“Stop it,” Nancy scolded the two men. “Family is all we have. You two need to be nicer to each other.”
The two brothers glared at each other. Grant knew what happened when men like the Holbrooks started drinking. Soon, there was going to be a drunken screaming match and potentially a fight, depending on how much alcohol they had consumed.
He stood up and said awkwardly, “I guess I’ll turn in.”
He let Gus out and then went up the creaking stairs. Kate was sound asleep, and he gingerly lowered himself down on the small twin bed beside her.
The next morning, the sun streamed in through the window, and Kate was punching at him.
“Ugh, it’s so hot! I’m drenched in sweat,” she said.
Grant yawned. He did feel overheated. “Guess this bed’s not that great for two people, especially not two people and a dog.”
Gus was half wedged in the space between the bed and the wall.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Grant asked as he stretched.
“I don’t know,” Kate said, pushing herself off of the bed. “I’m not your assistant.”
After she scolded him for standing too close to her as he watched her fix her hair, they went down to the high-end rustic kitchen for breakfast.
“We will be having dinner with the Fitzhughs,” Nancy informed them. “They invited us.”
Grant didn’t want to have dinner with Brandy and her family, but from Nancy’s tone, he decided it wasn’t optional.
Grant scrolled through the messages on his phone.
“There’s the party on the beach around lunchtime,” he said. “Brandy said it’s going to be mainly people you two went to school with. We’re meeting on the beach and grilling. We have to bring drinks and snacks.”
“That will be fun,” Nancy said. “You two should go. Grant can meet some younger people.”
After gathering their contributions, Kate and Grant walked over to the beach. Kate slipped her arm in Grant’s, and they walked along the wide paths in a comfortable silence. Being on Martha’s Vineyard felt like being in another place, he thought, a place where all the stressors of his life didn’t matter anymore.
Cracks appeared in the illusion, however, when they neared the beach and Grant heard a horse whinny.
“Oh no,” Kate said as they neared the group.
Fernando, the Argentinean polo player, was there. Grant scowled.
“Be nice,” Kate warned and kicked through the sand to the party, Grant following behind her.
“Glad you made it!” Eric Davenport said when he saw them.
Grant forced himself to put on a friendly face and shook Eric’s hand. Then he was introduced to the rest of the party-goers.
“I was wondering where everyone my age was,” he said. “Do your parents keep you all locked in the basement?”
Several girls giggled.
One young man said, “We do havejobs.”
“No, you don’t!” his friend hooted.
“I’m a blogger!” the young man said and launched himself at his friend, tackling him in the sand.
A pretty young woman came up, and Kate told Grant, “This is the friend I was telling you about who writes the blog reviewing Michelin restaurants.”
“Anastasia,” the woman introduced herself. She was tall and elfin, like a model.
