Chapter 22
AFTER SCHOOL ON TUESDAY, THE SEVEN OF US rendezvoused at Hamburger Hill.
Henry, Griff, Ellie, Kenzie, Mia, Jared, and I slid into our favorite booth.
“Okay, I called you all here…” I said, our usual order already placed.
Everyone except Henry leaned forward when I took a deep breath. “Because I need your help.”
“With tonight’s guests?” Ellie guessed, and I felt something in me twist. I’d asked her in English why she hadn’t mentioned dumping Chase, and she curtly said, “You didn’t ask.”
I can’t read your mind! I’d almost said, but a sudden sneeze had saved me.
“No,” I said now, shaking my head. “Ruth and Eileen aren’t due to arrive until five. I left Fair Winds’—I mean, Fair Winds II’s—key in the lockbox for them.”
“Hold up,” Jared said. “What’s Fair Winds II?”
Blood started pumping in my ears, and before I could break the news, Griff grinned. “Fair Winds II is the original Fair Winds,” he enlightened the table. “Audrey and Chen renamed it.”
Mia raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because,” Griff began excitedly, “Audrey is renting out her house. And since it’s bigger and better, it should be the first Fair Winds.”
No one said anything, but everyone looked at me.
I nervously sucked down some milkshake.
“Are you serious?” Kenzie asked. “You really want to rent out your house?”
“She doesn’t want to,” Henry said, shooting me some side-eye. “She did.”
Ellie covered her face with her hands. “Audrey…”
I winced. What the hell had I been thinking last night? A college reunion after-party? I might as well light my house on fire myself! And offering to all but plan it? Yes, it had sounded fun, but when Joel emailed me the to-do list…
Henry had been pretty pissed when I forwarded him the email, which he made clear over the phone later. “Why didn’t you call me?” was how he greeted me.
My voice jumped an octave. “You were busy!”
At Ellie’s house.
“But it’s you, Audrey,” he said, dead set and determined. “I would’ve answered, because I will always pick up the phone when it’s you.”
Those words had hit me hard but soft in the chest. It’s you, Audrey.
Henry hadn’t told me he loved me yet, but wasn’t this basically the same thing?
God, I felt terrible. Mint chip ice cream and milk now started to sour in my stomach.
“How much are they paying you?” Mia asked cautiously. “A lot?”
The juniors’ eyes bulged when I named the price. Even Ellie remarked it was incredible. “You’re actually going to be able to do it,” she said. “Your parents are never going to know.”
And they might even be proud of me, I hoped. When I tell them I can pay for Blue Ridge myself…
They had to let me go then… right?
Griff popped three fries in his mouth. “Are we allowed to attend the party?”
“Jesus, Keeler.” Henry shook his head. “You never cease to amaze.”
“Not only do we want you to attend the party,” I added as I pinched Henry’s arm, “but we also want you to work it.”
Cue the collective: “Huh?”
“Audrey has been asked to coordinate the party,” Henry explained. “But it’s a much bigger deal than pitched, so it’s all hands on deck for this one.”
Jared cleared his throat. “Why us?”
“Because you’re trained cater-waiters,” I said with a smile. “Service industry professionals!”
“You’re also members of the Circle of Trust,” Henry said, a flattering reminder that they’d offered to help with anything and everything when they signed our NDA. “Avengers assemble!”
“And I’m going to pay everyone,” I told them.
It was an empowering enough pitch that Mia, Kenzie, and Jared echoed Griff when he nodded and declared that he was in. Ellie hesitated.
“Ellie?” Henry prompted.
I need you, I tried to telepath to her. I know you might be mad at me, or not even like me very much, but Henry and I need your help. You’re the only other person with true leadership skills at this table.
Griff could hype up a football team, but Ellie was captain of the Constellation cater-waiters. And, no offense to Griff, but whenever Ellie helped prep Fair Winds for its next guests, she was far more effective.
Finally, she looked at me. “Tell us what to do.”
I grinned, my heart flooded with relief. “Okay, let me pull up the email.”
Mia unlocked her phone and volunteered to take notes.
Henry snapped his fingers. “I like the way you think, Mia.”
She blushed, and an hour and a second round of chili fries (Griff) later, we had a plan of attack.
Invitations: Lana was going to send them herself, via Paperless Post.
Decorations: Kenzie called dibs. The “Old-Fashioned Kegger” theme had apparently generated a million ideas.
Food: Ironically, Lana had placed a huge order with Constellation Catering, but thankfully Ellie’s mom didn’t oversee that side of the business.
“How are we going to get it, though?” Mia had asked.
“Employees will recognize us if we pick it up, and wouldn’t it be suspicious if it’s delivered to Audrey’s house? ”
Henry volunteered his improv friends, also NDA-signing Circle of Trust members, to handle pickup duties. Alec agreed via text.
Alcohol: Joel had ordered kegs to be delivered. “Won’t they card you?” Kenzie worried, and I tried to pull off a confident shrug. “I have a fake ID,” I said.
“Another drink could be fun too,” Ellie said. “Especially since some people don’t like beer.” She made a yuck face, and I noticed Henry’s laugh above everyone else’s. “Wine doesn’t work with the theme, but—”
“Jungle juice!” I blurted. “Jungle juice, or some type of punch”—I thought of all the college movies Henry and I’d seen—“in a trash can.”
Griff clapped. “Hell yes!”
I said I’d get those ingredients.
Music: Lana and Joel couldn’t decide between a band or a DJ (good luck with wedding planning). The only thing they were set on was they didn’t want an aux cord or Bluetooth speaker. “Isn’t Cam teaching himself to DJ?” Ellie asked Henry, who nodded but said, “He isn’t even passable yet.”
We were stumped until Griff remembered that his cousin was in a cover band.
He lived a couple of towns over and played some local open mic nights and parties.
Griff insisted he would handle it. “I’ve got it, Audrey,” he reassured me when I looked worried.
“I’ll even get him to sign one of Chen’s little NDAs. ”
That was the end of the co-secretaries’ list, but Henry had some amendments to discuss.
“They’ll most likely be using the pool,” he said, “so we need a lifeguard for multiple reasons.” He looked pointedly at Griff, who lifeguarded at Essex Harbor’s country club when he wasn’t cater-waitering in the summer. “Preferably two lifeguards.”
Griff nodded. “I’ll ask Kaitlyn and Mateo. They’re chill.”
Great, I thought, smiling nervously. I hope they’re super chill.
I wasn’t thrilled about telling more people about Here-to-Stay.
“Thanks, Keeler,” Henry said. “I think we should also have a valet stand. I’m sure there will be a steady stream of Ubers and Lyfts, but we still want there to be traffic supervision.”
When no one offered, he assigned the job to his improv buddies.
“We also need a security detail!” I announced, since the need for a valet signaled a lot of guests. It meant telling more people about my top-secret operation, but I knew my gut was right when Henry enthusiastically squeezed my knee under the table.
“Would Jason be interested?” I asked Griff, then glanced at Henry. “Maybe some of the other football players you tutor?”
“Oh yeah.” Griff nodded, with Henry echoing him. “Maybe not for free, but—”
“Don’t worry, they’ll be paid, like you,” I interrupted. “You guys are the Command strips that are going to hold this house together.”
“What a thoughtful analogy,” Henry said, smirking as the table laughed.
“Do you think it’s going to work?” I asked Henry when the rest of the crew finally took off, leaving just me and him with our cheeseburgers.
He chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of Coke. “It’s a lot of moving parts,” he said, “but I think we’ve covered all the bases.” He paused. “Personally, I think the party is the simple part.”
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the next day is going to be rough. You’re going to need to get all these hungover people out of your house and then clean it before your parents get back in the afternoon.”
I groaned. The thought had crossed my mind, but after these past few weeks, we had deep-cleaning down to a well-choreographed dance.
It was the hungover partygoers who were unpredictable.
I had told myself that checkout was at noon, so one way or another, they would be gone by then, while my parents’ plane would still be in the air.
Maybe I should’ve thought that through.
“Cheer up,” Henry said with a faux smile. “Enjoy your burger!”
I pushed my plate away, no longer in the mood for it.
WHEN I PULLED INTO THE DRIVEWAY AROUND six-thirty, Ruth and Eileen were sitting on the front balcony, enjoying a bottle of wine and a cheese plate.
I knew they had dinner reservations in town later.
“We love this place!” they called, while I smiled and waved.
Normally I would’ve gone over to say hello, but I didn’t have time for chitchat.
I had to call my mom.
“Audrey, hello,” she said upon answering the phone. “This is a surprise!”
“That I called?” I wondered if she was tipsy.
She laughed and dodged the question.
“What are you sipping?” I asked.
“The hotel’s signature cocktail,” she said. “It’s called Walk the Plank.”
I gulped. She and my dad were spending the final days of their vacation in Paris. If I don’t pull this off, I thought, she’s going to make me walk the plank.
Or, more likely, push me off.
“… sweet vermouth and tonic,” she finished.
“Oh, that sounds nice,” I said, fiddling with my seat belt. I was still sitting in Brigitta and hadn’t even unbuckled it. “May I talk to you for a minute?”
“We’re talking right now,” she pointed out.
That made me giggle and lightened the mood a little.
“I meant that I need to tell you something.” I shifted in my seat, nervous but knowing I needed to test the waters.
“I’m fine,” I prefaced. “Nothing is wrong, but I was upstairs in the carriage house the other day—to flush the toilet and stuff—and I”—my eyes squeezed shut—“accidentally knocked over the biscuit tin.”
My mom was quiet for a moment, then, “Why did you touch the biscuit tin?”
“Because we’re out of Moroccan Mint tea,” I said. It wasn’t actually a lie; we had run out of my favorite tea. “I was hoping there were a couple of bags in the tin.”
“How bad is the dent?”
I mumbled something about a corner, that the tin was now off balance.
What I wanted to gauge was how upset she’d be—a mild preview of what to expect when she came home and inevitably noticed the stolen belongings.
Because the only reply I’d received was from Brian, who said: That’s too bad, Audrey.
We admittedly took a few matchbooks from the fishbowl (we’d been to the restaurants), but wouldn’t touch personal items. Let us know if we can help.
We still feel terrible about the brownies!
I’d rolled my eyes; the fishbowl was a personal item! My mom had collected most of those matchbooks with my grandfather when she was a teenager.
Mark my words: I was going to hide every single valuable before the Fairfield alumni after-party on Saturday.
“How could you let that happen?” my mother said. Her voice was level, but she was undeniably upset. “You know that tin was part of my grandmother’s tea set.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I’m really sorry.”
She was going to go ballistic once she realized her Italian pitcher was a Pottery Barn imposter. I needed to get some nail polish remover to remove the sticker residue on the bottom.
After a heavy sigh, she handed the phone to my dad.
“The tin?” he said. “Really? Kiddo, you’re not usually such a klutz…
” His voice drifted out, then returned as a murmur.
My guess was he’d walked away from the hotel bar so my mom didn’t overhear.
“Why did you tell her now? Why not wait until we’re home? ”
My face warmed. “I didn’t want her to think I was hiding it.” This was going to be such a mess. Why hadn’t I just hidden all the valuables before Sandy and Ron’s inaugural stay?
“I’ll talk to you later, Dad,” I said. “I have a lot of homework—wait, one more thing.”
At the thought of them coming home, an idea had sparked.
“Yes?”
“The house is looking pretty dusty,” I told him, thinking about the potential damage from the Fairfield party. “Can I call Merry Maids? Surprise Mom with a nice clean house?”
The line was silent as my dad considered. He knew there were few things that relaxed Monica Barbour more than a spotless, shiny house. “Ah, what the heck?” he said. “Go for it. Put it on your credit card.”
Yes! I grinned. Victory!
Five minutes later, the cleaning service was booked for Sunday morning.
Postparty.