"Then maybe that's your answer."
Silence. When Kevin spoke again, his tone had hardened. "This is what I'm talking about."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're poisoning him against me. You have been since the divorce. Every time I try to have a relationship with my son, you're there in the background, whispering in his ear?—"
Poisoning. The accusation landed like a slap. She knew he used it on Ethan too—she'd heard it secondhand, filtered through a son who'd stopped talking.
"I haven't whispered anything." Lori kept her voice low, conscious of the people still mingling on the patio. "Ethan's not a child. He's capable of forming his own opinions. Maybe if you talked to him instead of at him?—"
"I've tried talking to him. He shuts down. He walks away. He acts like I'm the enemy."
"And you think that's my fault?"
"I think you could help if you wanted to. You could tell him that being in my wedding isn't a betrayal. That supporting his father doesn't mean taking sides."
Lori's jaw ached. She'd been clenching it. "Kevin, I can't make him feel something he doesn't feel."
"You could try."
"He's dealing with a lot right now. The divorce, the engagement?—"
"The engagement happened six months ago. He's had time."
"Time doesn't work like that."
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"It means you can't put a deadline on grief."
Kevin exhaled sharply. "This isn't grief, Lori. This is stubbornness. This is a seventeen-year-old being difficult because he knows he can get away with it. And if you won't help me reach him, then I'll have to do it myself."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm coming down there. This weekend. I'll talk to him face-to-face, and we'll settle this once and for all."
The air went out of her. "You're not—Kevin, you can't just show up."
"He's my son."
"And I'm his mother. And we're on vacation. This isn't the time."
"The wedding is coming up fast. When exactly would be the time?"
She didn't have an answer for that.
"I'll text you when I'm on my way," Kevin said. "Make sure he's there."
He hung up before she could respond.
Lori stood among the vines, phone still pressed to her ear, listening to nothing. Around her, the evening continued. Guests drifting to their cars, laughter floating from the patio, the soft crunch of shells underfoot. The string lights swayed slightly in the breeze, and somewhere in the fields a bird called out and went quiet.
Back on the patio, John was stacking chairs. Scott was loading a box of books into his car. The night had felt so full of possibility. Now it was just a night.
She thought about going back. Thanking John for the event. Lingering a little longer in that other version of the night, the one where Kevin hadn't called, where she was just a woman at a vineyard, learning about barrier islands.
But the call had happened. Kevin was coming. And she'd have to go to the house and figure out how to tell Ethan.
