Chapter 10 HEARTS ON FIRE
HEARTS ON FIRE
The evening rolled around languidly, as they tend to do when you’re on vacation.
In the four-or-so hours prior, I’d sent a couple of emails to Eddie about some of the extremely low-key sports events going on at the cove that I could cover (in case the croquet thing didn’t work out), had helped Rosie tape a wall she’d decided to paint, and had flipped through a magazine while taste-testing some of the cookies piled up on a fancy pink cake stand.
‘Sun’s low!’ shouted Finn, who’d just come in from the beach and was wearing nothing but damp shorts and a towel. This was standard Finn attire. ‘Off your butt, Molly: we’ve got a fire to build.’
‘Just so long as you do the lighting,’ I said. My fire-making prowess extended to a stick lighter and not much beyond. I was rather attached to my eyebrows and had no desire to lose them this evening.
‘You can even stand behind my Adonis-like form,’ teased Finn, striking a pose.
All right, so it was quite Adonis-like. I averted my gaze before he could accuse me of staring. Which, of course, was what he wanted. It wasn’t my fault I had eyes.
Never one to stand on ceremony, Finn pulled me outside, shouting, ‘Bonfire time!’ through his cupped hands, then hurrying over to rap his knuckles on Tiff’s bedroom window and then on the door of Noah’s art studio. Cleo, who’d been napping on the windowsill, yowled.
‘I’m on a work call,’ shouted Mom from her room. ‘Let’s keep the commotion to a dull roar.’
‘Your clients will understand the urgency of the bonfire,’ Finn yelled back. ‘All deadlines can be pushed where bonfire nachos are involved.’
Giggling, the two of us raced down to the beach, where Finn had cleared a spot and stacked up some piles of dry branches and a few bits of wood from the storage shed.
‘Mom’s been talking about redoing the fence,’ he explained, rearranging a few twigs and some wood panels.
‘When she’s done with the light fixtures and the wallpaper, anyway.
She’s like a one-woman home-renovation show.
I swear that like ten furniture catalogues showed up last week. They wouldn’t fit in the mailbox.’
‘She’s definitely on a fixer-upper mission,’ I offered. I couldn’t help but think about the conversation from my beach walk with Mom earlier.
‘Just as long as she doesn’t touch the music room,’ said Finn. There was a moment of vulnerability to the statement, and he realized it. He hurried to deflect. ‘Or Noah’s art studio. He’d wither into a husk if anyone other than Cleo so much as stepped foot in there. Even you.’
Ouch, I must have snagged my new ring on one of the bonfire twigs somehow, because it smarted on my finger. I shook out my hand, waiting for the sharp zap it had given me to dissipate.
‘All right over there?’ asked Finn, pausing from where he’d been unfolding some of the lounge chairs stacked up by the bonfire spot.
‘I caught my ring on something,’ I explained, before flashing him a look at it. He pretended to swoon, apparently aware it was good form to always comment positively on a girl’s accessories. ‘But I still have all my fingers.’
‘That’s lucky, or I’d never be able to teach you to play guitar.’
I snorted. ‘I absolutely cannot imagine you teaching anyone to do anything.’
Finn broke into a wide grin. ‘Slingshot in the sixth grade ringing any bells? Also, lock-picking? Vodka-topping-offing? Roller-skating over the big hill? Golf-cart driving?’
‘That last one never happened,’ I protested.
‘But it could,’ said Finn. ‘Want me to bring it around? It’s about time you learned to drive something. And it’s easy. Go pedal. Stop pedal. Steering wheel. That’s pretty much it.’
I was tempted. The golf cart did look fun. And it moved slowly and was designed to stick to the small backroads, so it wasn’t like actual driving.
But before I could decide one way or the other, the rest of the family spilled out from the Pink House in a cacophony of coolers and rattling tinfoil-wrapped dishes.
‘Fashionably late, but they’re here,’ called Finn good-naturedly.
‘Sorry if some of us had other things to do than suntanning on the beach,’ muttered Noah drily. He unfolded a trestle table and started unpacking food and drinks on it.
‘You’re right, I should know better than to interrupt the maestro.’
‘I was studying, actually,’ said Noah, as he set down the silverware. ‘For my future career. Strange concept, I know.’
I blinked. There was a snippiness to their banter that I wasn’t used to. My ring crackled, catching my attention. I definitely hadn’t snagged it on anything this time. It was responding to something, but what?
‘So, who’s doing the honours?’ called Rosie, wrapping a shawl around herself. ‘It’s starting to get chilly, and I have a mountain of s’mores here.’
‘I can’t believe you’re even asking, Mom. All right, let’s … get lit,’ called Finn. Grabbing a rolled-up newspaper, he snapped his fingers to light it, then held it against the bonfire pyre.
We all took a step back in anticipation of that initial woosh.
The bonfire didn’t disappoint: a collective gasp went up as the dry branches and twigs caught fire and the flames stretched high in the sky, trying to reach the moon.
Tiff grabbed my hand, pulling me back further as she ducked a crackling ember. On her phone, Damien squawked.
‘Did you just catch fire? You’re upside down,’ he said, frowning in concern.
Tiff righted her phone, waving it at the bonfire. ‘We’re all alive. Finn was just showing off his bonfire-lighting prowess.’
‘Right,’ said Damien. ‘Well, I’ve got a good view of some pigeons here.’ He panned his phone to demonstrate the pigeons strutting around the brightly tiled plaza where he was enjoying an espresso.
‘You guys are so weird,’ I said, shaking my head. Weird, but cute. ‘Do you want me to describe the smell of the bonfire for you, Damien? So you can really immerse yourself in the moment?’
‘Ignore her,’ said Tiff, moving over to the other side of the bonfire. ‘That’s what I do.’
I made a face, then set to work helping Rosie and Noah finish setting out our dinner. We all helped ourselves to mountains of food – Finn’s bonfire nachos, giant salads, fire-roasted wursts and kebabs, and of course Mom’s ever-present cheese-and-cracker assortment.
We ate and drank until our stomachs groaned, then kicked back and watched the fire as it ebbed and flowed, casting a glow on the rolling ocean.
A few night-time strollers wandered past, happily accepting the cookies and s’mores that Rosie insisted on gifting them.
Finn looped us all into a game of charades, which we shouted and giggled our way through, giddy on sugar and punch.
After I’d finally managed to get Tiff to guess that I was miming being the Pink Power Ranger – she’d had to get Damien back on FaceTime to help – I slumped down on my striped chair, sipping my drink as I watched the bonfire dance and the moonlight sparkle on the lapping waves.
The air was scented with woodsy smoke, and I could feel the heat of it against my hair and skin.
The others were happily chatting away, Mom ranting about her latest beef with Shauna and Tiff chiming in with client horror stories that had everyone groaning.
Finn had produced his guitar and was strumming impromptu serenades for evening beach-strollers, while Noah had a small Moleskine notebook in hand and was quietly sketching.
He glanced up, catching me watching him, and I smiled, the cider I’d been sipping giving me the confidence to hold his gaze.
He returned the smile, although only just – but that was still plenty where Noah was concerned.
Finn intercepted. Setting down his guitar, he got up to peek over Noah’s shoulder.
‘What’s old Noah doing over here? Molly, it’s you! He’s drawing you!’
Noah slammed his notebook closed.
‘You sly dog.’ Finn grinned. ‘But Molly’s much prettier in real life. Right, Amelia?’
Mom glanced up from her conversation with Rosie and Tiff. ‘What’s that, Finn?’
‘Nothing,’ said Noah. His tone was casual, but I could hear the annoyance in his voice. ‘Finn’s just being a brat.’
‘He’ll do that,’ said Rosie, toasting with her glass. ‘Gets it from Charlie.’
Noah stood. ‘I’m going to head back to the house for a bit. Headache.’
Hmm, two headaches in as many days. And both under similar circumstances.
‘Must be from all that concentrating on our lovely Molly here,’ teased Finn, as Noah made his way over the soft sand and up the steps to the back garden.
‘You’re cruel,’ I muttered, although my heart was light. I knew it was terrible of me, but with the attentions of both the Tucker boys on me, I felt somehow beautiful.
What I would’ve given in that moment to pull Noah’s notebook from his pocket and turn to the page he’d been working on. To see what I looked like through his eyes, and how he’d committed that expression to paper.
‘Is your ring on fire over there?’ asked Finn, grabbing my hand.
He wasn’t far off: my ring was crackling so dramatically that I tried to yank it off.
But it wouldn’t budge.
‘Here.’ Finn wrapped his fingers around mine. I could feel the warm touch of his magic flowing across my skin, and the ring’s magical current subsided.
The bonfire rose and fell in the background, casting shadows across the beach, across the planes of his face.
‘How’s that?’ Finn asked momentarily, and I realized I’d been holding my breath.
Holding my breath because I’d been hoping that he might kiss me.