My grandparents had only lived in New York and Pennsylvania, never North Carolina, but I listened as Annie told me about the elaborate treehouse the owners had built for their children.
It was identical to the treehouse Pops had built for my dad.
I liked hearing her paint the picture, even if it was out of context. It was still pretty.
Per Erica, her parents used to host Oyster Pond’sIndependence Day festivities, but after Topper had lost a bet with Meredith’s grandfather a handful of years ago, the Foxes had pocketed hosting rights. Assuming the dress code was patriotic, I zipped up a white linen shift dress. “You’re missing a couple colors,” Connor commented after I posted my mirror selfie to my Instagram. People had loved my beach look the other day.
I pointed to my lips, which were red.
“Okay,acolor,” he corrected, running a comb through his hair. “Where’s the blue?”
“Where’s the white?” I countered, assessing his outfit. Nantucket red shorts, a pair of Allbirds, and a navy blue polo that showed off his biceps.
That was hard to ignore.
“Right here.” He pulled sunglasses out of his pocket. Not his usual Oakleys, but a pair of white Ray-Bans. “What do you think?”
I offered my honest opinion by wrinkling my nose.
“Really?” He proceeded to put them on. “Why not?”
“They’re just…” I couldn’t find the right word. “A lot.”
Connor chuckled. “I stole them from Liam.”
“And I’m sure they look great on Liam,” I said carefully. From the way Connor talked about his brother, and the recon I did of Liam McCallister’s Instagram, it was clear he had style. “Maybe you should mail them home.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you driving or taking the boat?”
“Driving,” Connor said, looking ridiculous. “You?”
“Boat,” I told him. “I can’t risk being associated with you and those glasses.”
And with that, I put on my own sunglasses and rushed out of the room, holding in my laugh until I was out in the hall and Connor couldn’t hear it.
* * *
The Carmichaels’ Boston Whaler was so packed that Maisie sat on my lap, and I was slightly worried we were testing the weight limit. “What’s the Foxes’ house like?” I asked Luke and Charlie once a seventh person climbed in, hoping to distract myself.
“Which house?” Luke answered as he draped his arm around Charlie’s neck. He’d returned from Boston late last night, his confidential case under control.
My eyebrows knitted together. “There’s more than one house?”
“There’s eight,” Maisie spoke up. “Oliver Epstein-Fox told me on the beach.” She paused. “He also asked me out today.”
“Eight?”
“The property is called Paqua Farm,” Luke added. “The Farmfor short.”
“The Farm,” Maisie repeated. “Are there horses and cows and stuff?”
“It’s not a working farm,” Luke said. “Although Wit told methey had sheep back in the day, and there still are a couple barns standing.”
“Two.” Charlie nodded, lowering his voice. “Legend has it that Meredith’s grandfather and his brother burned the third one down in their twenties. Fireworks show gone wrong.” He winked. “Their parents were so angry that they gave the Fourth of July to our family.”
“Ooh and now they’ve got it back,” Maisie said, intrigued.
