Life of the Party Read online

  He sat back, arm hooked over the chair, and surveyed the table. Every person there was someone he had known long before he had decided to run for mayor. His best friend . . . his high school bandmates . . . his take-charge cousin. They went a long way back, and a few coffees and pastries would never be enough to repay them for this gift of their time—or more important, for their faith in him.

  He had the final say. He was the one with the jitters. But would it be fair to repay them for their time and belief by making things more complicated for them down the road, all because he was nervous about taking such a public step at this point?

  At that moment, the pretty barista materialized at the side of the table.

  “How are we all doing? Anybody need anything?”

  He glanced around the circle of faces, all of them shaking.

  “We’re good, thanks.”

  “Okay. Let me know if that changes.” She turned her back on them and moved toward the front of the store.

  “Hang on,” he said. He wasn’t sure why until she turned and looked at him. Not at the others, but him. Directly at him, the way she had up at the counter.

  “Could I get a refill, please?” He raised his cup and smiled. Her gaze flickered to the mug, then to him, and she returned the smile. Slowly. Reluctantly. But it was still a smile, one that softened her slightly pointy chin and lit the eyes beneath her shaggy blond bangs.

  Yeah. That was why he’d called to her.

  “Coming right up,” she said. “I’ll even be a sport and put it in a clean mug.”

  He waited until she had moved out of sight before turning back to the table.

  “Okay.” He pointed at Allison. “Set up a time for us to have a look. Anyone else who wants to check it out, you’re more than welcome.”

  Allison nodded and tapped on her tablet. Aubrey smiled in relief. Tim gave him a thumbs-up. Ram scrawled something on a notepad. A moment later, when Cole reached for his wallet, he felt a paper being pushed into his hand.

  Don’t suppose your change of heart had anything to do with the barista you were checking out.

  Cole scanned the words and bit back a laugh. Right. Ram knew better than anyone that Cole didn’t let romance—or friendly conversation, which was all it had been—determine the course of his actions. If that had been the case, he would still be in Manhattan, still clocking seventy-plus hour work weeks at Genovese, Flynn, & Brown, and still miserable.

  Nope. Cole Dekker didn’t play games. He did what he knew he had to do, and he did openly. He did it honestly.

  And there wasn’t a smile in the world that could make him change.

  ***

  Jenna pulled into the driveway of her mother’s house and grinned. Not in anticipation. Her stomach had been cramping from the moment her mother had texted her with the terse words all the Elias sisters dreaded: Family Council, 6:00.

  Jenna had missed only one such summons in her life. That was the meeting her mother called when Jenna almost died.

  So nope, she wasn’t exactly joyful about the evening ahead. But it was impossible to not grin at the sight that greeted her—a figure in the garden that she was pretty sure was supposed to be a scarecrow, but in actuality resembled her aunt’s favorite source of bad jokes.

  “Hi, Mom!” she called as she let herself into the house.

  Neenee Elias stopped in the middle of waving a finger in the face of Jenna’s big sister, Bree, and waved in Jenna’s direction. “Hi, sweetheart. You’re just in time. Kyrie texted from the airport. She and Paige will be here anytime.”

  “Great. I see you let Aunt Margie loose in the petunias again.”

  “I had to. She said it was either Justin Bieber in the garden, or she was going to have the car painted with a Wonder Woman theme.”

  Yeah, that sounded like Margie. “Good call. Keep yelling at Bree. She needs it.”

  “Hey!” Bree protested, but Jenna was already on her way to the kitchen. She was dying to interrogate her mother, but she knew from experience that not a word would be said until all five sisters were in residence.

  Once in the fading yellow kitchen, Jenna found her baby sister, Annie, chopping vegetables with a particularly violent glee.

  “Let me guess,” Jenna said. “The rug rats were extra enchanting today.”

  Annie didn’t break her rhythm, even while hunching her shoulder to push back the long curl that had slipped free of her ponytail. “The children at my day care are awesome,” she said. “It’s the grown-ups that make my life a living hell.”

  “ What was it this time? Wait. I know. A parent complained because someone pushed Precious on the swing without consulting with her first, and now she will need endless rounds of therapy because her personal space was violated.”

  “Worse. Today I had a parent inform me that she wanted her son moved to a different class because he wasn’t being adequately challenged by the program in his group.” Annie snorted. “The genius in question is eleven months old.”

  “Ah, but he acts like a fourteen-month-old, right?”

  “Not even. He is a normal, healthy, utterly adorable bundle of poop who is right on target for all his milestones. A great kid who has only one problem, and that’s spelled M-O-M.”

  “What, Mom is after you, too?” Bree said as she hustled into the kitchen.

  “Not me. Work parents.” Annie made a face.

  Jenna stole a cherry tomato from the bowl. “Mom’s not after me, either. I’m her favorite.”

  “No, you’re not,” Bree replied. “I’m the first, so I have to be her favorite. It’s a well-established psychological principal. Unfortunately for you, you got to be Daddy’s girl.”

  “Ooooh,” Annie said. “Harsh, Bree. You’re really gonna make Jenna carry that load of guilt?”

  Jenna shrugged as she hoisted herself up on a stool by the breakfast bar. “Hey, I didn’t make him steal, or run away, or any of those other things. All I did was smile pretty and take the toys he gave me.”

  “Bought by a Barbie.” Bree shook her head. “You always were easy.”

  Jenna thought about protesting, but decided she couldn’t. Bree was right. Jenna had been pretty free and easy, back in the day.

  But those days were long behind her. Most of the time, she was glad of that.

  Most of the time.

  “Question.” This seemed like a good time to change the subject.

  “No, I don’t know why Mom called this meeting,” Bree said. “She’s not giving out hints, as you saw when you came in.”

  “Good guess, but that isn’t what I wanted to ask. Does the name ‘Cole Dekker’ ring any bells to you guys?”

  “Not me.” Annie swatted at Bree, who was stealthily pilfering croutons from the salad.

  “Ow!” Bree rubbed her hand. “I know him, sort of. He was a year or two ahead of me in high school. He didn’t live in Calypso Falls, he was from one of the feeder towns. Lansing, maybe. He’s a lawyer. Has an office on Paulie Road. I pass it when I’m on my way to school.”

  “Who’s a lawyer?” Neenee asked as she entered, carrying a platter filled with ribs. “Bree, take the lid off the Crock-Pot for me, there’s a girl.”

  “Only if you tell me—” Bree began, but a sharp look from their mother had her doing as ordered.

  “Cole Dekker.” Jenna twisted back and forth on her stool, pushing and pulling herself to and from the breakfast bar. “He came into the shop today, and his name sounded familiar.”

  Bree stepped back, giving Neenee room to deposit the ribs into the slow cooker. “Maybe Ken-Doll had dealings with him.”

  “Not likely.” Jenna scowled at the mention of her ex. “Kendall would never stoop so low as to use a local lawyer.”

  “Nothing but the priciest for him, right?” asked Annie.

  “Forget him.” Bree slammed the lid o
n the pot, but not before the scent of barbecued ribs had filled the room. “Why were you asking about Cole Dekker, Jenna?”

  “I told you. He came into the shop. His name sounded familiar, so I was curious.” She twirled a little farther this time. “Now I know. How long until Kyrie and Paige get here? I’m starved.”

  Neenee pushed a bowl of grapes into Jenna’s hands. “They’re on their way from the airport, so they should be here in a few minutes. Take these to the table. Annie, bring the salad, and Bree, grab the dressing and the rolls. I have to make sure Margie hasn’t decided to toss a bunch of sage on the barbecue like she did last time.”

  “Yeah, Mom, you still haven’t told us how you knew it wasn’t really sage,” Annie called to Neenee’s departing back. When no answer drifted back to them, she turned to her sisters. “I’m pretty sure this meeting has something to do with Mom. Something’s wrong with her.”

  “Not this again.” Bree took the words out of Jenna’s mouth.

  “Go ahead and laugh. I spend half my days trying to decipher cues from nonverbal little beasties. I know body language, and I’m telling you, something’s up.”

  Bree shook her head.

  “She has a job that would drive anyone normal to drink.” Bree ticked off points on her fingers. “She has two daughters getting married soon. One of those daughters is preparing to move to Scotland—”

  “God Save the Queen,” Annie and Jenna interrupted automatically.

  “—and she has to live with Aunt Margie,” Jenna finished. “You think you wouldn’t be twitching under those circumstances?”

  “All true.” Annie grabbed the salad and led the parade into the screened-in porch. “But it’s more than—”

  “They’re here!” Aunt Margie’s deep bellow alerted them and, no doubt, the entire neighborhood.

  Jenna joined Bree and Annie in the race to the driveway. It had been too long since she’d seen the twins, and even though Kyrie owned Brews and Blues—meaning that the two of them were in frequent contact—there was a world of difference between updating the boss on the daily report and dishing with her sister about her wedding plans. Add in Paige’s upcoming move across the pond, and yeah. Sister time was something to be cherished.

  Aunt Margie reached the car first, thanks to both her pole position in the garden and her impressive speed-walking abilities, but even she knew the rule: Neenee got first hugs. When Jenna reached the driveway, both twins were already in their mother’s arms, laughing over something that someone—probably Paige—had said.

  God, she loved her family.

  Aunt Margie broke into the clinchfest, setting off a flurry of hugs and squeals and exclamations over weight lost and gained, hair cut and lightened, and the possible reasons for the red marks on Paige’s neck. The whole chattering mass rolled out of the driveway and into the slightly sagging Victorian, and out to the porch.

  “I know you’re all curious about why I dragged you here tonight,” Neenee said from the head of the table. “And I’m going to tell you everything soon. But right now, I want to have a fun meal with all of you, so I’ll say this: no one is sick, no one is dying, no one is in trouble. You can all keep breathing. So let’s eat.”

  Jenna caught Bree’s eye. Bree gave a tiny nod. Jenna didn’t need to be able to read her sister’s mind to know that Bree was thinking the same thing she was thinking:

  Dad.

  Not that any of them would call him Dad. Not after what he did. It took a special breed of scum to fake his own death in order to avoid going to jail, and Jenna, at least, was pretty sure that even algae ranked higher on the Parental Awesomeness scale than Robert Elias ever would.

  But she had long ago learned how to block him from her mind. It was a gorgeous summer night, filled with the scent of late-blooming lilacs and the sound of her sisters’ laughter. Neenee was right. Joy first, unpleasantness later.

  Dinner was long over but the group remained around the table, talking about everything and nothing while sipping the lemonade Margie had spiked with an expert hand. All the sisters were staying at the house tonight—Neenee’s orders—so there was nothing pushing anyone to leave. Or move. Or hold back.

  At least, not until Neenee returned from a trip to the bathroom with a paper in one hand and a bottle of Scotch in the other.

  Reckoning time.

  “Girls, I hate to be Debbie Downer, but there’s some news I need to share.” Neenee opened the bottle, helped herself to a hefty slug, and passed it to Margie.

  “One glug or two?” Margie asked.

  Neenee eyed the paper. “You know what? I think this at least a two-fer. We might even need tumblers.”

  “Uh, Mom,” Annie said, “not that I want to tell you what to do or anything, but if there’s a problem, maybe we should face it with, you know. Clear heads.”

  As one, the remaining sisters pulled back and squinted in her direction.

  “Or maybe not.” Annie chugged the last of her lemonade, grabbed the bottle from Margie, and poured herself a healthy serving.

  Each of the sisters followed suit. Jenna eyed the golden liquid in her glass and wrinkled her nose. She was definitely more of a vodka gal. Vodka had been her buddy for a long time. Vodka was the ultimate comfort drink, sliding in unnoticed, giving heat but not demanding attention. It was so easy to forget when drinking vodka.

  Yeah. Probably better that she be drinking yucky Scotch.

  Neenee raised her glass, which held a rather alarming amount of booze for someone who was a mother. So much for good examples.

  “Here’s to us, ladies. Drink up.”

  One by one, they obliged. Mostly, Jenna knew, because they were well aware that Neenee wouldn’t tell them what was up until they had all imbibed.

  As soon as the last glass hit the table, Neenee lifted the paper.

  “This is from your father.”

  Oh shit.

  “Neenee,” she read, swaying slightly from side to side as if rocking an invisible baby. “You asked me to keep you informed as to my whereabouts and legal standing before you could hear it on the news or be ambushed by reporters. Therefore, I’m letting you know that the end of my time at the transitional house is drawing to a close. As of mid-June, I will be a free man once more.” Her hand shook ever so slightly. “And I have decided that the best place to begin again is where my life started the first time around. Back in Calypso Falls.”

  Chapter Two

  A fist of denial tightened around Jenna’s throat. Rob was coming back? Here? To their town?

  “Son of a slimeball!” Margie downed the rest of her Scotch and slammed the glass on the table, sending elbows jolting. “What the hell?”

  “That’s all I know,” Neenee said. “I haven’t heard anything else.”

  “No firm dates?” Bree asked. “Nothing that would make it easier for us to know how fast we have to sell everything we own and get out of Dodge?”

  Kyrie turned to Paige. “There are abandoned castles in Scotland, right? You and Duncan should buy one. That would keep us from crowding your newlywed bliss when we all move over there with you.”

  “Girls.” Neenee steepled her hands and tipped her head, as if waiting for silence or listening for divine guidance. Probably both. “Your father has disrupted your lives enough over the years.”

  “Decades,” muttered Paige.

  Neenee nodded. “I know it seems impossible, but I really hope—pray—that you won’t let him mess you up all over again.

  “You mean it’s possible for him to do anything else?” Bree asked.

  Neenee took a slightly more restrained helping of her drink. “It’s been a long time,” she said evenly. “He paid his debt to society. For all we know, he may have changed.”

  Jenna snorted. “Seriously, Mom? This is Robert Elias. If there’s a way to screw things up for us, he’ll do it, even if it w
asn’t intended. And it will happen at the worst possible time, guaranteed.”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Kyrie said. “Maybe he’ll get bored. Or maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

  “The fact that we haven’t had any contact with him over the years might be a clue to that one,” Paige added.

  A small, “Um, well . . .” from Annie’s end of the table drew all their attention. Jenna’s stomach fluttered, and not because of the booze.

  “Oh, Annie.” Bree rubbed her eyes. “You didn’t.”

  “It was only a couple of times,” Annie said. “An e-mail or two, when he moved to the transitional house.”

  “How did you find him?” Jenna had a bad feeling about this.

  “I was using Mom’s computer for something, and she was still logged into her e-mail, and I saw a message from him. I didn’t read it,” she added hastily, turning to Neenee. “Totally not trying to invade your privacy there, Mom.”

  Margie leaned back in her chair. “Oh for God’s sake, Annie. Relax. It’s not like she’s going to put you over her knee and paddle you.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” Neenee took another sip.

  “The thing is . . .” Annie twirled her glass in a slow circle. “I’m curious, okay? I mean, the man is my father, but I’ve never met him.”

  “Anniekins,” Jenna said, as gently as she could muster, “I know you won’t believe this, but honestly, I think you got off easiest of all. I . . . it’s one thing to never know someone. It’s totally different when someone tells you on Monday that they love you more than the stars, and on Tuesday he disappears.”

  “And then to find out five years later that the father you mourned because you thought he was dead was really a chickenshit who ran away and hid.” Bree’s words dripped bitterness.

  Not that Jenna could blame her. Rob had led them and the world to believe that he had killed himself. Learning that he had, instead, run away to hide in Costa Rica—yeah. That was when the scales had tipped from I miss my Daddy to holy shit, you piece of dirt.