Chapter Four
Present
While Gigi uses the stateroom mirror to reapply her lipstick and Beth checks her phone, I dig my own phone out of my bag to make sure my sister hasn’t texted about the girls.
“We’ll probably lose cell service when we get out to the Strait of Juan de Fuca,” Gigi says. “But we’ll have internet through Starlink the whole way so I can post live feeds of our trip.”
That must be the flat white plate I saw secured near the top of the mast. Seeing I have no new texts, I drop my phone back into my bag.
Gigi lifts her head to the sound of the female voice on the dock. She clasps her hands together. “Finally. Emma’s here.”
Beth returns her phone to her bag and leads the way upstairs. I follow Gigi. Seeing how perfectly toned her thighs are, I wish I had gone on a diet before the trip.
When we reach the cockpit, Captain Nojan is on the radio. I trail Gigi and step onto the deck, seeing Emma on the dock. Adam extends his hand to Emma, but the home renovator shakes her head. Instead, she grabs the shroud.
“I’m good,” she says, using her tanned, muscular arm to pull herself onto the boat.
The last time I saw Emma was in the news last year after a video surfaced online of her at a house she was renovating in Capitol Hill, screaming profanities at one of her contractors before throwing a screwdriver at him.
She was sentenced to community service after pleading guilty to assault.
Not long before the incident, Emma had shared a link in our group text thread to an Architectural Digest article that featured one of her projects—a Seahawks player’s Lake Washington home that Emma had fully renovated and designed.
But after the incident, when I saw the word bitch spray-painted across her face on a billboard on the 405, I wondered about the effect Emma’s volatile outburst has had on her business.
She’s always had a temper, but I was surprised to see that it’s gotten worse as she’s gotten older, not better. Recently a few home-DIY articles featuring Emma popped up on my news feed, so I guess her out-of-control temper hasn’t ruined her career after all.
She looks good, I think. In her cargo pants and ribbed tank top, she’s still the tomboy, and even fitter than she was in high school. With that sweet smile, one would never guess she was capable of such explosive rage.
Emma and I never meshed, but that’s not what causes my unease at seeing the house flipper. I swallow back the guilt that rises in my throat, thinking about the “accident” our senior year that left Emma with a broken ankle.
Emma manages to make Beth look petite next to her. At five foot seven, Beth is the shortest of all of us. Beth’s glossy dark waves are a sharp contrast to Emma’s short blond curls. Emma’s once-thin lips are now unnaturally plump with filler.
I’m suddenly self-conscious of every line on my Botox-free face.
“So good to see you!” Gigi gushes, pushing past Beth to get to Emma first.
Emma scans the deck after Gigi embraces them both. “Where’s Alex? Didn’t he come to see you off?”
“He wanted to, but he had business in Spain.”
“He’s in the restaurant business, right?” Beth asks.
Gigi’s smile fades, and I wonder if Beth guessed the wrong profession on purpose to annoy her.
“Hotels.”
“Oh, right.” Beth nods. “I knew that.”
“Gigi,” the captain calls from behind the wheel at the back of the boat. “I need to speak with you.”
“Okay,” Gigi says over her shoulder. She turns back to Emma. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” Gigi heads toward the helm, leaving Beth and me with Emma beside the boat’s towering mast.
Emma offers me a warm smile, having seemingly accepted my long-standing lie that Bryson and Jake were responsible for her ankle injury, which only makes me feel worse.
“You look well,” Beth says after the three of us exchange awkward hugs.
And well off, I think.
Emma runs a hand through her curls without returning the compliment. “Thanks. I’m so glad I could make it. I wasn’t sure when Gigi first asked me since I just bought a prewar home in Upper Queen Anne that needs to be fully gutted, and I’m in the middle of two other huge renos.”
I slide my hands into the back pockets of my shorts, surprised to hear that Emma is still in high demand after her assault.
“But the couple whose home I am redoing in Magnolia is so high maintenance that I figured a break would be good. Otherwise, I might strangle them.”
Beth lets out a short laugh as I study Emma, wondering if she’s partly serious. I try not to think about the close quarters we’ll all be sharing over the next two weeks.
“And Gigi promised we’d have internet, so I left my site superintendent in charge.”
Emma’s gaze drifts to mine, and I force myself to return her tight smile, remembering how she and Gigi distastefully approached a documentary producer in college, hoping to talk about our notorious rafting trip—saying they wanted to set the record straight on our innocence.
They wanted Beth and me to be a part of it, too, but we refused.
We’d been burned by the media before, and after the trauma we’d endured, we had no desire to insert ourselves back in the limelight.
Courtney’s parents were equally sickened when they were contacted by the film producer and declined to be interviewed. Fortunately, without more willing participants, no film was made.
Emma gestures to Beth. “Congrats on becoming the Elliott Bay University President. The youngest in history, right?”
“That’s right.”
Emma’s gaze travels to mine. “What are you up to these days, Palmer?”
Adam’s deep voice comes from behind me. “Emma, your stateroom is down below. I can show you where.”
I turn, grateful for the interruption.
“Thanks,” Emma says.
She allows Adam to take her bag before she follows him toward the narrow set of stairs.
I turn to Beth after watching Adam disappear below deck. “Does he seem familiar to you?”
“Yep.” Beth finishes what’s left of her champagne. “He looks like Chris Pratt.”
Now that Beth says it, I see the resemblance to the A-list actor in Adam’s muscular build and the hint of auburn in his closely trimmed beard.
“And he’s hot, that’s for sure.” Beth elbows me as a grin spreads across her face. “And there’s no wedding band.”
Before I can answer, Gigi’s voice comes from across the deck. “I don’t care!”
I whip around to find her with arms crossed, glaring at Captain Nojan. Whatever she and the captain are discussing, she does not look happy about it.
The captain glances at Beth and me before returning his attention to Gigi. “I really feel that we should tell the—”
“No.” Gigi shakes her head. “I already told you. It’s fine. End of discussion. We’re all here now, and I want to leave on time.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the captain calls as Gigi strides away, her thin cover-up fluttering in the wind.
“Warn you about what?” I ask when Gigi gets closer.
Gigi smiles, the irritation now wiped clean from her face. I glance behind her at the captain, who regards her with a scowl before starting for the bow.
“It’s nothing.” Gigi swipes a manicured hand through the air.
“He was afraid he hadn’t brought enough vegetarian meal options.
I told him it’s fine since Palmer and I are the only two vegetarians on board, and I plan to be eating light on the trip anyway.
” She turns to her assistant sitting on the bow.
“Hey, Carissa? Can you come here for a sec?”
I follow Gigi’s gaze to the twentysomething girl with a wiry frame who gets to her feet. She’d been so quiet, I hadn’t noticed her there.
“Sure,” Carissa says.
“We need to refold the napkins in the galley before we leave,” Gigi tells her assistant when she reaches us. “They are supposed to look like swans, not sad paper airplanes.”
Carissa’s expression falters, and Gigi lightly touches her arm.
“It’s okay.” Gigi smiles. “I’ll show you the trick to refolding them. It took me awhile to figure it out too.”
“Since when did you turn into Martha Stewart?” Beth asks as Carissa heads below.
Gigi shrugs. “Just want to be a good host.”
Beth lifts her empty champagne flute. “Believe me, you are.”
Gigi starts to follow Carissa, then turns to Beth and me. “If you guys don’t mind, I’ll need some help taking videos since there isn’t room for my assistant to come along. I’m going to need a lot of content for this trip. My sponsor is paying top dollar for me to promote them.”
I lean into Beth as Gigi continues toward the companionway. “You didn’t tell me we’d be filming Gigi the whole time,” I whisper.
“We’ll get Emma to do it.” Beth cracks a smile. “I’m sure she takes a lot of selfies.”
I turn so that my back is to Gigi. “It looked like the captain was telling Gigi something serious. Do you think she was telling the truth about the vegetarian thing?”
Beth squints from the sun as she eyes Gigi before she disappears below deck.
“Nope.”