“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Their mother didn’t wait for an answer, just threw open the front door and ushered the women through. “I’m not waiting around all day, ladies! Come on!”
There was a flurry of goodbyes, a sympathetic look from Jane to Lizzy, and a final moan from Lydia before the door closed behind them with a ring of its tinny bell.
And just like that, the bakery was quiet again, with only Fleetwood Mac’sRumoursstill playing overhead.
CHAPTER 4
When Bob Bennet had mentioned that locals called Charlie’s house Marv’s Lament, Will hadn’t given it much thought. But after their car left the bakery and made its way down Lily Pond Lane, past the long line of multimillion-dollar wood-shingled estates tucked safely behind manicured privet hedgerows, it all made sense.
The house, which loomed over the end of a long driveway, was a steel-and-glass monstrosity, rising up from the manicured lawn like a half-finished construction site.
“Here we are!” Charlie announced like a kid showing off a shiny new toy.
He leapt out but Will took his time, collecting his jacket and putting his sunglasses on before emerging. The white gravel stones of the driveway crunched loudly with each step as he walked to where Charlie was gaping up at the angular facade.
On paper, the house checked every box: expansive grounds, obligatory swimming pool, private beachfront access, too many windows to count, and a flat slat roof with overhangs that seemed to be miraculously suspended by God himself. In person, it wasabout as far from the Hamptons as you could get. And nothing Will would have picked himself.
Thankfully, he hadn’t been forced to. Even though Will had spent every summer of his childhood just twenty minutes further up the coast at his family’s beach house in Montauk—and was now spending too much time renovating it—he had little interest in helping Charlie and his sisters navigate the Hamptons real estate market. When they asked, he simply passed along his aunt’s information. Birdie Carrington had made a name for herself in real estate out east, building one of the most prestigious agencies on Long Island. Will knew she would salivate at the chance to find the Pierces the perfect beachfront rental, and sure enough, just three weeks after Annabelle contacted her, she had the Pierces signing a three-month lease before Charlie had even seen a picture.
“Wow, it’s… big,” Charlie said, his hands on his hips. Billowing hydrangeas framed the path up to the looming front door, but they did nothing to soften the structure’s hard lines. “But beautiful. It’s beautiful, right?”
Will glared up at it. He usually didn’t mince words, but in the interest of time, he made an exception.
“Let’s find your sisters.”
That was the only prompting Charlie needed. He bounded up the front steps while Will followed behind.
“Annabelle? Viv?” Charlie called out as he opened the front door.
The foyer was cavernous, but it was merely a hint of the space beyond: an enormous sunken living room with a grand piano and a sprawling chef’s kitchen on the left. As Will walked forward, staff—cleaning crews carrying sheets and towels up a wide staircase, movers lifting a long white sofa across the living room—buzzed around him.
None of it distracted from the panoramic views of the beach just a few yards away, though. Sunlight reflected off the ocean onto every surface in the place through the building’s glass walls. Will stopped at the sliding doors that were open to the pool, filling the space with the smell of salt and sand.
“Took you long enough,” Annabelle announced, appearing from a nearby hallway. Her brown hair was up in her signature ponytail to showcase what Will could only assume were new honey-colored highlights. A long beach dress hung loosely over her thin frame. “I thought the whole point of flying was to get here faster.” Before either of them could reply, her attention snagged on the group of movers in the living room. “The sofa is fine. We need to move the piano to the corner!”
The men set the sofa down and moved to roll the piano to the far corner of the room. Will frowned. The piano was just about the only thing he liked about the place. Now it was almost completely hidden. Then again, that was probably the point. Will was sure none of the Pierce family even knew how to play.
“God, I’m exhausted,” Annabelle huffed, throwing herself down in an oversized armchair. “The cleaning crew was supposed to be done hours ago, and did you see the car those people from the rental company left? It’s last year’s model. Obviously, they’re coming by to replace it this afternoon. And then, there’s Vivienne.”
“Is she here?” Charlie asked.
Annabelle sighed and pointed over her shoulder toward the verandah just beyond the sliding doors.
There was a row of lounge chairs lined up alongside the pool, all empty except for the one furthest to the right. Will couldn’t see her face from under the wide-brimmed sun hat but recognized the slim body tented under an enormous pink kaftan.
“Hi, Viv,” Charlie called out.
The woman didn’t turn around, just lifted a well-manicured hand to offer a listless wave.
Charlie held up the white pastry box. “Want a muffin?”
There was a sound of disgust as her hand fell limply to her side.
“She seems… good,” Will murmured.
“Oh, fantastic,” Annabelle said sarcastically, draping her long legs casually over the arm of the chair. “She found out Richard took a date to the ballet’s gala last night, so she’s spent the whole morning mainlining mimosas.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Vivienne yelled without moving a muscle.
