“This is the song you played me,” I say, when I recognize the melody.
“‘Clair de Lune,’” he says. “It was my mom’s favorite.”
“Oh, I—”
“Dinner is ready, everyone!” Wesley’s mom calls out, stifling our conversation and the sound of the piano. Everyone starts to file into the dining room to sit at the long table in the center and we get up from the bench to join them. Each seat holds a red placemat, with more silverware than I would think needed for a dinner, around a gold-trimmed plate with a fancy folded napkin adorned with holly. I take a seat next to Asher, with Danielle on the other side of me, and Asher’s dad directly across. He gives me a wink as he sits down and I look away immediately.
A man stands at the end of the table, looking almost identical to Asher’s dad but shorter and thinner. I recognize him from Wesley’s photos: It’s his dad.
“It’s so great that we could have almost all of our family here this weekend, along with some new friends. And what better time than the fiftieth-anniversary week of the resort being open. It warms my heart that in just a few short months it’ll be in the hands of my son and the legacy will continue—”
“And Asher’s,” Ben interrupts.
Wesley’s dad cuts a look to Ben, his brother. “Well, I mean, if Wes decides to take him on as an employee, then I guess so, but seeing as I’ve managed to handle it on my own, I don’t see any reason—”
“It is a family business, John.” Ben stops him again. “Let’s not be so quick to cut out family.”
“Dad,” Asher says, shaking his head.
“Don’t interrupt me.”
“You just interrupted Uncle John twice,” he says back, and I kick him under the table as the room grows quiet. Everyone sips their drinks with their eyes down, trying to wish away the tension.
“So you’re taking his side?” Ben asks Asher.
John clears his throat. “There are no sides, Ben. Let’s just enjoy this dinner, shall we? Wes, do you want to add anything?”
Asher looks at Wes now. “Yes, Wesley, is there anything you want to add? About the business, or just your plans for after college?”
Wes stands and clears his throat. “Yes, actually there is.”
I suck in a breath. Is he really going to do this now? Asher is practically on the edge of his seat.
Wes raises his glass of wine. “I am...” He looks around the room and stops when he sees his father’s proud face. “I am excited for what the future holds. Cheers! To family,” he says. The rest of the table raises their now almost empty glasses. I glance over at Asher, who remains unmoving; he does not raise a glass, he does not say cheers. Servers come around with soup and salads and idle chatter continues on both sides of the table.
“Asher, see me in the study after dinner,” his father says as heswirls around one of the large gold rings on his fingers. His tone reminds me of a teacher asking a student to stay after class. And not in a good way. More like ayou just failed a testkind of way.
Asher just sighs. A few seats down I watch Wesley’s mom look like she might say something but then decide not to. I look down the table to see Annica looking at me with eyes that saySee? Told you.
The main course of ham, potatoes, and a vegetable medley is served while Jake and Charlie regale the table with a long tale about how they lost Wes on last year’s spring break trip to Cancún, which I did not attend because I couldn’t afford it, but the story sounds very similar toThe Hangover. Wes buries his red face in his hands as everyone chuckles, his own grandpa nearly choking on his food for how hard he laughs. When it’s quiet again, Wesley’s brother-in-law brings up the one thing I was hoping wouldn’t come up.
“So what’s going on at your school and that kid that was stabbed? Did they catch the guy who did it?”
I choke on my wine and begin to cough. Dani pats my back.
“No, not yet,” Wes answers. “I don’t know if they ever will either. They can’t even nail down who was all there.”
Sam shoots Asher and me a pointed look.
“What a shame,” his mother says.
“Yeah, Marissa is pretty close to the case because she’s in that club, and she said they have like no leads,” Wes says.
No leads still? Somehow that brings me relief.
“Speaking of Marissa,” Marceline says. “Where is she? I was hoping to witness a proposal this weekend.”
Now it’s Wesley’s turn to nearly choke on his drink. A proposal?Was Wes planning on proposing? Our friend group is silent, staring at him anxiously, awaiting an answer.
