That night before Nash and I crawl into bed, I get a text from Reese:I’ll forget about you being a bastard if you get Mom and Remy away from me. Mom’s trying to set me up with every blue-collared boy walking down the street (does she even know me? Tumor must be bigger than we thought) and Remy’s weirder than usual. I think something’s going on with her and Darren because she keeps saying everything is “so great” in that high-pitched voice. You know the annoying one she uses when everything isn’t “so great”? Bennie’s good. Can she still be my niece even if you aren’t my sister? See you in two days.
I laugh, typing,Mom lied about Cap knowing about me—her whole brain might need to be removed. I would say I can’t wait to see everyone, but I forgot you were coming along.
She sends me a picture of her middle finger.
I can’t wait for them to get here.
Forty
Cap, Nash, and I once again crowd around Nash’s kitchen counter, the documents surrounding the missing gold spread across it.
“We’re missing something,” I say, exchanging one paper for another.
Cap grunts and Nash sips his coffee.
At this point, even if I didn’t need the money, I want to figure this out. I’ve been here less than two weeks and I’m as frustrated as I am compelled by it. I have no idea how Cap has spent his life chasing something that feels right there without ever managing to grasp it.
“What’s Bennie’s favorite color?” Nash asks, refilling his coffee. Now that he knows about her, he’s so far gone from what Anson Burns did or didn’t do, I’ve cut my losses. He got me into the places I needed, but now he’s a new dad too distracted to be of any use. “And food?”
“Pink.” I reskim Anson’s letter, mentally reconfirming we did everything right at the places he listed. “And she’s seven—pizza.”
“I like pizza,” Cap says—like that has a damn thing to do with a damn thing. He chokes out a cough that brings his palm to his side. “What time will your mom be here tomorrow?”
I sigh, frustrated, looking up from the letter. “I already told you. Tomorrow afternoon. Am I on my own here?”
They blink at me, perplexed.
“Nash, you’ve mentally left me for Bennie. Dad, you’ve asked me about Mom a million times. I only have a few more days here.” I gesture at them with the letter in my hand. “And I’m still broke.”
“I was thinking we could have a party,” Nash says, ignoring me. “Kids could play in the pool. Sunny. Your sisters and mom.”
“I love parties,” Cap pipes in.
“What?” I blow my bangs out of my face. “What for? We have”—I sweep a hand across papers in front of us that I’m the only one paying attention to—“all this.”
“Oh!” Nash snaps his fingers, eyes brighter than his flamingo-covered shirt. “What about a Lowcountry boil?”
“Aha!” Cap says with an elated tap of his cane. “Know a shrimper at the marina that can get us the best on the coast. Mind if I invite Danimal?”
I frown; Nash laughs. “I’d never turn a man down named Danimal. Your mom likes seafood right, Rue? And your sisters?”
I could scream.
At these.
Morons.
“Maybe we should invite Anson Burns while we’re at it,” I say through a tight smile.
Cap bats a hand through the air. “We’ll get to that. How about oysters, Nash?”
“Not anrmonth,” Nash says, contemplating. “Might be hard to get good ones local. Oyster bars import.”
Cap thinks this is a very good point because he scrubs his beard and looks at the ceiling like it’s where the quality of local oysters will be revealed. “I’ll see what they say on the docks.”
“Good call.” To me: “What about for the kids?”
“The kids?”
