On the other hand, I do love the sense of abundance. My father has always cultivated a sense ofmoney, which is not the same thing at all. The big difference is that he never wanted to share what we had with anyone who couldn’t prove that they were already his financial equal. I guess it was his way of insuring that he could always expect others to court him with just as much extravagance, inviting him to all the best parties, and wooing him with memberships to all the best clubs.
Sometimes I still wonder if Margot is really his daughter, because even though she enjoys the finer things as much as anyone else, she’d probably host an entire orphanage for the cookout here today if given the opportunity, and not give it a second thought. God knows we have enough food to feed one.
Stirling rushes to help us as we step into the kitchen.
“Oh my gosh, honey, why didn’t you text me you were on your way home, or honk when you got here?” he says, as he takes both bags from Margot’s arms. “I knew I should have gone with you.”
“Don’t sweat it, babe,” Margot answers. “If you can tear yourself away from preparing your offering to the barbecue gods, there’s several more bags in the car.
“I’m on it,” he says, and plants a firm kiss on her lips. Not one that says they’ve been married for years either. I can’t help but notice how his lips are parted slightly and capture Margot’s in a way that shows how passionate he still is for her, and that he plans to fully act on it later.
First, I chastise myself for paying too close attention to the way my sister’s husband kisses her. Then I berate myself for imagining how different this vacation would be if Damon and I hadn’t broken up. Then this would beourhome that Margot and her family were visiting. Damon would be helpingmewith the groceries and covering my mouth with his, letting just the tip of his tongue snake out to taste my lips like he was tasting the appetizer before the feast he’d have later.
“Can I help with those, Aunt Amanda?” Cammie had come to my rescue this time, jarring me back to the reality that this isn’t my house and that Damon will never kiss me like that again.
“Sure, sweetie,” I say, and hand her the lighter of the two bags I’m holding. “You okay with this one?” I’m grateful for the help, but I’m not into child labor.
“Yeah, I’ve got it,” she says. I really admire this kid, she’s always so positive about everything. “We’re gonna have so much fun today! I asked Dad if we were going to roast a whole pig like at a real luau. But he said that since Grandpa and Aunt Emily won’t be here, he doesn’t feel the need to go to such lengths.”
I almost laugh out when I hear that. Stirling has always had Father’s number, so to speak, and while it would be wonderful to have a traditional luau for our cookout today, there’s no way he would roast an entire pig unless he felt he had to impress my father. I do see, however, two huge slabs of pork in giant foil pans. Stirling had been oiling and seasoning them when we got home, so we are going to have some amazing pulled pork today.
A breeze kicks up, and that’s when I notice that the accordion patio doors are open. If I thought the back yard was beautiful last night, it’s nothing compared to the slice of heaven it is in daylight. I can’t help but abandon my duty unpacking groceries and wandering out there.
The view in every direction takes my breath away. The colors in the lush foliage are stunning, especially with the ocean in the distance on the horizon. The pool area looks like a luxury hotel—there must be room for a hundred people back here when you count the lower garden with paths and seating. And the massive outdoor kitchen includes two sinks, a full bar with seating, and a huge grill that looks like it’s hardly been used. All for the five of us. Stirling will love being the master chef and bartender out here.
The heady combined fragrance of jasmine, plumeria and salt water follows me down to the lower garden. I pause and take a few deep breaths, allowing myself to truly drink in my surroundings.Itisbeautiful, and Iamon vacation, I think to myself. There’s no reason I should allow an awkward turn of events to spoil it for me, despite the pain it’s dredging up.
There’s an archway at the back of the garden that no doubt leads to the path down to the beach. I make a mental note to explore it later today. Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe I’m meant to face what I’ve done to Damon and help us both heal.
But for now, the guilt I feel for leaving Cammie to unpack the groceries I brought in sends me back up the hill. As I come back around the pool to the covered patio, I see Margot coming out to the outdoor kitchen with a blender in one hand and a woven bowl of various fruits in the other.
“Hey, I wondered where you’d gotten off to,” she calls to me. “It’s amazing out here, isn’t it?”
“It really is. Sorry I shirked my grocery duties,” I say.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Cam and Stirling and I got everything unpacked, and most of it is staying out on the countertops to use for cooking.”
“Um, I take it you’re not planning another fruit salad with that. You know it’s not even ten a.m. yet, right?”
“And you know that ‘vacation’ equals ‘day drinking’ right?” she laughs. “Besides, have you seen Damon’s—um, the liquor cabinet? It’s too good to go to waste. I’ll wait until eleven until I start blending, deal?”
“Deal,” I say. “In the meantime, I’ll settle for an iced tea.”
I head inside to grab a quick shower and change out of my pajamas, although lounging by the pool for the rest of the day in my pj’s doesn’t sound half bad. When I get back, I can smell the pork roasting in the oven. Stirling is manning the grill outside and tending to a variety of things for our lunch, including chicken and veggie kabobs, salmon, burgers, and brats. Cammie and Margot are laughing and talking animatedly as they prepare all of our favorite sides—or at least they would have been our favorite sides, if our family had actually celebrated the Fourth of July—like potato salad and deviled eggs. And I think I smell baked beans in the oven with the pork. I guess we’ll just be eating in shifts, with pulled barbecue pork tonight for dinner.
The mood is fantastic, and between joining Cammie and Margot with food prep, then hanging by the pool and bantering with Stirling while he grills, I may be distracted enough from my woes to actually enjoy myself.
I opt for a long island iced tea instead of a plain one, and by the time the first round of burgers comes off the grill, I’m feeling dandy. We all gather up around the long table on the covered patio to eat. The salmon and kabobs look divine, but I’m going for broke today. Father would have frowned on any of us eating anything so gauche as a cheeseburger, so I ask Stirling to put extra cheese on mine while it’s still on the grill, and pile it high with toppings, including a handful of potato chips. God, it’s good.
“Where’s Sylvia, still pouting about being in paradise instead of with her boyfriend?” I ask rudely with a mouthful of cheeseburger.
“Well, she did come down briefly while you two were at the store this morning,” says Stirling. “I asked her to spend a little time with us at some point today, so she’ll show up eventually.”
I nod and make a mental note not to hold my breath. The afternoon melts away into blended drinks, bobbing in the pool and long conversations with Stirling and Margot that oddly enough don’t involve talking about Damon or my love life. Eventually, the others head inside, Cammie to watch a movie, Margot to sneak in some work, and Stirling to start shredding the roast pork. In a pina colada-induced haze, I drift off into the best nap of my life in my lounge chair by the pool.
When I wake up, the sun has started to set, and I see Margot switching the on the strings of lanterns on the patio. She waves at me and I haul myself up and shake off the fog of my nap as I head back inside.
“Looks likesomebodyhad a good nap,” says Margot as I walk into the kitchen.
