank you—I’m a manny. My brother Liam won’t shut up about me being a babysitter. Do I seem like someone who reads bedtime stories?”
“I don’t know.” I fought a smile to pull off a shrug. “I don’t know you yet.”
Though something about him was starting to seem a little familiar. His eyes maybe?
“Fair enough,” he said. “You game for an icebreaker?”
“Sure.”
“Do you like being on top?”
Heat burst on the back of my neck. Excuse me?
“I’ve been sleeping on the bottom.” He gestured to the bunkbed. “But if ladders aren’t your thing—”
“Okay, wait,” I interrupted, mind now whirring. “I thought this was my room.”
“It is.” Connor nodded emphatically before his eyes darted over to the windbreaker that hung under our porthole window.
Fuck, I thought, realizing that if I opened all six dresser drawers, chances were only three would be empty. And half the small closet would be full.
“What about the two other doors in the hall?” I asked. “Doesn’t one of them lead to another bedroom?”
Connor shook his head. “No, it’s the bathroom and then we have a little porch off the side of the house.”
I swallowed, not knowing what to say. Sharing a bathroom was one thing, but breathing the same air in a bunk room with a stranger was different. Why hadn’t I been given a heads up?
Did Erica know about this? Did my dad? I guess the Carmichaels were less conventional than I thought (not that they’d ever paid much mental rent), and while my dad had been far from oblivious about senior beach week last spring, I highly doubted that—
“I don’t find it weird if you don’t find it weird,” Connor murmured.
Are you an axe murderer? I wanted to ask at the same time he said, “I promise I’m not an axe murderer.”
We both laughed before Connor motioned to the bunkbed again. “Take your pick,” he said. “Really.”
“Oh, um…” I wanted the top bunk, but knew I should steal the bottom from him, especially if he wasn’t a dog person. “The top’s great.”
“Cool. I’ll let you start unpacking…” He trailed off to assess my spending-the-summer-in-Europe-sized suitcase.
“It was a graduation present,” I said. “Erica picked it out.”
“The Parent Trap, right?” he guessed, fondness in his voice.
“You’ve seen it?”
“Of course.” Connor nodded. “It’s one of my brother’s favorite movies. My mom bought him a yellow duffel bag when he was nervous for his first sleepover, to give him some Hallie Parker chutzpah.”
“That’s really thoughtful,” I said, doubting my Annie James luggage set went that deep. If it wasn’t a message to move out, maybe it was a suggestion to study abroad? Who knew.
A sudden ping made me blink. “Speak of the devil,” Connor said after digging his phone out of his pocket.
He flashed his screen long enough for me to see a FaceTime request from Liam.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck in here with me,” he said before leaving, blue eyes holding mine.
I definitely recognized them, but from where?
“I know you probably wish you were with your family.”
I almost nodded. Because while I enjoyed my privacy, this nook felt really far away from the rest of the house. Peggy and I hadn’t passed any other bedrooms on the way here.
Plus, I was sharing a room with someone I didn’t even know. Someone who probably wanted some personal space too, since he wasn’t part of the Carmichael family either.
“It’s okay,” I told Connor. “Maisie snores.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” he replied. “I got my tonsils and adenoids out in elementary school, so I don’t snore, and as far as I know, I also don’t sleep-talk or sleepwalk.”
“I’ll be the final judge of that,” I half-joked. “See you later?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned. “I’ll see you later, Olivia Lupo.”
Huh, I thought once he was gone. Did I tell him my last name?
Maybe he’d asked someone.