Between You and Me (5 page)

I continue to the end, placing the master suite as just on the other side of Andy and Michelle’s. I’m reaching for the crystal knob when I think I hear something. I pivot—and spot the red light of a camera where the dentil molding meets the ceiling. I smile to communicate that I was just kidding and concentrate on strolling back to my room.
Oh, me? Just having a good time checking out the doorknobs.
“Lovely!” I say out loud like an idiot.

I close the door behind me and, finding no cameras, face-plant on the bed.

Between the aching temptation to
snoop and the images staring from every surface, from which my family and myself are so pointedly absent, I force myself to stay by the pool, even when the temperature every morning hovers in the sixties. I try to read, but one ear is always on the driveway. Jeff, annoyingly, offers no response and, hence, no distraction. Angela, however, distracts me with anything I can dream up, from cheese fries to soufflé, explaining that she gets zero gratification from making oil-free garbanzo-bean salads for the girls in the office.

From the food to the view to the horse-hair-filled chaise cushions, this is an unbelievably great life. There is no question.

The late-afternoon sun has finally lifted the air into the eighties, and as it slips off my toes, I sense it’s time for a last dip. I take a peek at my phone, but I haven’t heard from Delia since this morning, and her cryptic text—
Blech!
—did not herald a reunion. I can hear the girls calling good night to Angela. When I asked about their roles, three sets of hands started hair twirling as if they were doing a group charade of cotton candy while announcing: “branding,” “developing,” and “scheduling.”

The quiet deepens. I look again at the cornices of the pool bungalow and then the house. No cameras trained directly on the pool. As it seems official—this is my Kelsey Wade–sponsored retreat—I drop into the bathtub-like warmth, thinking, screw it—then untie my bikini and leave it in a small heap on the stone. It feels delicious, conjuring that summer Andy made his quota and Michelle got a membership to the town pool. We swam every day, even when it rained. I smile as I picture Kelsey in her stretched-out Care Bears suit, stomping in the puddles where the cement was cracking, belting “Singing in the Rain.” I dive down, taking a lap underwater, relishing the undulating silence.

“Fuck! Security!” I hear the voice before I can surface.
“Security!”
Bulleting my head into the air, I swipe at my seaweed-like clumps of hair as a speeding golf cart jostles two guards across the lawn. They swerve to a halt at the hedge and leap out, guns drawn. I swivel to see the threat and register that it’s me—me! “Oh, God, Andy!” This
cannot
be happening. “It’s Logan!” I frantically yell.

A man even bigger than Andy comes racing from the house. “Get back!”

“It’s me!” I swim for the wall and press myself into it. “Logan.” I splutter, water in my eyes, nose, and throat. “Your niece—”

“Don’t fucking move,” the huge man instructs as he hauls me out onto the stone. I try to cover myself with my hands, freezing at the sight of two cocked guns.

“I’m—I’m Kelsey’s cousin—”

“What the . . . ?” Michelle is suddenly there, swiping my towel off the chaise and pushing past the guards to hold it in front of me.
“Logan?
What on earth?”

“Delia called me, brought me,” I rush, as she races across the veranda. “I thought you—”

“Don’t shoot!” Delia cries, flapping her arms. “It’s a surprise for Kelsey!”
Oh, no. No, no, no.

“Oh!” Michelle says. “Oh! Well . . . sweetie, well, cover yourself.” My eyes on the metal barrel, I slowly wrap the terrycloth around me.

“She’s here to keep Kelsey company.” Delia puffs, dropping her hands to her knees to catch her breath.

“Wow.” Michelle nods from Delia to me. “Well, we just didn’t recognize you all grown.” I smile feebly while the security guys return their guns to their holsters. I wonder if I have peed myself or the feeling is coming back into my numb legs and that’s water. “Andy, isn’t this funny?” Michelle prompts him.

“Well . . . ” He lifts his hat and lowers it. “Well, now,” he says with more conviction. “You gave us a shock, didn’t she?”

Michelle smiles and shakes her head emphatically. “Did she!”

He lets out a short laugh. “I was all, ‘Logan Wade is in our swimming pool as naked as the day she was born!’” Delia laughs. Michelle laughs. My teeth are chattering. “Well, give your uncle a hug.” I have to tell myself to step toward him and then realize I have the excuse of the towel. “Or—uh, later, when you find your suit.” He blushes, and while I have many memories of him flushed, I’ve never seen him blush. “Logan Wade, right here in my pool, crazy.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Kelsey’ll be so excited!” Michelle brings her hands down between her bobbed knees before throwing her palms to the sky. The hulking bodyguard clears his throat. “Thanks, GM.” She pats his arm. “False alarm.”

“Is Kelsey here?” I ask as the golf cart is driven away.

“Still asleep in the van,” Delia says, picking up the Bluetooth that my near death caused to fall from her ear. I didn’t realize how much makeup she had on to greet me. The thick lashes are gone, as is the color in her cheeks, replaced by a bruise of exhaustion beneath each eye. “They kept Kel on that camel till almost four o’clock this morning.”

Andy bends to sift a leaf from the pool.

“So she doesn’t know I’m here?” I try to confirm with Delia, trying not to let my alarm read. Kelsey likes surprises as much as Andy does—at least, she used to.

“Delia knows how to keep things fun. I’m just thinking.” Michelle tilts her head. “Let’s throw a sheet over you when Kelsey comes in!” Oh, God.

“Awesome.” Delia looks to Andy, who gives a sign-off nod. “I’ll tell Angela about dinner.”

Andy squints at where the water is sucked in under the stone. “That filter’s not working like it should.”

“So, wow, when did you get in?” Michelle asks.

“The day before yesterday. Delia sent me a ticket. I’m sorry. I misunderstood. I thought—”

“And you’re leaving when?” Andy asks.

“The day after tomorrow, if that works for you. That’s all my vacation days, so . . . ”

“Uh-huh.” His lower lip puffs out.

“We’re just going to make the best of your time left, aren’t we, hon?” Michelle turns to him.

“Sure thing,” he confirms as he trails GM back to the house.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” I ask her, officially wishing that I wasn’t.

“Oh, don’t mind him, he just gets a little lost at dusk,” she says matter-of-factly, and I wonder if dusk is code for happy hour. A breeze starts to circle my bare feet. “Wow, Logan . . . ” Her hand goes to her chin as she takes me in. “You and Kel could be sisters. You really grew up beautiful.”

“Thank you. You, too.”

“Oh, pshaw, it’s a gallon of Juvéderm keepin’ age at bay. Forty-eight next September, God help me.” She chuckles. “Now, how long has it been?”

“Since you and Kelsey left for L.A.,” I answer.

“Oh, for
Kids, Incorporated,
right,” she says, her eyes losing focus as she remembers. “So Kelsey was almost eleven, and you were just—”

“Thirteen.” I wonder if she’s going to bring up the accident.

“We’ve all come a long way!” She laughs. I guess not.

“Yes, this house,” I say with real awe.

“It’s something, huh?” She grins.

“You’re the reason I got myself to New York,” I say, eager to share the thought that passes through my mind at least once a week. “I always loved your—how you wanted to make things fabulous.”

“Aw,” she says, putting her hand over her heart as her eyes tear up.

I feel my own dampening. “You know, I think I’m just going to go upstairs and put on something dry.”

“Of course, so stupid of me. You must be freezing. I never stick a toe in that pool between October and April. Hank keeps the water warm, but the air gets a real bite. Go take a nice, toasty bath, and we’ll catch up at dinner.” She takes me by the shoulders and places a firm kiss on my cheek as the early-evening sky shifts to indigo. “It’s so great to have you. Kelsey will love it.”

I scurry up to the veranda and enter the transformed great room. Around Andy, flat-screen TVs have sprung from every surface, even the gilt mirror above the fireplace has moved aside to reveal one, each tuned to a twenty-four-hour news network. And every recessed light, every lamp, every crystal sconce, is lit. Huddling in my towel, I hurry to the stairs just as Kelsey shuffles in through the open front door, still looking half-asleep and wrapped in a pink blanket. She startles. We stare at each other for the longest moment before her blue eyes widen.
“Logan?”
she asks, sounding almost frightened as Michelle’s sandals take the steps behind me and Delia’s flip-flops hit the hallway.

“Hi,” I say, infusing the solitary syllable with as much apology as I can.

“Surprise!” Delia proclaims. “Logan came to see you!”

“Isn’t this great?” Michelle asks, louder than is required to be heard over the pundits’ buzz.

Her face still slack, eyes apprehensive, she stares at me as if questioning the veracity of my appearance.

“Kel?” I say tentatively. Andy turns from the couch.

“Kelsey?” Delia prompts. “Logan missed you.” Kelsey looks from Delia to an inscrutable Andy.

“We’re burritos!” she suddenly exclaims. I look down at myself in my towel, realizing that we mirror each other with our gripping fingers tucked under our chins. She throws her blanket off like a cape, revealing a T-shirt and cut-offs, and jogs over to engulf me in a hug.

I feel a warm shock at her reception but am unable to return it without pulling her against my naked body. “Sorry, I’m—I was skinny-dipping, actually. I didn’t know when you were going to—whatever. Hi!” I lean into her and tilt my elbows forward as a gesture of embrace. She stiffens almost imperceptibly. “It’s so good to see you!” I say through her sprayed-crunchy chestnut waves.

“Yeah!” She matches my enthusiasm before pulling back and turning to Delia, her face reslackening. “I’m gonna try to keep napping. Come get me when it’s time for dinner.” She ascends the stairs, and I’m left to watch the soles of her bare feet as she disappears.

Two hours later, I’m dressed,
blown out, and fully made up as I perch awkwardly on the patio wall while Andy intently mans the steaks. The minute I see Kelsey, I’m going in for a do-over hug. I’m just going to step up, arms wide, face beaming—

“Logan.”

He stands over me in his canvas apron, the shadows obscuring his face. “Hi!” I rise, pulling my wrap sweater tight with crossing arms. “How’s the grilling?”

“Oh, fine. Look, I, uh, just before everyone comes down . . . ” He tilts back as if wishing only his loafers needed to be present. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for the suffering that my addiction may have caused you. Okay?”

Despite the rote delivery, my stomach twists in on itself. “Yes, I . . . I didn’t even—” I start to lie, but he cuts me off.

“Great.” He drops his arms heavily around me, and I tell myself to hug back. “You seem just fine.” He pats me and retreats to his smoking meat.

“Honey, that smells fantastic!” Michelle emerges from the glass doors in a pair of capris, and I shakily follow her to the wrought-iron table. “Angela has perfected Coleman’s potato salad, Logan, honey. You’ll think you’re back home at the diner. We even have Frito chili pie. You’re in for a real treat.”

“I’ve been worshiping at the altar of Angela since I arrived.” Desperately wishing that wine was being offered, I drag out one of the heavy dining chairs.

“Hit the fairy lights, would you, babe?” Michelle calls to Andy. Carrying a platter, he bumps a column with his elbow, illuminating the pergola. “Now it’s a party,” Michelle pronounces as she tugs her napkin from its crystal ring.

“You all set out there?” Delia steps onto the patio, her clipboard in hand as she sips a soda.

“Is that girl still sleeping?” Andy shakes his head.

I see past him to the glowing great room, where Kelsey is dropping weightily down each step of the staircase, her gaze cast to the hem of her sweatpants. “I think she’s—” I hesitate when she pauses before raising her face and breaking open a smile. “Coming now,” I finish, psyching myself to take this from the top.

“That smells
so
good, Daddy. I could eat a horse, seriously.” Kelsey gooses Delia, who jumps before swatting her on the butt with her clipboard. “Logan, how good is this food? We even have queso.”

“So good.” I go to stand, but my metal chair barely budges. “Let me give you a proper—”

“Oh, my God, sit, eat!” She waves me down. I hover over my plate, knowing that any later attempts are going to be flat-out weird. Deciding for me, Kelsey grabs a piece of corn bread and folds herself into a seat.

I focus on replacing my napkin. That went great.

“Dig in!” Michelle sinks a spoon into the potato salad. Kelsey takes a long gulp of her iced tea, eyeing me over the tumbler.

“How was your nap?” I ask. And the last decade and a half?

“Oh, I couldn’t really. Just went over the choreography in my mind.”

Kelsey and I both reach for the coleslaw spoon. “Sorry.” I drop it.

“You’re the guest,” she says, stretching to flip a heaping scoop onto my plate. “I was thinking.” She turns to Andy. “I don’t know about another LaChapelle shoot. Next time, we should go with Leibovitz, and then—”

“Kel.” Andy shakes his head once, while continuing to chew.

“You want to work with that freak show again?”

“No,” he agrees.

“Right—” But she stops as he swivels his eyes in my direction, then back at his plate. Kelsey picks up her fork.

“This is so fun!” Michelle fills the silence. “Logan, right here at our table.” I struggle for appropriate conversation, but every polite inquiry
sounds like a blog post. “Oh, Delia, how’s your momma doing after that root canal? Those things are hell.”

“Talking funny, but good. Thanks for asking.”

“I spent a week with a mouth full of cotton. Looked like a fat chipmunk, didn’t I, Kel?”