Right girl wrong side, p.17
Right Girl, Wrong Side, page 17
“Kirk! Whoa! What are you doing?” She kicked her heels but suddenly she was laughing. “Kirk! Stop right this instant!”
He took two long strides down the beach.
Her hat flew off in the wind, and the hem of her sarong whipped up around her husband’s back. She pounded his shoulders, but he wore a devilish grin.
Maddy stopped playing in the water, standing and holding her boogie board. The Machados all froze watching too.
He was not going to do it.
Oh yes, he was.
“Kirk!” his mom wailed as they approached the roaring sea. “I said put me down!”
“All right.” He leaned forward and kissed her, then hurled her into the waves.
“Ahh!” She sank like a stone then bobbed back up, gasping, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair. “Argh! You!”
She threw herself at her husband like a linebacker, knocking him backward. He roared with happy delight. “Now this is Nantucket!”
“Nantucket! Ha!” She splashed him with both her palms, then dragged herself out of the water, pausing briefly to straighten her sarong. Then she marched back to the umbrella, took her beach towel, and headed for the house.
“Daneen!” Kirk called after her. He waded out of the surf with upturned hands. “Come on, hon. It was all in fun.”
She appeared anything but amused.
Ryan felt sorry for his dad.
As she passed Ryan, two bright-pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “Not one word.”
No problem. He was speechless. So was Mads, apparently, since her mouth hung open.
Ryan’s dad was quick on his mom’s heels. “Daneen, sweetheart,” he pleaded, following her up the steps. “Let’s talk this over.”
But his mom just kept going.
Twelve
Neither of Ryan’s parents had apparently done much talking by dinnertime. The tension in the kitchen was so thick you could cut it with a carving knife. At least the meal was decent. They’d picked up fresh shrimp from the fish market in town and his mom had steamed it, since they’d had to put their burgers on hold due to the Machados’ use of the grill. Ryan had prepared the baked potatoes, and Maddy’d made the salad. His dad had fixed the martinis, but his parents hadn’t chatted over cocktails as usual.
His dad stayed at the kitchen island glued to his tablet and grousing over the day’s stock market returns while his mom stepped out on the deck, trying to avoid Mr. Machado’s curious gaze as he sat on a sofa. Evita’s dad was supposedly working on a crossword puzzle on a folded-up section of newspaper, but he didn’t appear to be having much luck filling it in.
Maddy peeled another shrimp and dipped it in melted butter. “Good shrimp,” she said to no one in particular.
“Hmm, yes,” his dad said. He peeled a few for himself and dunked them in cocktail sauce. “Nice and fresh.” He continued speaking without looking at his wife. “Expertly prepared, Daneen.”
She harrumphed and sliced open her baked potato, slathering on some sour cream. “Did somebody say something?” She peered around the kitchen and very purposely past her husband’s shoulder.
Maddy rolled her eyes at Ryan, and he shook his head.
“Great salad, Mads.”
“Thanks, bro.”
His dad took a forkful of greens in creamy dressing. “It is good. My compliments. To you too, Ryan, on the potatoes.”
Nobody said anything else for the longest while.
“How about those Red Sox?” Ryan joked in an effort to lighten the mood.
His mom and dad stared at him, and he winced. “You know,” Ryan said. “I think I’m just about finished with my food.” He glanced at Maddy.
She abruptly scooted back her stool. “Yeah! Me too.”
They both got up, carrying their plates to the sink.
“But you haven’t finished,” his mom said.
Oh yeah, he had. Ryan was so past done with this.
Talk about an appetite suppressant. Watching his parents fight—but not fight.
“I was thinking,” Ryan said to Maddy, sending her silent signals with his eyes. “We could go out for a bike ride?”
“Sure.”
“Wait,” their mom said. “Now?”
Maddy glanced over her shoulder. “We’ll help with the dishes when we get back.”
“From having ice cream,” Ryan whispered to her as they scurried toward the door.
She raced outside ahead of him, breaking into giggles.
“I know.” Ryan shook his head. “That was bad.”
“I don’t know why Mom’s so mad,” she said. “I think it was sort of cute and flirty what Dad did.”
Ryan exhaled. “Don’t think she views it that way.”
Maddy’s blue eyes widened. “Maybe she’ll change her mind?”
“Maybe.”
They passed the grill, which emitted mouth-watering scents.
“Wow, that smells good,” Maddy said.
He unlocked the shed and they took out the bikes. “Yeah, but we’ll make up for it with a double hot fudge sundae.”
“Yum!”
He smirked. “I thought you didn’t like ice cream?”
“Love it.” She snapped the chin strap on her bike helmet. “Just don’t like being treated like a child.”
She was still his kid sister, but he got what she was saying. “You’re not a kid to me.”
“I know that now. Thanks.” She hopped on her bike and took off pedaling. She didn’t even know her way into town though. Luckily, he did. He put on his helmet and took off after her.
“Hey, Mads! Wait for me!”
***
Evita and her family didn’t see much of the Hatfields after their episode on the beach. They had an early dinner and had cleared out of downstairs by the time she finished her shower.
Except. Wait. Was that Mr. Hatfield standing in the foyer with a hangdog look? He leaned into his suite’s door with one hand and knocked lightly with the other. “Seriously, sweetheart,” he said in hushed tones. “I said I was sorry.”
Whoa. She’d locked him out? Poor Mr. Hatfield. How humiliating. Especially with them all sharing this one cramped cottage.
Evita’s dad rolled his eyes at her from the sofa. Since he’d been in here the whole time, Evita guessed he’d witnessed a bit of Hatfield drama. He set down his crossword puzzle and got to his feet. “I think I’ll go check on that pork butt,” he said aloud but more to himself. He crossed through the foyer, and Mr. Hatfield stepped aside with an embarrassed frown.
“Roses always work for me.” He tossed his gruff comment into the air as if it had no intended target, but it very strategically landed on Mr. Hatfield’s ears.
“Roses? But where—?”
Her dad motioned to the front door, and Evita hid her giggle.
What was this? Her dad was helping Mr. Hatfield?
But why? Because he couldn’t stand to see another husband in the marital doghouse, she surmised. She was dying to know what would happen but couldn’t stand here staring a moment longer. When she returned from changing into her clothes, the outcome was clear.
Mr. Hatfield was no longer in the hallway, and a few tell-tale flower clippings sat on the countertop and in the kitchen sink.
Her dad arrived with his pork butt which looked—and smelled—cooked to perfection. They would be eating late tonight, and Evita’s brothers and their families mingled on the deck, holding piña coladas and admiring the blood-orange and purple-streaked horizon.
Nanny and Quique had been tasked with shucking the corn into paper grocery bags and seemed to be taking their jobs seriously, their foreheads furrowed in concentration.
“That looks fantastic,” she told her dad about his masterpiece.
“I hope it will be.”
“Want some help?”
“Maybe with cutting the melon?”
“Sure.” She took the honeydew from the refrigerator and located a cutting board, rinsing the fruit and getting to work. “Saw you talking to Mr. Hatfield earlier.”
Her dad was busy pulling the pork butt apart using two large forks. Savory scents wafted toward her on a warm cloud of steam. “Hmm.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Nobody likes to be locked out of their bedroom.” He said that like he’d had experience with the situation himself, but she was not about to pry. Just thinking about her parents—ick. She scrunched up her lips. No. She wouldn’t go there.
“So. Ryan and Maddy aren’t around. I guess they turned in early?” She sliced the melon in half, seeding it and cutting her wedges into cubes, while depositing them in a large salad bowl.
“They didn’t turn in.” His eyebrows knitted together as he gently tugged the pork into shreds. “They took out the bikes.”
“Oh nice.” It was fun to think of Ryan and his kid sister doing stuff together. They’d probably not had lots of opportunity for that in the past.
Her dad shook his head. “Wasn’t so nice the way it happened.”
She finished with the melon and washed her hands. “What do you mean?”
Her dad looked up and sighed. “Their parents had a fight at dinner. Something about Daneen being embarrassed, and then Kirk claiming she’d embarrassed him with her reaction.”
Evita twisted the dishtowel in her hands. “Uh-oh.”
“That’s why their kids skedaddled out of here.”
Evita frowned. “I almost feel sorry for Mr. Hatfield.”
“Oh. I don’t know about that.” He stared at the ceiling, evidently recalling something happy. “Making up can be very sweet.”
Evita gasped and shoved his shoulder. “Dad!”
He chuckled at her reaction. “There may be snow on this roof, but there’s still fire in the hatch, Evita.”
Okay. Well, good. She didn’t want to dwell on that. Ick. Ick. Ick.
Or on Mr. and Mrs. Hatfield either. Ahhh. Nope.
“In any case.” He finished with the pork and set his forks aside. “Ryan and Maddy probably won’t be gone much longer.” He glanced out the window. “It will be dark soon.”
That was good because Evita was dying to talk to Ryan. She still didn’t know what had been said during their brunch and wanted to congratulate him for making strides with Maddy.
“Don’t be too obviously interested in Ryan’s whereabouts,” her dad warned. “You know how your mom feels about that, and she’s still coming around.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Cordial is fine,” he said. “Romantic? Not so fine. Not yet, Evita.”
Evita bristled at his interference. “But you said you trusted my judgment!”
“I do.” He lowered his eyebrows. “Which is why I trust you not to antagonize your mom.” Right. Which meant Evita needed to have a talk with her mom, just like she’d had with her dad. As soon as possible too. Whenever she could find a private moment for the two of them in this ultra-crowded house.
“Gee, Dad,” Evita hissed in low tones. “It’s not like I’m angling to get romantic with Ryan.”
His eyebrows arched, and Evita licked her lips.
“Okay,” she said on a breath. “But not anytime soon.”
Liar. If he asked you out, you’d go in a heartbeat.
No. No. Not in a heartbeat.
Her heart beat double-time.
Okay, yeah. Maybe.
Her mom walked into the kitchen, looking fresh and pretty after her shower. “Pablo, your pork smells amazing.” She took a small pinch in her fingers and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm! Tastes amazing too!” She reached back into the pan, but Pablo playfully swatted her wrist.
“Stop that, Lissette. You’ll have to wait along with the others.”
She kissed his cheek. “If I must.” She turned to Evita. “What’s left to do?”
“Not much and besides,” she said, because this had been the prior agreement between her dad and her siblings, “tonight is your night off.”
“Most definitely.” Her dad reached into the freezer for his pitcher of piña coladas. “Let me pour you a drink.”
She preened like a princess. “That would be lovely.”
Her dad held up the pitcher. “Evita?”
“Yes, please!”
By the time Ryan and Maddy returned, Evita and her family had all sat down to dinner in the dining room and dusk had fallen outdoors. “How was your bike ride?” Evita asked them.
Maddy answered first. “Really fun.” She yawned and covered her mouth. “But I’m whipped. I think I’ll head upstairs.” Evita knew she had a TV in her room. All the bedrooms were outfitted that way, except for Quique and Nanny’s since Chachi had removed the cable as a proactive measure. Otherwise, the kids might have stayed up all night watching things, some of which might not have been suitable for their young eyes.
Evita had the impulse to ask Ryan to sit down and join her, even though he’d clearly eaten. Just to enjoy a drink and conversation. But things weren’t yet to that level in this house. A slow thaw had begun between the Hatfields and the Machados, but there hadn’t been a total ice melt by any means. Besides that, her mom might not appreciate her inviting Ryan to sit down at their table. This was her special night off, and Evita didn’t want to make waves.
“Yeah, it was nice,” Ryan answered. “Good ride.” His gaze roved over the table. “I think I’ll head on up too. You all enjoy your meal.”
Everyone said good night, and Ryan followed Maddy upstairs, pausing briefly on the staircase. He glanced over his shoulder at Evita and she raised her eyebrows at him. But she guessed there wasn’t much he was going to say in this public venue. So he just waved and turned away. Evita’s heart sank. She’d hoped to spend time with him tonight. Get a chance to talk in private. She took her phone out under the table and dashed off a quick text.
Meet up later?
“Evita,” her mom said. “I hope you’re not texting at the table?”
“No, uh.” She deftly put away her phone. “Just checking the weather.”
“And?” her dad asked her.
“Tomorrow’s another beautiful day!”
***
Thunder clouds boomed, rousing Ryan from his slumber. He removed his earplugs and was greeted by the clatter of rain against the roof and gusts slamming the windows. What a storm. He checked his phone for the time. It was nearly midnight. Wait.
There was a text from Evita. She’d sent it hours ago, but he’d missed it. Great. That probably meant she thought he’d seen it but ignored her. Which he was not inclined to do. He hadn’t been able to get the woman out of his head since first seeing her on Saturday.
He set his feet on the floor and switched on the light. Maybe she was still up? If she wasn’t though, he didn’t want to wake her. Ryan raked a hand through his hair, his gaze skimming the earplugs on his nightstand. She’d be using those too. So if she’d gone to bed, his text wouldn’t disturb her.
Sorry. Just saw your text. Still up? He stared at his phone, willing a response to materialize, then he saw the tiny typing dots. Yes.
Yeah.
Everyone else in bed? he queried.
Evita’s text lit up Ryan’s phone. Think so. The house is quiet. A split second later. Apart from the wicked storm.
He decided to go ahead and ask. Midnight snack?
It didn’t take her long to answer. Sounds good.
Nice. He offered to go downstairs first. I’ll check it out and text an all-clear.
Hurry! My battery’s dying. Left my charger in the dining room.
Right. He had to move fast. Ryan crept to the pocket doors. Holding his breath, he knocked lightly then waited a beat before sliding them open. Chachi and Kendra spooned together under the covers, sleeping soundly. Ryan tiptoed past them in the dim glow of the nightlight streaming in from the bathroom. Then, gripping his phone, he slipped out the door and into the darkened hallway.
Winds howling up from the beach slammed against the house, and rain sliced sideways into the big glass windows as he eased down the spiral stairs.
The great room stood in shadows sweeping eerily in from the tumultuous sea. He scanned the kitchen and then the dining area. The front foyer too. Empty. He texted Evita, then waited. No response. He waited some more, pacing between the two seating areas while gripping his arms at the elbows. The storm raged outdoors, thrashing the ocean this way and that, creating enormous, angry-looking waves.
He stared down at his phone. Still nothing.
Then he saw Evita’s charger on this side of the dining room table plugged into an outlet in the wall. Argh. Her phone had to have died before she’d gotten his last message. Maybe she’d chance it and come down anyway? Or maybe she’d worry that her parents were up and out here, after being awakened by the storm? He was wide awake now himself. And she was probably up there waiting for his signal.
He studied the spiral staircase on the side leading up to Robby and Eunice’s suite. He couldn’t really go up and walk through their room. That would be creepy, and Robby might wake up and slug him, believing him to be an intruder.
A pail of seashells sat under the covered porch portion. They didn’t belong to anyone here, as they’d been there when he and his folks had arrived at the house. So some other family had forgotten them or intentionally left them behind. He had a decent throwing arm and had pitched some ball in high school. Maybe if he hit Evita’s window just right, he could get her attention? The screen would prevent it from breaking. It was worth a shot. He’d need to get a few shells first and then leave through the front door since her room faced the drive.
Ryan grabbed his rain jacket from the coat closet and slid it on, then headed for the deck.
Thirteen
“Psst. Ryan? What are you doing?” Evita wore shorts and a baggy pink sweatshirt that said “Blooming.” It had the stenciled outline of a rose on it. She’d been so stealthy in her descent he hadn’t heard her coming down the stairs.
