6 Gemma
Gemma
“So, Juliet, how’s climate change coming? You kill it yet?” Lincoln asked, lifting his Arnold Palmer from the table as he sat back in his chair.
Juliet startled and clipped her own glass against the side of her plate. She had joined the lunch late and hadn’t touched anything other than what appeared to be a gin and tonic, light on the tonic.
“Still working on it,” she said shortly. Her lipstick left a deep-red stain on the side of the otherwise pristine glass.
Gemma took a deep breath. No one had spoken to her since Lincoln had introduced her and Grant and the girls.
They all seemed a bit preoccupied, the women especially, and it wasn’t like she was aching to be besties.
She did feel kind of awkward, though, while the guys talked golf and the girls scrolled on their phones, Vienna with that odd little dog in her lap now.
What she wouldn’t give for a book to bury her nose in.
She did want to put her best foot forward.
If these people liked her—or at least found her tolerable—it would only help Grant’s cause.
Time to be a functional member of the party.
“Do you work on environmental causes?” she asked Juliet, even though she already knew the answer. She’d studied up on everyone before she got here.
“Oh, I’m the founder and CEO of Green Warriors,” Juliet told her. “It’s an up-and-coming environmental nonprofit that focuses mostly on global warming. We lobby governments around the world to change their emissions policies.”
Vienna’s attention was piqued by this, and she shifted in her seat, sitting up taller, forcing the dog to shift positions and resettle.
While Vienna’s eyes were still trained on her phone, Gemma knew her girls well enough to know that Vienna was tuning in while trying to look uninterested.
Florence, meanwhile, snorted quietly at some random video playing on her screen and in her earbuds.
Sometimes Gemma wondered if there was anything that could pique her interest other than makeup and boys.
And cuddly animal memes. She’d had the dog first before Vienna had lobbied to take her turn.
“She just got back from a trip to East Asia,” Lincoln piped up. “You were gone for what? Four weeks?”
“That must have been rough,” Gemma said, spearing a bit of salad with her fork.
“Actually”—Juliet pursed her lips—“most of the Asian countries are not as averse to the climate change conversation as people think they are.”
Gemma paused. As always, she’d said the right thing the wrong way.
She hadn’t meant to imply that Asian leaders in general were turning their back on the environment.
She’d been trying to say that the travel must have been rough.
From what she’d gleaned, Juliet had a baby who was under one.
Being away from him—assuming she hadn’t taken a relative newborn with her—couldn’t have been easy.
Not to mention the long flights, the jetlag, jumping from country to country.
But she decided not to explain herself. The vibe at the table was not the most forgiving.
Ever since they’d sat down, all three women had seemed on edge, shooting each other furtive looks, checking their phones, leaning into each other occasionally to whisper.
It felt like she’d accidentally joined the popular table in high school and everyone was gearing up to tell her to leave.
“What about you, Suzy?” Gemma tried again. “What do you do?”
“I’m in interior design,” Suzy said.
“Mostly decorating our own houses, so it involves more spending money than actually making money,” Sean joked, eliciting laughs from all the husbands.
Suzy shot him a death glare across the table, and the men immediately fell silent. “Actually, I just landed a new client in Upper Montclair,” Suzy said and took a sip from her martini glass. “A couple just moved in from Brooklyn, and they want to redo the whole house. Five bedrooms and six baths.”
“Wow.” Lincoln leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and looked Suzy directly in the eye. “That should be a nice paycheck.”
There was an oddly loaded pause that only Gemma seemed to notice. Everyone else was distracted by their food, their drinks, or their phones. Everyone except for Juliet, who seemed to be staring daggers at Suzy from across the table.
“Oh, Lincoln. It’s gauche to talk about such things in mixed company,” Suzy replied with a glance in Hazel’s direction.
Hazel, Gemma noticed, was busy studying the twins. Lincoln sat back in his seat again but kept staring down Suzy. Interesting.
“Speaking of decorating, Hazel,” Suzy said. “Those photos in the upstairs hallway were an interesting choice. I mean, for a beach house.”
“Oh, they’re great, aren’t they?” Hazel said, oblivious to the backhanded compliment.
She popped the last bit of a lobster roll into her mouth.
“The photographer travels the world taking photos on beaches all over the place. He has this huge warehouse full of antiques and ships them wherever he goes.” She paused and looked down the table again.
“I’m sorry, but you two look so familiar,” Hazel said, wagging a finger between the twins, her perfect manicure glinting in the sunlight. “Where do I know you from?”
Vienna kicked Florence under the table, and Florence sat up, yanking out one earbud. “Ow! What?”
“Are you girls influencers?” Hazel asked. “I swear I’ve seen you before.”
Suddenly completely present, Florence swung her long hair back and smiled an endearing smile. “Yes! We’re twinswinninglife!”
“Oh my God, yes!” Hazel clapped once, then picked up her phone and tapped on it a few times. She turned the screen around to show a video the girls had made earlier in the week at their grandparents’ pool. Her expression was purely delighted. “I just liked this this morning!”
“That’s so sweet!” Florence said. She gave a nod that was somehow both humble and smug. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”
Gemma and Grant locked eyes. What was happening? This twentysomething was a fan of their daughters? It felt like the power dynamic at the table had somehow shifted, and now her girls were in charge. Or no, not in charge, but in focus.
“I’ve seen your channel too!” Suzy chimed in.
“That ombré cat eye you did was incredible! Remember, Sean? I did it for Cora’s wedding!
” Sean was clearly clueless, but Suzy was too enthralled to care.
She opened the photos app on her own phone, then showed the girls a selfie she’d taken with far too much eye makeup on.
That was something her girls had created?
She needed to keep better tabs on their content. But there was just so much of it.
“That’s incredible,” Vienna said, leaning in. “You did a good job. Not everyone can pull that off.”
Suzy blushed and preened. “Thank you. It took an hour, but everyone complimented me on it. You girls are geniuses.” She looked from Grant to Gemma. “You must be so proud of them.”
“So proud,” Grant said, grinning.
For some reason, Gemma felt like flipping the table over.
She couldn’t even manage to hold a conversation with these people, and now they were fawning all over her kids.
Vienna and Florence both looked at her for validation, and their hopeful expressions faltered before she could add, “Yes, they’re incredible artists. ”
“Maybe we should talk about a collab,” Juliet said to the girls. “Do you support environmental causes?”
“We only work with eco-friendly cosmetics,” Florence confirmed. “But we haven’t partnered with a nonprofit yet. We should talk.”
“Perfect. I’ll find you after lunch,” Juliet replied.
Her daughters really were mini moguls. It was both inspiring and a little disturbing to see it in real time. They went back to their earbuds and videos after that, Vienna absently stroking the dog’s back, and a woman in what seemed to be the house uniform appeared at the sliders.
“Mr. Foster. The caterers are here, and they’re asking which kitchen to use,” she said.
Lincoln started to get up, and Grant jumped up as well, startling Gemma. “Wait! Before you get all involved, I wanted all of you to try something.”
He dove under the table and came out with a silver bucket full of ice and bottles of Shizzy’s Hard Fruit Punch. Lincoln’s eyes widened. Gemma felt her cheeks go pink. When the hell had Grant managed to set that up? And why was he hiding it under the table?
“This is a new hard fruit punch made by an independent distillery down in Georgia, and I love it so much, I just had to bring some for you all to try.” He looked so hopeful standing there holding the bucket with both hands, like a little kid trick-or-treating on Halloween.
“What’re you, selling the stuff?” Sean joked.
Grant’s face fell.
“He’s an investor,” Gemma piped up, hoping to help.
“Wait, wait, wait. You’re investing? In this?” Lincoln said. He reached across for a bottle and yanked it out. A few ice cubes slipped out with it and bounced onto the flagstone beneath their feet. “Look at this guy!” He pointed at Donnie’s winking face. “This is hilarious.”
Grant cleared his throat. “They already have a successful line of hard ciders and lemonades, but this flavor really breaks new ground. Go ahead. Try it.”
Lincoln lifted one shoulder. “I’m game.” He popped the top, and Gemma held her breath.
Please. Please, for the love of God, let his taste buds be totally different from mine.
He took a swig, swished it around in his mouth, and then turned and spit red liquor all over his unsuspecting employee. Suzy shrieked. The young woman didn’t even flinch. She simply closed her eyes and flicked a few red droplets off her cheek.
“Son of a bitch, that’s disgusting,” Lincoln said, dropping the bottle on the table with a clatter and running his hand across his lips. He grabbed the mixed drink he’d been sipping and gulped it down. Then he looked at the girl in her now-stained blue polo. “Oh, no, Candice, I’m so sorry!”