3. Meredith
MEREDITH
“Meredith?”
I look up from the kitchen table to find Eleanor peering through the door, the corded phone pressed to her chest as if it might muffle the sound of our conversation.
“Do you remember your Granny’s maiden name?”
The question throws me off completely.
I’m aware that somewhere in my hungover state, I’m blinking at her thoughtlessly, unable to gather the brain cells needed to give an answer. June isn’t twenty-one until December—the irony never fails to amuse us all—but she still always manages to drink me under the table.
“What?”
She blinks at me, her impatience starting to show. “Your dad’s mom.”
A gear slowly begins to rotate somewhere deep within the brain fog. “Why do you need to know?”
“There’s a lady on the phone who needs to know.” Mom looks at me expectantly, as if that explains anything at all.
I now have more questions flittering about in my head, making it even more difficult to process any part of this conversation. “Yeah, but why does she need to know?”
She clicks her tongue, as if I’m the one being unreasonable here. “She needs access to your dad’s bank account.”
I hold out a hand for the phone, but she waves me off.
“It won’t stretch that far, Mer. Just tell me.”
With a groan, I push myself up from the table. “Why does she need access to Dad’s bank account?”
“I don’t know!”
Exasperated—and still confused—I say, “You didn’t ask?”
“Well, she explained it, but?—”
I pluck the receiver from her hand and shove it to my ear. “Hello?”
Within ten seconds, I’ve slammed it back into the mount on the wall.
“Why did you?—”
“Mom!” I glare at her, more confused than before. “That was a scam.”
“What?” It’s almost endearing how surprised she seems. Suspicion has never come naturally to someone like Eleanor Holloway. She’s too gentle, too trusting. Too quick to believe the best in everyone. That would be admirable if it didn’t sometimes land her in trouble.
“We talked about this already,” I say as I draw from the bottomless pit of patience that I delve into when dealing with anything that concerns my mother. “You have to get them to tell you who they are first.”
Eleanor opens her mouth, as if to respond, before closing it again. “But she said?—”
“And if you’re still not sure, you come and find me.”
There’s a long-suffering sigh before I feel my mother’s weight pressed firmly against my side. Her head fits perfectly into the crook of my neck.
“How did I give birth to you, huh?”
A smile tickles the edges of my lips. “God had to put all your missing senses somewhere.”
“Sassy girl.” She pinches my cheeks despite the fact that she now needs to reach up to do it. “What would I do without you?”
June 2025
“June.” Mom’s interference does nothing to ease the tension in my sister’s shoulders, nor does it quell the rage on full display in my sister’s venomous expression.
It’s almost alarming how little has changed.
How June’s eyes are still hazel like Mom’s, and how her bottom teeth still peek above her bottom lip when she breathes too heavily.
Her hair should match mine, but she still does little to keep it tame, and her many ear piercings still frame her face in tasteful gold.
But I can see the fifteen years reflected in how she carries herself, in the laugh lines, and the freckles that are more prominent than ever.
In her clothing, she is confident in herself rather than confident in how she’s perceived.
Gone are the overwinged liner and sharp contouring; instead, there’s something more natural, raw, and yet entirely invulnerable.
June stares at me like I’m both a stranger and a monster, and, I suppose, from her perspective, they’re one and the same.
“What is this?” June doesn’t look away, but she clearly isn’t asking me, either.
That doesn’t stop me from replying. “I don’t know.”
“Shut up,” she sneers.
The room, previously stifling hot, promptly drops several degrees.
Ice trickles into my veins. “Don’t tell me to shut up. I just got here.”
“How dare you?—”
“Unless the next words out of your mouth are civil, I’ll?—”
“Leave?” June laughs again, that bitter, wretched sound. That’s new, too. “You’ve always been good at that.”
The problem with sisters is that they know exactly where to aim to cause the most damage.
“You wanna revert to childish taunts?” I refuse to play this game with her. “Fine. But I’m an adult, June. I’m not about to sit here and take whatever you feel like flinging at me just because you never learned how to communicate without throwing a tantrum and breaking everything.”
I should have slapped her instead. She’d probably have appreciated that more, and I might have been able to leave with at least a shred of dignity intact. But instead, I added fuel to an already overheating fire.
I realized my mistake far too late.
“Sure, Mer. I can be civil. Say, how was your wedding?”
Vaguely, I notice the other two people in the room. But all I see is that fire in my sister’s eyes burning open an old wound that feels almost unbearable to watch. Pure betrayal. It’s almost enough to make me forget the punchline to the joke that was my marriage.
None of it mattered, anyway.
She smirks at my expression. “I saw some of the pictures. You looked beautiful.”
That one really hurts. I blocked her everywhere after the sixty-eight missed calls. The texts were nearly twice that many, and the posts and comments on all my online profiles were even more embarrassing. “How?”
She steps forward. “Eddie.”
The name drops into my hollow stomach, clanging around like a lead pipe and reverberating in time with my overactive heart.
“June,” our mom admonishes, trying to sound like she’s scolding her.
“What, Mom? She should know!” June turns back to me with a smirk. “I’m sure he’d be interested to know you’re back on the island. He’s just about recovered from your last visit.”
This time, it’s my stepfather who steps in, using a much sterner tone. “June.”
“Shut up, Richard.”
June blinks at me for a second, momentarily stunned as we both realize the words came out of my mouth.
“I think we all just need to take a breath.” Eleanor comes to stand in the middle of the room, her calming presence now an annoyance as she takes her place beside her husband.
The man in question seems barely able to hold back his retort if the stiffness of his jaw is any indicator. “Why don’t you sit down, June?”
“No thanks. I think I’m going to stand here until Meredith has the decency to at least pretend to apologize.”
The headache behind my eyes flares to life. “Why do you want me to say? There’s no point talking to you when you’re like this.”
“Because, apparently, it’s impossible for you to fight for anything?—”
“I’m here!” Now, my blood is boiling.
A warm, blond presence steps into the room with her arms spread out freely, though her dazzling smile strains a little too much on her round cheeks. There’s a rush of movement, and I barely get a glimpse of the girl—no, woman—before Eleanor gleefully shrieks, “Sophie!”
Mom reaches her first, pulling her youngest in for a tight hug. June is piling on them both a second later.
Between the exclamations of how was your flight and I missed you so much, I glance over to the other outsider in the room. And the pang of loneliness caused by lumping us both into that category tightens in my throat.
Richard keeps his steely gaze fixed on his wife, his expression neutral as he observes the scene in front of him.
It should be harmless, but his lack of a smile at the touching reunion only heightens my disgust. No, it seems more like he’s calculating something.
Maybe he’s weighing the odds now, with all three of us here to tip the scales.
“Meredith?” Sophie’s voice rises above the mutterings of joy surrounding her.
Unlike Richard, I manage to do something with my expression. Even if it’s a cautious little thing, there’s a smile on my lips. “Hey, Soph. I didn’t know you were coming.”
My youngest sister suddenly appears just as awkward as I feel, tapping her perfectly manicured nails against an oversized suitcase, her eyes flicking to June with an unspoken question.
That lonely pang echoes again as I watch how easily they communicate with each other.
Of course, June was able to see her grow into the woman she is, but all I got was a heart attack when I saw her familiar face on a pizza chain ad a couple of years ago.
As if I could ever forget those round cheeks, easy smile, and tan skin—perfect for life on the West Coast. Eleanor’s doppelganger, if only they weren’t thirty years apart.
“Now that we’re all here…” Richard effectively interrupts the silence that was bound to follow. “Perhaps we can have a measured conversation.”
The way he looks at the three of us makes me feel twenty-two again, grieving and chafing against the sudden authority of a man I barely knew. If the way my sisters stiffen is any indication, they’re experiencing something similar.
Mom moves away from Sophie to sit in the armchair beside Richard. After a moment, June and Sophie settle on the couch next to me. A clear line in the sand.
I feel June’s gaze on the side of my face and turn to hold it.
I hate you. Her eyes say. But I hate him more.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just get right to it, I guess,” Eleanor begins as she starts rubbing soothing circles into her hands. “We’re preparing to sell the Holloway Lobster Shack.”
June’s gasp fills the room. “You can’t be serious.”
Mom waves a tired hand to stop her. “I’ve been managing things there for a long, long time. It’s a lot of work for someone my age, and it’s never made enough money.”
“It’s a money pit,” Richard takes over, forcing Eleanor to snap her mouth shut. “The revenue barely, if ever, surpasses the expenses. It would be unwise to waste more resources trying to keep it going out of sentimentality.”
June pierces him with her icy stare. “Oh, you can go?—”
“And it’s far too much for your mother to handle on her own, June,” Richard interrupts with a terrifyingly stern look. “I have been in contact with a real estate developer who’s interested in purchasing property in Siasconset. They’ve made your mother a very generous offer.”
“Wait.” We all turn to look at Sophie, who has her bottom lip between her teeth. “You mean they’d demolish it?”
Richard has never been known to sugarcoat things, so of course, he wasn’t about to start now in the face of my sister’s very obvious distress. He nods unapologetically. “Yes.”
“That’s not happening. Nope.” June shakes her head vehemently. “Mom, tell him.”
“Baby, you know this is a very difficult decision for me. That’s why I wanted you all to be here so we could say our goodbyes together.”
June balks, like she can’t believe her ears. “You can’t sell the Shack, Mom. It’s all we have left of?—”
“Your mother has already agreed to meet with the developers.” Richard’s hand closes around Eleanor’s shoulder.
And June is on her feet a second later. “She can talk for herself.”
“Can’t we hire someone? To take it over, I mean.” Sophie’s quiet voice breaks through the animosity.
It earns her a deep scowl from Richard. “Who’s going to pay for that? Haven’t you been paying attention? There’s no money left.”
“Don’t speak to her like that.” June raises her voice, nearly standing right in his face. “You can’t just bring us all here to drop this on us without giving us a chance to consider all our options.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not your decision to make.”
“Actually…” It’s the first time I’ve spoken since Sophie arrived, and I suddenly get the impression that they’d forgotten I was here. “We’re all named in the will.”
I deliberately avoid looking at June as I continue to address Richard directly. “In order to sell, you’d need all four signatures. So, unless you’re prepared to coerce us, June is right. We should be having a conversation about our options.”
“This is what’s best for your mother,” Richard spits as June backs down to the couch.
“Can I see the paperwork?” I counter, uncaring how biting my tone is. “Were you even planning to show us? Without proof of intent, I’d suggest we ignore the offer your developer friends made.”
Richard takes a deep breath before saying, “I have a verbal agreement.”
“Then you have nothing. If they were truly interested in the property, they would have at least shown you their development plans. Anyone worth their salt would know that courting the sale of a third-generation restaurant requires at least some tact. Especially if, and this is just a guess, it’s not the only property they’re considering in Siasconset.
” I turn to Mom. “Have you spoken to Roland about this yet? I’d be interested to know if Birdie’s Bar also has a verbal agreement. ”
Next to me, someone lets out a low whistle.
“I-I haven’t,” Mom admits, her wide eyes flickering between me and Richard, who now looks about a second away from blowing a top.
“You invited me here so I could check these things over,” I say to her as calmly and as reassuringly as I can. “We don’t need to make any decisions today, do we?”
Sophie seems to understand what I’m aiming for, quietly crossing the room to take our Mom’s hand in her own with a gentle smile. The wariness in Eleanor’s eyes gradually fades away.
But I don’t give up the fight. “So that gives us some time to get things in order. If this proposal is real?—”
“It is,” Richard snaps at me.
“Then we need documentation, Richard.”
He looks like he’s about to interrupt me again, so I charge through my point.
“But I agree with your motivations.” I know enough about family legal situations to understand that sometimes you just have to appear considerate. “If Mom wants to retire, then let me take over management of the Shack until we reach an agreement we’re all satisfied with.”
“Us, too.”
I turn to see June and Sophie exchanging a silent glance.
It’s June who finally breaks the silence. “We all have a stake in the Shack. If you’re going to manage things, then we might as well consider Sophie’s suggestion. Let’s see if we can find a way to get it up and running again.”
Eleanor worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. The Shack hasn’t been open since last summer.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Sophie says as she squeezes Mom’s hand. “We always do.”