Chapter Twenty
Somehow, without Lark’s knowledge or consent, Joy was throwing a party for all the Santinis and all the Smiths. Even Henry’s mother was going to come. With her falcon.
Lark was still trying to wrap her head around it. But here it was, Saturday, and the caterers were already dropping off giant foil tins of food.
“I’m so happy!” Joy cooed. “You know, Paulie was always the one who organized things when we lived in New York, but I’m really enjoying myself.”
“Great,” Lark said. “That’s…yeah.”
“Will the handsome firefighter be coming? Dante?”
“I don’t know,” Lark said. She’d worked six shifts in five days, gone to Boston for a lecture from an oncologist at the Mayo Clinic and driven back the same night and spent four hours with a hospice patient. She’d only found out about the picnic via an all-caps text from Lorenzo Thursday night.
WHY IS YOUR FAMILY HOSTING A PARTY FOR MY FAMILY? RESPOND IMMEDIATELY.
The thought of seeing Dante again was both distressing and (she couldn’t lie) exhilarating. He was so stinking funny and gorgeous and kind, and a great brother. He loved his family. His arms were like something sculpted by Michelangelo, and his lips…
Yeah. Her brain was essentially in a blender at the moment.
But the party was happening, as evidenced by all this food. Mac and cheese, pulled-pork sandwiches, salads, deviled eggs, a complete New England clambake, shucked-on-the-spot Wellfleet oysters.
“Whose idea was this again?” she asked.
“Anita’s. This is what you get for being deceptive, honey,” Mom said, patting her shoulder.
“Thanks, Mom. That helps.” She rubbed her tired eyes.
“Everyone knows to pretend, not to worry. We won’t blow your cover.” Mom took a tray of food and went downstairs to the covered deck, where the buffet would be.
“I ordered an ice-cream truck, too,” Joy said. “I thought that would be fun.”
“Joy…” Lark sighed internally. She couldn’t fault Joy, whose heart was as big as New England. “This is amazing. You really went all out.”
Her friend’s face was bright with happiness, which reminded Lark that she hadn’t shot that face up with anything in the recent past. Not that she’d mention it. Joy looked prettier for it.
“You’re welcome, sweetie! I love entertaining. I’ve been so sad, I kind of forgot.”
Lark’s heart melted a little more. “In that case, I’m really glad we’re doing this. I’ll pay you back somehow.”
“Nonsense! This is my groove! Oh, did I tell you? Your mom’s going to do a painting class at Bayview, isn’t that great? Who knows? Maybe one of those old geezers is a Vincent Picasso in the making. Grab those bottles of wine and bring them downstairs, okay? Your dad is bringing ice.”
She obeyed, and for the next hour, ran trays, set out napkins, picked and arranged flowers, dumped ice over bottles of wine and cans of beer. Connery ran around her, excited by all the activity.
“Stick with me, Connery,” she said. “You’re my ally today. And don’t get eaten by the falcon, okay?”
It really was a perfect day for a picnic. Not a cloud to be seen, low humidity, enough of a breeze so that the hot sun wouldn’t drive anyone inside. And yes, Joy’s house was perfect for a party. The two huge decks; expansive lawn; vast, cool interior and views of the sparkling ocean. The girls would have a blast running up and down the wooden boardwalk. The shed contained all sorts of beachy accessories—kayaks, beach chairs, inflatables. Dad was down on the sand now, setting up a volleyball net.
And here came everyone. Addie, Nicole and the girls. Harlow; her boyfriend, Grady; his daughter, Luna; and Rosie, Harlow’s best friend, who was visiting for a couple of weeks. Robbie was with them, having been crushing on Rosie since he was, oh, ten years old. Harlow’s dog, Ollie, was here, too, and immediately began romping and tussling with Connery in case there wasn’t enough chaos. Winnie, stone-faced, had driven Frances and Grandpop, who was wearing a blue seersucker suit and panama hat.
Lark could always sneak off to her little guesthouse to hide.
But no. The Santinis came right on their heels, piling out of a huge SUV like it was a clown car. Dante wasn’t with them, she noted. She was relieved and disappointed at the same time. Mostly relieved, she told herself. They poured into the yard, the house, onto the deck, and Lark greeted and kissed and hugged and stuck bottles of wine in the appropriate places, took a cake from Anita, showed Izzy where to park Noni.
“Where’s the alcohol?” Izzy asked. “I’ve been in the car with the Crypt Keeper for almost an hour here.”
“Lorenzo! Honey, there you are!” Anita cried.
“He came in his Maserati and wouldn’t even let me ride shotgun,” Izzy muttered.
“Hello,” Lorenzo said, accepting a hug from his mother. He looked sullen and gorgeous, like an ad for a very expensive cologne.
“That’s him?” Nicole said. “I can see why she’s with him. That’s a Patek Philippe watch.”
“Tone it down, Nicole,” Winnie said.
“Hello,” Lorenzo said to Lark, his voice grim.
“Hi,” she said. “I…yeah.” Since they were being watched, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He didn’t visibly recoil, so points for that. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I had nothing to do with this.”
“And yet here we are.”
“I’m simply a tenant.” She turned to her family, who stood on one side of the large kitchen. “Mom, Dad, meet Anita and Silvio Santini. This is Lorenzo, my…boyfriend, and this is Noni, Silvio’s mom. This is Isabella, who’s a nurse—Izzy, my dad is also a nurse, I’m sure you two can swap horror stories—and this is Sofia, the bride, and her handsome fiancé, Henry Chang, and his mom, Jocelyn.”
A chorus of hellos rose up.
Lark took a deep breath. “Santinis, meet my parents, Gerald and Elsbeth—”
“Call me Ellie, please,” Mom said.
“Our wonderful hostess, Joy Deveaux, my landlady and friend. There’s Grandpop, his girlfriend, Frances—”
“Hello, hello!” Grandpop said.
“And these are my siblings, in birth order. Harlow; her best friend, Rosie; her partner, Grady; and his adorable little girl, Luna.”
“I’m five,” Luna said.
“Five is awesome,” Izzy said.
Lark smiled and continued. “This is Addison, my twin, obviously, and her wife, Nicole, and their gorgeous daughters, Esme and Imogen. That’s my sister Winnie, and that’s my brother, Robbie, and did I leave anyone out?”
Everyone seemed to speak at once. Lorenzo gave her a dark look, then took the handles of his grandmother’s wheelchair and pushed her into the dining room, away from the din of conversation. Lark followed, and Winnie drifted in as well.
“Hi,” Winnie said. “I’m Lark’s youngest sister. Nice to meet you, Mrs.Santini.”
Noni raised her head—she’d gotten a new wig—and eyed Winnie. “You,” Noni said in her whispery voice. “I no like you. Your face, it’s not nice.”
“Okay,” Winnie said, straightening up. “Well, based on that, I no like you, either, ma’am.”
“Excuse me,” Lorenzo said, his voice like a knife. “She’s an old lady.”
“Yeah. Rude, too,” Winnie said, unimpressed.
“How about some respect?” he said.
“I called her ma’am,” Winnie retorted, and Lark smothered a laugh.
“Mom,” Silvio said, coming in with an apologetic expression, “let me take you onto the deck. Are you cold? Let’s get you in the sunshine. Excuse me, kids.” He removed Noni, to Lark’s relief. She was never sure Noni wasn’t about to shiv her.
Winnie and Lorenzo eyed each other. “So you’re the asshole doctor?” Winnie asked.
“Winnie,” Lark sighed.
“I am,” Lorenzo said.
Winnie glanced around. “Let me just say that intimidating my sister into pretending to date you is a shitty thing to do,” she said in a low voice. “I told her to file charges against you.”
“I didn’t intimidate her. This is a completely voluntary situation,” Lorenzo said. “I resent the implication.”
“Hey, walk that back, Winona,” came Robbie’s voice. He appeared in the doorway, holding Rosie’s hand. “Hi, I’m the brother, in case you missed it. Love this whole situation. Totally romantic. I’ve seen this movie, in like, eight different versions.”
Lorenzo gave Lark a pitying look.
“Hi,” said Rosie. “I’m Harlow’s friend, Rosie Wolfe.”
“Also my girlfriend,” Robbie said.
“It’s almost true,” Rosie said. “We are close to finalizing negotiations.”
“Wait, what?” Izzy entered, holding a drink. “Lark, I was promised a husband, and now I learn your brother is already with someone? Hi, I’m Isabella Santini. Just kidding. Very nice to meet you, even if we won’t be husband and wife soon. Sorry, and your name again?” She smiled at Rosie.
“Rosie. I’m not related to anyone here. I just pretend to be.”
Izzy laughed, but Lark was already exhausted. Why did she have so many siblings? Why did Lorenzo?
Lorenzo took her by the arm and towed her to the butler’s pantry. “This is ridiculous.”
“I know,” she said as he closed the door to the small room. “Lying is exhausting. Can’t we just tell everyone we’re not together?”
“No.”
“Your grandmother is more likely to bite me than give us her blessing, and anyway, no one has to tell her. It’s not like we’ll be staying together.” Dating his brother, though…
“Lower your voice, for one. For two, don’t be fooled. My grandmother wants what’s best for me, and because of some outdated European notions of family, she thinks a wife is that thing.”
“For one, wives are not things, and for two, I’m not your wife! I’m your fake girlfriend.”
“I’m well aware, Lark! Believe me, I wouldn’t marry you with a gun to my head, not if it meant having to deal with your family.”
“Are you yelling at my sister and insulting my family?” Addison had just opened the door and stepped in, ignoring boundaries like a good twin. “Also, there’s a Santini coming up the stairs from the yard, so stop yelling.”
“She yelled first,” Lorenzo said.
“I don’t care,” Addie said. “Also, Lark never yells. She’s perfect in every way.”
Lorenzo heaved a sigh, looked at Lark and walked back into the melee.
“Charming, isn’t he?” Lark said.
“You okay?” Addie asked.
“No. Not at all. I was ambushed by this.”
“He really is gorgeous,” Addie said. She peered out the window. “What’s that on Grandpop’s arm? Is that a falcon?”
A nap. Definitely a nap. Or a kidnapping, if she could get someone to pop her into the trunk of a car and drive off somewhere.
An hour later, though, Lark found herself standing alone on the shaded patio, looking out over Joy’s lawn. Tiger lilies and black-eyed susans bobbed on the breeze; the hydrangeas were an electric shade of blue; the kids were flying kites on the beach with Robbie, Rosie, Harlow and Grady. In the yard and on the deck, people had separated into little clumps of conversation. None of Lark’s family had outed the fake relationship, though at this point, it would’ve been a relief if they did. An oysterman was shucking at the raw bar Joy had set up, and the food was fantastic. Aside from herself and Lorenzo (and Noni), everyone seemed to be having a great time.
Especially Joy. Lark smiled, watching her. She hadn’t seen her this animated…well, ever.
“You.”
“Jesus!” Lark practically leaped out of her skin. It was Noni, like a ninja in her wheelchair. “Sorry. Hi, Noni,” she said. Apparently Noni could get around on her own, a fact previously undisclosed to Lark. “Can I get you anything?”
“You love my grandson?” she asked.
Which one?Lark thought, then cringed. “He’s very…special.”
“He alone mosta his life. He need somebody.”
“Yes. I agree.”
“I die soon.”
She knew? Lorenzo made it seem like she was in the dark about that. “How are you handling that? Would you like to talk a little?”
The old lady shrugged. “We all die.” She glanced up at Lark. “I no like Lorenzo alone, working, no life, no love. He need kids. Happy times.”
Okay, then. So she did have human emotions. “I’m sure he’ll have them,” Lark said. It was possible.
“You gonna be good to him?”
“Sure. Of course. You don’t have to worry about him, Noni. He’s…he’s well loved.” By someone, surely.
Noni narrowed her eyes. “Eh. Whadda you know? Go find my son.”
“You got it.” Like a prisoner who’d just been pardoned, Lark leaped off to find Silvio and told him where his mother was lurking. Grabbed a pork sandwich and ate it, accepted a glass of wine from Addie.
“Larkby,” her sister said, “when this summer is done, how about if we have a twin weekend, just us? Spa, food, wine, more food, fun. We both need it.”
“I’m in,” she said. It was a nice thought, but honestly, if she got back into Oncology, she’d be way too busy for that. And she would get back in. She’d sent Dr.Hanks a report of what she was doing, from the studying, the classes, podcasts and papers, the hospice work, and he’d emailed back, saying she was on the right path.
So good for her.
“Oh, Jocelyn’s waving to me,” Addie said. “She said the girls could feed the falcon, and I want to get some pictures for Instagram. See you later.” She shoved her wineglass into Lark’s hand and dashed down to the beach, where Jocelyn was indeed showing Otto off to the little ones. (Lark had tucked Connery into the guesthouse, just in case.) Grady and Harlow were holding hands, watching, and Robbie and Rosie were notably not in sight, probably making out somewhere. Dad was talking to Grandpop and Silvio, and Mom was coming out with more food.
“Hello, Lark. There you are!”
Lark froze, then turned. Heather and Theo Dean stood in front of her.
“Hi!” she said. “Um…how are you?”
“I told you she forgot, hon,” Theo said, giving her a hug. “Whale watching today? Dinner at the Red Inn afterward?”
Her heart dropped like a stone. “Oh no, I did forget,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I…I’ve worked an awful lot this week, and then Joy threw this picnic, and I…I’m so embarrassed.”
“Honey, it’s just us,” Heather said, kissing her cheek. “Don’t apologize. It happens. Do you want to skip it, then? We can do it another time.”
“Lark, do you have a key to the shed? Henry and I thought we’d take a kayak out, and Joy said…Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
It was Sofia and Henry. Lark felt a little dizzy.
“Hi. I’m Heather, and this is my husband, Theo,” said Heather. “We’re friends of the family.”
“I’m Sofia Santini, and this is my fiancé, Henry Chang. I’m Lorenzo’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you,” Henry said.
“And who’s Lorenzo?” Theo asked as they shook hands.
Sofia glanced at Lark. “Lark’s boyfriend,” she said with a smile.
For a second, both Deans froze. Lark tried to say something and failed. Her heart rolled in rapid, sickening thuds. Heather looked like Lark had just stabbed her, and Theo’s eyes were too wide.
“Theo! Heather! So nice to see you!” It was Mom, charging to the rescue. Hopefully to the rescue, anyway.
“We apparently…um…we mixed up dates,” Heather said, recovering a little. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your party.”
“No, no, not at all,” Mom said.
“We’ll find the key ourselves,” Henry said, apparently sensing the tremor in the force.
Lark swallowed. “Under the flowerpot to the left of the door,” she said.
That left her standing there on the upper deck with her mother and the Deans.
“You have a boyfriend,” Heather said. “That’s wonderful, Lark.” But the bleakness in her voice belied the words.
“Is he here? Can we meet him?” Theo asked. His face looked a little gray.
“I’m not dating anyone,” Lark blurted. “It’s a long story. I didn’t tell you because…it’s not a…” She looked at her mother.
“Tell you what,” Mom said briskly. “There’s a little Shakespearean comedy going on here right now. It’s not what it seems, in other words. Lark is doing a colleague a favor, being his date for a wedding this summer. Why don’t we have dinner or drinks sometime? I’d love to come by your house. It’s been ages.” She gave Lark a pointed look, then steered Heather and Theo back into the house, her voice getting fainter. “How’s your summer been? Are you going back and forth to Boston, or…”
Mom would be getting a huge birthday present this year. Huge. Very expensive.
You know what? This would be a great chance to sneak into her house, check on Connery and breathe into a paper bag. She slipped through Joy’s, went out the side door and ran up the path to her place. No one called out her name or saw her, thank the adorable seven-pound Christ child, as Dr.Unger was fond of saying.
Her little house was quiet and neat, an oasis of calm compared to the barbarian hordes of family at Joy’s. Connery danced up to her, little tail wagging, and she scooped him up, then sat down on the couch. This shit was getting out of hand, just as Mom had predicted. Lesson? Mothers are always right. Noni wasn’t exactly yearning for Lorenzo to be with her, and Lorenzo’s promised introduction to the Dana-Farber team was probably not going to be necessary. Accepting his proposal had been a decision made in fear and a hurry. Again, Mom had been right. Lark could get back into Oncology on her own. If she even wanted to.
She reached out for the picture of her and Justin—the same one she’d shown Dante—and stared at it. Had she always wanted to be a doctor, or had his sickness pushed her there? Would she have chosen oncology without a boyfriend who’d had leukemia? Would she have made it her life’s mission if not for his death?
“I miss you,” she said.
Connery, thinking she was talking about him, nuzzled her arm as if to say, No need, I’m right here.
But the truth was, she hadn’t been missing Justin as much. Once, it had seemed as if her arms had been amputated, she’d been so unsure of how to live without him. Even after the shock of his loss had faded, there had been so many days when breathing seemed foreign and complicated, when she sat in a dark room for hours, unseeing, baffled as to how her heart kept beating. Days when tears were always close, and the idea of the rest of her life felt like a lead-filled body bag she had to drag behind her.
That wasn’t true anymore. She was living without him. She’d become a doctor. She had friends and colleagues. She was a volunteer. A sister and sister-in-law. An aunt. She’d met the Santinis. She was even enjoying work.
She had a crush. It wasn’t a question any longer.
So life had gone on, just as predicted. And she’d been healing, even without realizing it.
With a sigh, she put the picture back. She had to get back to this excruciating party. She could use a fresh shirt, though, since hers was damp with sweat. She went into her bedroom and froze.
Dante was asleep on her bed. Fully clothed in faded jeans and Boston Fire T-shirt, one arm over his head. Sofia had said he’d had a long night at a fire and probably wouldn’t be coming. Sofia had been wrong.
Lark sat down next to him—it was her bed, after all—and took a long look at him, possibly for the first time, since all those other times were fraught with that dark electrical feeling, or more recently, her panic attack, or just embarrassment because of said crush. Now she studied the details—his long legs; lean waist; broad, solid chest rising slightly with breath. His arms were things of rock-solid beauty, the bottom of his tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt. The Bible verse he’d gotten for his mom. Damn.
His jaw was lean, lips full. There was a bump on his nose, possibly from a break. Long, dark lashes, strong brows, a small burn on his forehead, then all that thick, wavy brown hair, tawny streaks from the sun.
God, she liked him. She liked everything about him.
Suddenly, he jolted awake and shot into a seated position. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, smiling, because who woke up like that?
“Good.” He looked at her a long second, his eyes turning as warm and inviting as maple syrup.
Then he kissed her.
A soft, warm kiss that was very clearly not a mistake. His lips were full and smooth, and his hand went to the back of her head, and Lark leaned into that kiss, everything in her softening and answering. She let out a little sigh, her hand going to his chest, and he was so warm and solid. His heart thudded against her palm.
It felt so good, so new and strange…and it also felt like home.
He pulled back, his hand still at the back of her head. “I know you’re with my brother,” he said, and his voice was a little rough, “and I shouldn’t have done that. But I felt like I might regret it the rest of my life if I didn’t.”
His words sank into her, hot and warm and heavy.
The banging on the door made Lark leap back, scrambling to her feet.
“It’s me, so relax,” came Addie’s voice. She poked her head in the bedroom door. “Hi. I’m her identical twin in case you’re blind. It’s toast time, apparently, and Mrs.Santini the Younger is wondering where you are, Larkby.”
“Okay,” Lark said. She glanced at Dante. “Um, this is the brother.”
“The brother who’s up to no good, I see,” Addie said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Dante Santini. Hi.”
“Oh, my God. That name is even better than your brother’s. If I weren’t gay…anyway, give Lark thirty seconds so it doesn’t seem like you two were making out in here.”
Dante grinned. “Nice to meet you, Addison.”
“I’m very confused, Larkby,” Addie whispered as she towed Lark down to Joy’s. “I thought you were fake dating the other one.”
“I am,” Lark whispered. “I’m just…kind of falling for that one.”
“Were those the Deans I saw?”
“Yes. A very exciting day for me.” She grimaced and squeezed Addie’s hand.
Addie laughed. “Oh, honey. I haven’t seen you this alive in way too long.” She shoved Lark through the door.
“There you are!” Joy said. “We’re doing toasts!”
“Do we have to?” Robbie muttered.
Harlow smacked his head.
Lark made her way around the living room to where Lorenzo was standing. “Where have you been?” he hissed.
“Shush,” she whispered, forcing a grin. Were her cheeks red? They felt very red. “Your mother’s about to say something.”
“I’ve had to deal with your unruly—”
She elbowed him in the ribs, hard, which did the trick.
“I just wanted to take a minute and thank you, Joy,” Anita said. “What an amazing feast you put together for us!”
“Hear, hear,” said Grandpop. “Joy, you are a wonder!”
“And thank you to all the Smiths,” Anita said. “We already feel like family.”
“For God’s sake,” Lorenzo muttered.
“We have one happy couple who’ll be getting married in just a few weeks,” Anita said, beaming at Sofia and Henry, then turning to Lark and Lorenzo.
“Shit,” Lorenzo muttered.
“Here it comes,” Winnie said, rolling her eyes.
“And who knows? Maybe we’ll have another happy couple to toast soon, too! Oh, Dante, sweetie! So glad you made it.”
“Hi, everyone,” he said. “I’m the brother.”
“No, I’m the brother,” Robbie said.
“I’m the heroic firefighter brother,” Dante corrected.
“Shit. You got me beat there. But I’m the irresistibly adorable—”
“Will you two shut up?” Winnie snapped.
“Thank you,” Lorenzo said.
“To happy couples,” Lark said, raising her glass. “Mom and Dad, Anita and Silvio, Grandpop and Frances, Addie and Nicole, Harlow and Grady, Sofia and Henry, maybe Rosie and Robbie. Cheers!”
Before Anita or any other Santini could add her and Lorenzo to the list, she chugged her drink. “Now, who wants to play cornhole?”
An eternity later, Lark lay in bed, her head spinning from too much sun, wine, family, friction, fright and pheromones.
Dante Santini had kissed her.
She had to break up with his brother. Fast.