CHAPTER TWELVE
The house smelled like charcoal and cilantro.
Meredith stood at the kitchen island, dicing tomatoes while Carrie attacked an onion, eyes already watering. At the six-burner range, Lori was shaking a pan of sautéed peppers. Jen was perched on a stool near the counter, stealing chips from the bag that was supposed to be for later. Outside, by the grill, Tom's voice carried through the open sliding door.
"How long on the burgers?"
"You tell me," Meredith called back. "You're the one holding the spatula."
Carrie snorted, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.
"It's collaborative," Tom said, appearing in the doorway. He wore an apron that said GRILL SERGEANT in faded letters, a Father's Day gift from Sophie years ago. "Marriage is a partnership."
The kitchen had devolved into chaos—too many people, not enough room, everyone getting in everyone else's way. Cutting boards competed for counter space. Carrie's blender concoction sat untouched, bright pink and suspicious. The speaker on the windowsill was playing a nineties playlist that had already caused two arguments, one about whether the Backstreet Boys counted as iconic and another about who had added "MMMBop" without asking.
Ethan reached for the phone to change the song. Sophie blocked him, and for a moment they looked like the kids they'd been fifteen years ago, fighting over the remote in someone's living room while their mothers pretended not to notice. Lori told them to take it outside. They insisted they weren't fighting—in unison, naturally—then glared at each other. Sophie won, snatching the phone while Ethan was distracted. She immediately switched to her own playlist.
Outside, Max had claimed the spatula from Tom and was attempting to flip a burger the way he'd seen done on cooking shows. One smooth motion, a little toss, catch it cleanly on the grill. Lily was stretched out on one of the pool loungers with a book, and Ava was on the lounger beside her, the two of them laughing about something.
The burger cleared the grill grate.
It kept going.
"That's in the pool," Brittany said, leaning against the deck railing.
Max shook his head. "It's not in the pool."
"Max." She pointed. "It's floating."
Everyone turned to look. The burger patty was, in fact, bobbing gently in the shallow end, trailing a thin ribbon of grease across the surface.
Max jogged down the stairs, grabbed the skimmer net, and fished it out. "Got it."
He tossed it in the trash and returned to the grill like nothing had happened. Tom handed him a fresh patty without a word.
Lori finished with the peppers and turned to the blender, examining the pink contents suspiciously. Carrie's creation. Strawberries, rum, lime juice, and whatever else she'd found in the back of the cabinet. She poured herself a small glass and took a cautious sip. Her eyes went wide. She coughed, set the glass down, and pushed it away.
"That's not a drink," she said. "That's a weapon. Carrie, I'm pretty sure this is flammable."
Olivia picked up the glass from the counter, sniffing it. "It smells like a beach vacation and poor decisions."
Carrie brightened. "That's what I was going for."
"About twenty minutes," Tom called from the grill, "assuming Max doesn't lose any more patties."
Max rolled his eyes. "I only lost one."
Meredith pulled out the avocados and started on the guacamole. Carrie leaned over with unsolicited advice about lime juice, and Lori wandered over to watch, still recovering from her first sip of Carrie's concoction. By the time the bowl was done, all three of them had contributed something. Carrie the cilantro, Lori a pinch of salt she insisted was necessary, Meredith everything else.
The afternoon wore on. Ethan drifted outside. Sophie followed not long after. At some point Max handed the spatula back to Tom and joined the others by the pool, where Lily was still reading on her lounger and Ava was photographing everything. Brittany stayed on the deck, texting someone—Ryan, probably—half-hiding a grin.
Tom announced the burgers were ready and carried the platter inside. The teens grabbed plates and loaded up without anything resembling an orderly line, despite Tom's protests.
They ate on the deck, plates balanced on laps and railings, the late-afternoon light slanting across the table. Someone had finally put on a playlist everyone agreed on, or at least one nobody hated enough to change. Lori had added enough juice to her drink that she could actually taste it now.
By the time dinner was cleared and the dishes were done, the sun was starting its slow descent toward the mainland. The teenagers had scattered, and the adults had migrated toward the hot tub. Some already in, some sitting on the edge with their feet in the water, some on the lounge chairs nearby with glasses in hand.
It was crowded. Lori was in the center, Carrie wedged beside her, Olivia on the other side, all of them trying to find positions that didn't involve sitting on someone else. Meredith had claimed a spot on the edge, legs dangling in, watching the scene unfold. Jen had taken one of the lounge chairs, near enough to join the conversation but not quite committed to the water.
