Chapter 13
Thirteen
We agreed to visit the Flying Horses, the world’s oldest carousel, on Friday. Today was the Fourth of July, so Nick advised us not to go near the center of Oak Bluffs. It would be swarmed with people.
Tomorrow it was.
Instead, I spent the day on the beach and spoke to Annie before getting ready for the Foxes’ party.
She told me she was watching reruns of her favorite HGTV show, Love It or List It, and insisted that she and Pops had lived down the street from the house being showcased. It was in Durham, North Carolina.
My grandparents had only lived in New York and Pennsylvania, never North Carolina, but I listened as Annie told me about the elaborate treehouse the owners had built for their children.
It was identical to the treehouse Pops had built for my dad.
I liked hearing her paint the picture, even if it was out of context. It was still pretty.
Per Erica, her parents used to host Oyster Pond’s Independence Day festivities, but after Topper had lost a bet with Meredith’s grandfather a handful of years ago, the Foxes had pocketed hosting rights.
Assuming the dress code was patriotic, I zipped up a white linen shift dress.
“You’re missing a couple colors,” Connor commented after I posted my mirror selfie to my Instagram.
People had loved my beach look the other day.
I pointed to my lips, which were red.
“Okay, a color,” he corrected, running a comb through his hair. “Where’s the blue?”
“Where’s the white?” I countered, assessing his outfit. Nantucket red shorts, a pair of Allbirds, and a navy blue polo that showed off his biceps.
That was hard to ignore.
“Right here.” He pulled sunglasses out of his pocket. Not his usual Oakleys, but a pair of white Ray-Bans. “What do you think?”
I offered my honest opinion by wrinkling my nose.
“Really?” He proceeded to put them on. “Why not?”
“They’re just…” I couldn’t find the right word. “A lot.”
Connor chuckled. “I stole them from Liam.”
“And I’m sure they look great on Liam,” I said carefully. From the way Connor talked about his brother, and the recon I did of Liam McCallister’s Instagram, it was clear he had style. “Maybe you should mail them home.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you driving or taking the boat?”
“Driving,” Connor said, looking ridiculous. “You?”
“Boat,” I told him. “I can’t risk being associated with you and those glasses.”
And with that, I put on my own sunglasses and rushed out of the room, holding in my laugh until I was out in the hall and Connor couldn’t hear it.
* * *
The Carmichaels’ Boston Whaler was so packed that Maisie sat on my lap, and I was slightly worried we were testing the weight limit. “What’s the Foxes’ house like?” I asked Luke and Charlie once a seventh person climbed in, hoping to distract myself.
“Which house?” Luke answered as he draped his arm around Charlie’s neck. He’d returned from Boston late last night, his confidential case under control.
My eyebrows knitted together. “There’s more than one house?”
“There’s eight,” Maisie spoke up. “Oliver Epstein-Fox told me on the beach.” She paused. “He also asked me out today.”
“Eight?”
“The property is called Paqua Farm,” Luke added. “The Farm for short.”
“The Farm,” Maisie repeated. “Are there horses and cows and stuff?”
“It’s not a working farm,” Luke said. “Although Wit told me they had sheep back in the day, and there still are a couple barns standing.”
“Two.” Charlie nodded, lowering his voice. “Legend has it that Meredith’s grandfather and his brother burned the third one down in their twenties. Fireworks show gone wrong.” He winked. “Their parents were so angry that they gave the Fourth of July to our family.”
“Ooh and now they’ve got it back,” Maisie said, intrigued.
“Smells like redemption!” I teased.
Charlie groaned. “Granddad never should’ve made that bet…”
We clung to each other once Nick powered up the speedboat, but instead of gunning it, he took things slow and steady across the pond. I felt Maisie’s muscles relax.
“Did you agree to go out with Oliver?” I whispered in her ear.
“No,” she whispered back. “But I told him I was flattered.”
I let out a low whistle. Way to shoot your shot, kid.
“Are you going out with Connor?” Maisie asked.
“Excuse me?” I bristled.
“Teddy says he’s in love with you.”
Yikes.
“I wouldn’t say in love,” I mumbled.
“But you do think he likes you, right?”
I kept my lips zipped.
My sister elbowed me.
“Connor is just a friend, Maze,” I said, heat flaming on the back of my neck—worried that Luke and Charlie could hear us. “He’s not my type.”
“Right…” Maisie rolled her eyes. “You like dorks.”
With Erica policing the twins’ language, dork, in Maisie-speak, translated to douche.
She wasn’t right, but she also wasn’t wrong. “Oh, he’s a douche,” was almost always my official reason for breaking off things with a guy, even if it wasn’t totally true. I couldn’t explain why, but I knew it needed to end when knots tangled themselves in the pit of my stomach.
“Hey,” Charlie said, oblivious to our code. “No one is more lovable than a dork!”
“Were you a dork?” Maisie asked, not at all embarrassed.
Her cousin gave her a look. “Of course not.”
“That would be my department,” Luke said smoothly. “Though I prefer the term nerd.”
Maisie giggled. “What’s the dif—”
“Land ho!” Captain Nick called, and after disembarking our water taxi, our crew climbed a creaky driftwood staircase that deposited us at the party’s edge.
“Wow,” Maisie breathed. “This is awesome.”
“You can say that again…” My heart skipping, I didn’t know where to look first; everything was a sight to behold.
There was a sprawling cedar-shingled ranch house overlooking Oyster Pond and the ocean and horizon beyond it.
An upbeat band jammed on the house’s low deck, and I marveled at the huge American flag spread across the roof.
Maisie tugged me across the lawn, dotted with partygoers.
Some were playing cornhole, others badminton, and there were picnic tables and circles of Adirondack chairs.
I spotted Peggy, who’d driven over earlier, by the serpentine buffet.
She had baked the Barefoot Contessa’s classic American-flag cake for the party.
Nearby, Erica had set up her tripod. Only if you have everyone sign a release form, I imagined Beth sniping.
“Mom!” Maisie waved.
After Bryce appeared out of nowhere and just as quickly ran off with Maisie, I got a drink at the bar—there was a specialty mocktail with glitter in it—and took a huge lap, wrestling over what to do.
My dad stood with a group of other dad-looking men in the gravel driveway, admiring an orange car with white racing stripes on its hood.
“It’s a 1973 International Scout Harvester,” a handsome Black guy said, an adorable toddler sitting on his shoulders. “I found it…”
I eventually located the twins with Teddy, Finn, and a bunch of other kids. Someone had built a massive obstacle course. “Go, Claire!” Maisie cheered as a girl with a long auburn ponytail army-crawled under some netting.
Claire? I wondered. Claire Dupré?
One glance at Finn gave me my answer. He was waiting at the finish line with flushed cheeks…or maybe he was out of breath from his obstacle course run.
I smiled when they high-fived, before the rest of the Farm caught my eye.
It was a seemingly boundless meadow, with tall green grass, yellow flowers, and a web of sandy trails running through it.
There were tall trees that looked permanently whipped by the wind and another blue pond in the distance.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” someone said, and I turned to see an older gentleman standing behind me. He smiled and sipped a glass of wine, and the rings around his eyes—
Holy crap! I realized. It was the man who’d all but rescued me at the Jaws Bridge.
“It’s beautiful!” I said quickly, a little embarrassed. “Breathtaking.”
“I quite agree.” He stood beside me, and together we gazed at the Farm. “Even after decades and decades, the view never gets old.”
Even after decades and decades…
My ears perked up. “You’ve been here before?”
“Many times.” He nodded, then pointed to the far pond. “My will stipulates that my ashes be spread on that shoreline. I have my coffee and read the Gazette there almost every morning.”
Too much information, I thought, but I didn’t really mind.
“Are you Meredith’s grandfather?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Oh, no. My brother Andrew has that highly esteemed honor.” He gestured across the lawn, where an old man sat behind an easel, seemingly painting something.
Wait. I recognized his aviators. Is that the Jaws Bridge artist?
“Was Andrew at the bridge the other day too?” I asked. “Sketching on the boulders?”
“Yes, he finds the jumpers a dynamic subject.” His brother nodded, then he offered me a hand to shake. “Christian Fox.”
“Olivia,” I said. “Lupo.”
“What brings you to the Vineyard, Olivia Lupo?” Christian asked.
“A family reunion,” I answered. “Topper and Peggy’s wedding anniversary.”
Christian tilted his head. “You’re a Carmichael?”
Carmichael-adjacent, I supposed, but left it at a cheerful, “Mmm.”
I wasn’t in the mood to explain the connection, that I was technically an interloper.
“Did you really burn down a barn?” I asked a couple seconds later, sounding like Maisie.
Something flashed in Christian’s eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Hey, Grumps!” someone shouted before I could respond, loud enough that Christian and I turned to see a teenage boy with his hands cupped around his mouth. I wondered if he was aware of the curly-haired girl sneaking up behind him. “Meredith’s—no! I hate you, Hannah!”
Christian sucked in an audible breath as the girl doused the boy with a bucket of water, dumping it right over his head. “That’s Ty, my youngest grandson,” he told me once Ty took off after Hannah. “He sadly was just assassinated.”
“Never would’ve guessed,” I said drily.