For once, Zoey agreed with him. “Yeah, it is. If you give me a hand, we could install the window screens earlier than usual this year.”
“I think Ivy hired a guy to come and do that in a couple of weeks,” Mark said, missing her point. Or ignoring it on purpose.
“But if we do it ourselves, she doesn’t have to pay someone else.”
“The kid’s a high school student. The same one who takes care of the lawn. He probably needs to earn the money.”
That’s a convenient excuse,Zoey thought, as the moment of camaraderie they just experienced seemed to dissipate into thin air. “Have you ever considered that maybe Aunt Ivy needs tosavemoney? She’s on a fixed income, you know.”
“She’s hardly strapped for cash. She’s got a trust fund,” Mark replied.
“You don’t know how much of that she has left or what she might need to reserve for the future if she gets sick or needs long-term care.”
“If it means that much to you, fine, put the screens in yourself. I’ll tell the kid’s dad not to bother sending him over here.”
Zoey was about to say shecouldn’tput them in herself—she was too short, that’s why she needed Mark’s help—when what he’d said sunk in. “How do you know so much about who she hired?”Don’t tell me—Aunt Ivy asked you for help with the screens and you pawned the job off on someone else.
“His father’s a buddy of mine from high school. He takes care of all Ivy’s repairs—and he did her flooring in the spare room last spring. We’re meeting on Friday to discuss the kitchen renovations.”
“Wa-wait a second,” Zoey stuttered. “Whatrenovations?”
“I just told you.Kitchenrenovations,” Mark said drolly. “You know, granite countertops, new cabinets. Maybe we’ll even knock out that wall, open the space up.”
“Whose idea is that?”As if I have to ask.
“I was the one who brought it up after the incident with the gas, but Ivy seems to agree it’s a good idea—who wouldn’t? That room is hideous.”
On one hand, Mark had a point. With its dark cupboards, yellow laminate countertops and brown appliances, the kitchen’s 1970s design was appallingly outdated. And it was completely incompatible with the style of the other rooms. So Zoey didn’t blame Mark for wishing their aunt would make some alternations.
In fact, years ago she’d spent her summer vacation trying to convince Ivy to remodel the kitchen, too. Or at the very least, to allow Zoey to paint the cupboards. But she backed off after Ivy confided the reason she couldn’t bear to change the room. Apparently, the water damage that necessitated the renovation in the 1970s had occurred shortly after Sylvia’s son, Marcus Jr., got married and moved off the island permanently. Sylvia was absolutely despondent from missing him, but after Ivy got her involved in planning the remodel, she began to perk up. Sylvia had taken special delight in choosing the yellow color scheme, which she said made her feel as if it was sunny inside the house no matter what the weather outside was like. Decades later, Ivy still refused to re-do the room, knowing how much designing it had meant to her sister-in-law.
Now that Sylvia had died, Zoey anticipated that her aunt would be even more resistant to making unnecessary alterations to the kitchen. So, while Zoey personally hated the décor as much or more than Mark did, she wasn’t going to let him force Ivy to change something that held so much sentimental value for her.
“She might need a new stove, but countertops and cabinets? Knocking out a wall? No way. She loves this house the way things are.”
“She may be ready for a change.”
“Everyone knows it’s unwise for people to make major changes or decisions when they’re grieving. I don’t want Aunt Ivy to do something now that she regrets later, when she’s thinking more clearly. What’s the rush, anyway?”
It was a stupid question. Zoey knew what the rush was; Mark wanted to get a jump start on profiting from his inheritance. Why wait until Ivy died to begin renovations, when he could literally pull the rug out from under her now? This way he could lease the house out the moment she passed away. And although the house would go to Mark, any money their aunt had leftover from her trust fund would be divided equally between him, Zoey and Gabi. So it was in his best interest to have Ivy pay for the renovations now, instead of footing the bill later himself.
“No rush. No need to get all worked up about it, either. Like I said, we’re just going to discuss it with the carpenter. He’s not bringing a wrecking ball with him.” Mark casually yawned, stretching his arms.
Zoey hated it when he dropped a bombshell like that and then implied she was blowing things out of proportion. Especially in front of people like Gabi, who weren’t familiar with how crafty he could be when he wanted his way.But Zoey refused to allow him to make her look bad. So when he changed the subject to ask if she’d made lunch yet, instead of telling him off, she just shrugged. “There’s tuna in the pantry. Help yourself.”
“You’re not making something special for Gabi’s first day here?” Ivy and Sylvia had always made “special” meals to welcome their guests to Dune Island, as well as when it came time to say goodbye—and for any occasion they could think of in-between. Even though Mark knew Zoey wasn’t much of a cook, he apparently assumed because she was an aunt, she’d carry on this tradition. But the way he was playing the guilt card on her for his own benefit was so obvious it was almost laughable.
“Yes, I do intend to make a nice meal forGabi. But I thought I’d wait until suppertime, since we had such a big brunch.”
Gabi leaped up. “I can make tuna fish sandwiches for all of us.”
“Thank you, Gabi. That’s really nice of you.” For being an absolute ingrate, Mark could sound genuinely appreciative when it suited him, the big phony.
“Itisnice, but you don’t have to make lunch for us on yourfirst day here,Gabi,” Zoey said, throwing her cousin’s words back at him.
“I don’t mind. I’m hungry, too.” Gabi was inching toward the door.
“You kids are hungry already?” Ivy asked as she teetered into the room. She was always a little unsteady when she first got out of bed or rose from a chair. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “No wonder. It’s half past one. You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long. I’ll go fix you something.”
