Chapter 4
FOUR
Max
That night’s welcome party is pure Damien: informal, laid-back, and relaxed. For one thing, it's not even a dinner. It's basically a night-long poolside bash, so everyone in attendance will likely get nice and loose, if they aren't already.
We’ll have a Cuban pig roast at some point tonight, but the beast looks like it's far from cooked through, and Dad is concerned the guys manning the pit will burn the resort down — that’s so Dad, always overthinking, always vigilant, even around people who fight wildfires for a living — so he's hovering.
While wearing a black apron with a manatee on the front.
The guest list is a mix of Damien's firefighting crew, some local friends, and a handful of women I've never seen before. Probably Mom’s coven, from the looks of all the flowing linen dresses and amulets. As a party goes, it's perfectly weird, and weirdly perfect. As the welcome dinner for my little brother’s wedding, it’s questionable.
This wasn’t what I envisioned for the first wedding of our family.
The whole relationship is odd, as far as I'm concerned. It’s too much, too soon. Or maybe it's because I still can't help thinking of Damien as a ten-year-old.
Sighing, I look around. Clustered near the pool and the surrounding lawn are an assortment of tanned firefighters and their partners, interspersed with younger locals I barely recognize.
Lights are strung between the palms and everyone’s taking photos.
The water in the pool glows a warm blue in the fading light.
There are a few people missing, though.
For starters, Damien and his fiancée. I still don't quite understand how their relationship happened so quickly. Sure, they knew each other in high school. But he'd come home in September and then, like a flash of heat lightning, he was engaged.
Even for Damien, this seems impulsive. Then again, we're total opposites.
Of all our siblings, he's the one I'm least close to — partly the seven year age gap, partly the years we've both been away.
He's more moody and intense, and I'm methodical and steady.
Still, we have one thing in common: we're the only two of us five kids who left Cypress Grove. Also, I admire the hell out of the way he’s traveled all over the world, fighting fires.
It really puts my work in perspective.
I'd give my life for the guy. But I don't understand this shotgun wedding. Maybe Kate’s pregnant, although everyone in my family insists she’s not.
There's one other person I haven't spotted yet: the woman staying next door to me. The one who walked in on me half naked this afternoon. Where is she? She has to be part of the wedding group, because those are the only guests staying at the resort.
I spot Ma and Natalia near a cluster of potted palms, holding their drinks, and amble over. Ma's eyes go wide.
“Max! You look so handsome. So dignified.” She smooths the front of my white linen shirt.
I chuckle, thinking about that woman from earlier and how she'd probably describe me as the opposite of dignified. “Where's the man of the hour and his bride-to-be?”
“Damien and Kate are going over their vows and discussing arrangements. You know, it's so good to have you home.” Ma pinches my side. “You're too thin.”
Natalia rolls her eyes. “Here we go. The endless worrying about the first-born prince.”
I reach to give Nat a hug, and she squirms her slight frame out of my embrace. My younger — and only — sister is the snarkiest and smartest of us all. Guess she had to be, growing up with four brothers. For her first eighteen years, I think we did everything in our power to annoy her.
I flash back to the other night at the dinner table, when she and Remy got into a pitched battle over who drank her last cherry-lime fizzy water.
Okay, admittedly we've annoyed her in adulthood too.
“Maybe I'm the most fragile, my dear little sister.
I seem responsible and organized, but inside I'm a tender soul. Remember, I was an only child for a few years before Mom and Dad decided to bring the rest of you urchins into the world. You all took everything away from me,” I joke, giving her my best puppy-dog face.
“Whatever. I'm glad you're back for this spectacle.” She grins and gestures around the party with her cup.
I shake my head. Spectacle is right. We'd grown up with our parents' marriage being the pinnacle of love, and if I had to bet, all of us want to hold out for something like what they have.
That Damien's tying the knot in such a cavalier way almost feels like a sacrilege.
“Oh, there's Amelia Matthews. She owns the Crescent Moon Inn now.
I haven't seen her in ages. I'll be right back.” Ma flutters off, tossing her silver wrap over her tanned shoulders.
As usual she's dressed like a very glamorous hippie — shiny silver Birkenstocks, flowy white tank top, billowing white pants, a pale purple scarf.
A giant silver pendant shaped like a sand dollar hangs from a sterling chain.
She's always had a strong New Age streak, which is hilarious because Dad stays as far from the metaphysical stuff as humanly possible.
I glance at Natalia, who has dyed her long blonde hair a light bluish-purple since I saw her last. Which was yesterday. She looks like a woodland sprite, if woodland sprites vacationed at Florida resorts.
“Check out Ma's silver sandals,” I say.
Nat glances over and grins. “She called me from the store. Forty-five minutes on the phone, Max. Forty-five minutes about sandals.”
“And you stayed on the line the whole time.”
“Of course I did.” She shrugs, utterly unapologetic. “She's Ma.”
I laugh. Ma is known across town as a lover of shoes — once she donated several expensive pairs she'd worn only once to a fundraiser for the Cypress Grove library. It's a whole thing.
“She's excited about the wedding. Might be the only one here,” Nat says.
I nod slowly. Leave it to Ma, the romantic of the bunch, to be thrilled. She hasn't stopped chiding me whenever I've grumbled about how weird this all is, and she has zero patience for my skepticism.
“Think we can talk some sense into Damien?” I sip my beer and look into my sister's blue eyes.
Of the five of us, Natalia and I look the most alike — fair hair, blue eyes, runners' builds.
Like Dad and his Scottish heritage. Damien and Remy are somewhat identical twins, and Tate is a slightly older-looking carbon copy of them — dark hair, dark eyes, taking after Ma's Italian-Puerto Rican side.
Nat shrugs. “Talk him out of the wedding? Nope. You've seen him. He's shockingly head over heels.”
I grimace. “That’s so odd. He’s never brought a woman home.”
“Yeah, always kept to himself. Unlike Remy, who never keeps to himself.” She shudders theatrically.
“But this Kate woman...”
We sigh in tandem.
“Shifting gears.” Nat fixes a hard stare on me, and I know we're off the subject of Damien. “Ma's ecstatic you're home. She can't stop talking about it. She thinks you're testing the waters to move back for good.”
I snort. “Yeah, right.”
“I keep telling her you won't leave the city. You love the hustle too much.”
“It's not just that, Nat.” Though there's some truth to it.
Natalia presses her shoulder gently into mine. “I know. It's that you like the challenge of New York. But maybe you'd find the challenge you're looking for right here. Have you thought about buying the resort yourself? I'd help you run it. We'd be an incredible team.”
I groan. “You know I have a complicated relationship with this place. And you know I'd have you on my team any day — been trying to get you to come to New York for years.”
She shrugs impatiently, and for the first time I notice how my sister looks older. She's thirty-two but I always imagine her as a kid.
“Why do you even put up with the city? It stinks like garbage in the summer, it's a long way from a decent beach, and you can't get a good grouper sandwich anywhere.”
“I know. But my consulting business...” I let my voice trail off.
“You could sell that business for a crapton of money. I don't see what you're trying to prove. I've seen you here and in New York. And if I’m being honest, you look a whole lot happier in Cypress Grove.”
I take a long sip. I can't argue with her because it's true. So I change the subject. “Hey, did you train the new front desk staff? The ones we hired the other day?”
“Yeah. Why?” She stares at me, confused.
“They completely mixed up the key cards this afternoon. Some woman got programmed into my room and walked in on me.”
Natalia holds up a hand. “Who was at the desk? James? Skinny guy? Black-rimmed glasses?”
“Yeah. Hawaiian shirt?”
“That's our staff uniform. Didn't you notice?”
“I've been busy with contractors.” I scratch my chin, still unconvinced about dressing the staff like extras in a surfing movie. Sometimes my family is brilliant, other times they're something else entirely.
“I'll talk to James.”
“Please do, because the woman walked in on me in a rather compromising position.”
Natalia pokes me in the chest. Her face is screwed up into a grimace. “You pig. You couldn’t even wait until after the wedding? Who did you —”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I was alone. Just, you know. Mid-undress. It was warm.”
My sister stares. “Men,” she mutters.
Right then, Tate walks over. He's the second oldest of us, but because he's nearer in age to Nat, they've always been close.
He's got his characteristic outdoor tan — what happens when you spend half your life outdoors as part of your environmental work — and is carrying what looks like an extremely expensive bottle of Scotch.
“I agree. Men are insufferable,” he says to Nat while slapping me on the back.
“Thank you,” our sister says.
“Hello, counselor.” I nod at him. Tate's the kind of environmental attorney who actually wins cases, which has made him very popular with the local conservation groups and very unpopular with certain developers.
When he graduated from the University of Florida law school, I encouraged him to apply to firms in New York.
He looked at me like I'd suggested he move to the moon.
Natalia fiddles with a lock of hair. “Max was telling me how the desk gave some woman his key card and she walked in on him. In his boxers doing god-knows-what.”
Tate raises an eyebrow. “And?”
“And nothing. She fled. Rightfully so.” I grin. “Though I did bring her a peace offering beer afterward.”
“How very civilized,” Tate says drily.
“So who is this mystery woman?” Nat cranes her neck, scanning the pool area. “She must be here for the wedding. Is it the mother of the bride? Wouldn’t that be hilarious?”
“No, she’s closer in age to us. She had long dark hair, curly. Wearing a blue and white striped dress. Gorgeous legs, gold sandals.”
Tate spots someone, hoists the bottle of Scotch in the air, then again thumps my back. “Good luck with the mystery woman, my man,” he says, and wanders away.
“Ok, let’s try to find the mystery woman,” Nat says, craning her neck. “Ooh. Over there, near the pool bar. Close to the guy with the firefighter tattoo on his forearm.”
I swivel and squint. The sun is low over the cypress trees and about an hour from setting. “Where? No, that's not her. Hair's not dark enough.”
I scan the clusters of people near the high-top tables.
“I feel like a tourist,” I admit. “I don't recognize half these people.”
Natalia stares at me. “Of course you don’t. You've been gone too long. Things have changed, Max.”
“No kidding.” A pang of unease goes through me. I used to know everyone in Cypress Grove.
“Aha.” My eyes find her near the pool bar, and my heart speeds up. “There she is.”
And she’s even more beautiful in the golden hour. Her curls are loose over her shoulders, and she's holding a bottle of water, standing next to a woman I don't recognize.
“Where?” Nat yelps.
“Shh. Near the bar. Brunette. Holding the water. Don't stare.” I raise my hand in a wave. She doesn't return it — either she can't see me or she's pretending she doesn’t.
“Ooh, she's pretty,” says Nat. “That's Lauren. Kate's best friend. The maid of honor.”
I guffaw. The maid of honor. Intriguing on all levels.
I wonder if Lauren knows how and why Kate and my brother fell for each other so fast. I also wonder if she's the kind of woman who'd consider a no-strings weekend — though the two thoughts are somewhat at odds, and she did seem fairly unimpressed with me this afternoon.
Cognitive dissonance is a predictor of intelligence, I've heard.
“Excuse me,” I say to Nat. “I've got to make proper acquaintance with the woman I'll be walking down the aisle with.”
I keep my eyes on Lauren as I make my way through the crowd. At one point she turns and catches my eye. I wink.
And then she slips smoothly into a cluster of people, as if she's avoiding me entirely.