My Brother's Crown (17 page)

But that meant giving the pamphlet over to them before we even knew what its message said. I didn't like that idea at all. Then again, what other choice did we have? We couldn't exactly postpone the ceremony, and in the end we'd still be donating it, message or not. Bottom line, I guessed we'd just have to go with it and trust that the Smithsonian people would keep us in the loop.

Sadly, because I was flying home Sunday and they couldn't even get started on it until Monday, Blake and I wouldn't be able to solve Jules's code together, something I'd really been looking forward to. Decoding secret messages was probably right up his alley, and working on it side by side with him would have been a lot of fun.

With a sigh, I gave up trying to find any other options, put away my notes, and turned my attention to preparations for the reunion. There was still much to do, and as I went from one task to another, I started thinking about my three cousins and how excited I was to see them.

I was closest to Danielle, but I also adored Madeline, who was just a year younger. I loved Maddee's little sister, Nicole, too, though things with her were always a bit more complicated as she tended to specialize in chaos, recklessness, and bad decisions. Nicole had been only six the year of the Incident, and in a way it had hit her harder than any of us. As she grew older and eventually “went wild,” as Nana liked to put it, I'd often wondered how much that long-ago trauma played into Nicole's current issues. Regardless, we four cousins shared a bond born of family ties and annual gatherings and forged at a young age by our common trauma in the Dark Woods. Drama or not, I loved getting together with her and the others each year at the reunion.

I took a break in the early afternoon and threw together a quick lunch in the kitchen of the guest house. I was settling in at the table, just about to take the first bite of my turkey sandwich, when the door to the patio slid open with a bang. I looked up to see Danielle standing there, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a wide grin on her face.

The next hour flew by in a nonstop gabfest. My favorite cousin and I talked as I ate and she got unpacked, talked as we went to the main house and I showed her the display rooms, talked as she took a look at the projector and realized she could run the movie from a flash drive rather than from her laptop.

She grew quiet, and I watched as she dug one out from her bag, inserted it into her laptop, and copied over the file. With her blond, flyaway hair, perpetually dreamy expression, and just-a-little-outré clothing, Danielle always looked the part of the artist. It wasn't hard to imagine her out in a field of wildflowers, palette and brush in hand, poised in front of a waiting canvas. But now I was reminded that she was equally adept behind a camera or at a computer, using her skills with whatever medium applied at the moment.

Once she was finished with her last-minute edit, we sat side by side in the darkness of our little ad hoc movie theater and watched the story unfold on the screen in front of us. I'd had no doubt that the video would be visually appealing with a nice mix of photos and graphics and transitions worthy of a Ken Burns documentary. But I was more than a little impressed with the other elements as well, including the editing, pacing, and writing. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Creative types like Danielle often possessed talents across the board. She was even musical, yet one more skill that was as foreign to me as my world of colloid chemistry and security printing were to her.

We differed in other ways as well. She was lighthearted and silly where I was studious and somber, creative where I was scientific, absentminded where I was laser focused. Yet for all our differences, we got on so well together and always had. The fact that she'd been working with me on this important educational exhibit made it even that much better. Currently, Danielle's day job was as a freelance “visual merchandiser,” which according to her was just a glorified term for window dresser. She liked her work, but her dream was to be a museum exhibition designer and eventually a curator, goals I had no doubt she would end up achieving. I'd seen pictures of her work, and even her most modest window designs were so good they practically belonged in a museum themselves.

Once we were finished with the movie, she and I spent a little time on the final touches of the display rooms and then passed the rest of the afternoon back outside, doing what we could to help.

Maddee showed up just around the time most of the workers were wrapping things up, so after the requisite squeals and hugs, Danielle and I called an end to our workday as well and the three of us headed to our room, arm in arm, to get cleaned up and ready for dinner. In the distance, we could hear the slam of car doors in the driveway and the chatter of excited voices as more relatives began to arrive. But except for a few hugs for my brothers and their families when they showed up at the guesthouse to drop off their bags, I was happy to start with just my two cousins for now and worry about greeting everyone else later.

A tall and striking redhead, Maddee was the prettiest of the cousins—and that was saying a lot. A classic ugly-duckling-turned-swan, she'd been perpetually freckled as a child, her reddish-brown hair a frizzy mess. As a teen, she shot up to nearly six feet tall and for years was all arms, legs, elbows, and knees—and braces. Thank goodness for Nana's etiquette classes, because at least Maddee learned at a young age to stand up straight and hold herself in a regal manner. It wasn't until she was nearing her twenties that she finally began to fill out and sort of grow into herself, and these days, she looked like a fashion model. The fact that she dressed with style and flair—often sporting three-inch heels without a second thought—only served to enhance her appearance. Still, even with all of that, the loveliest things about her were her sweet personality and maternal ways. Perhaps because she'd come to her beauty relatively late in life, she possessed not one ounce of divaness, which was refreshing in one so lovely.

After working outside in the heat for much of the day, I needed to start over with a shower, so once Danielle and Maddee were dressed and ready, they sat on their beds in our room and kept me company while I did my makeup. The topic of Nicole arose right away, as she had yet to appear.

Maddee sighed. “We never know what she's up to these days.” She looked from me to Danielle and then down at her hands. “She may not be coming at all.”

“
What?
” Danielle cried, her tone echoing my own surprise. It wasn't unusual for Nicole to be late, or to show up with alcohol on her breath, but she'd always come eventually. She'd never missed the reunion before. None of us had.

Maddee caught us up on her little sister's latest drama, but after a while I tuned it out and focused on finishing my face. It was always the same story, back to drinking, probably drugs as well, living with some guy—a classic tale of self-destruction. Maddie had contacted Nicole a few weeks ago to see if she wanted a ride to the reunion. Nicole had said no, that she was going to have to “play it by ear” this year. Both Maddee and her mom had tried reaching out several times since then, but Nicole had stopped answering their calls or responding to their texts a few days ago.

“That tells me she's going to be a no-show,” Maddee added, “and that she just doesn't want to hear it.”

Saddened by our conversation, I was glad when we moved on to another subject. Once I was ready, the three of us clustered together and Danielle snapped a selfie. We looked good, if I did say so myself, but an odd thought struck me as I glanced at my two cousins. Between the delicate, ethereal loveliness of Danielle and the tall, striking good looks of Maddee, they were both certain to catch Blake's eye tomorrow when he came to guard the display. To my surprise, the muscle man had really started to grow on me, and the thought that he'd soon be sharing witty repartee with these two beauties made me feel oddly… disappointed.

Putting such thoughts from my mind for now, I fell in step as we headed to the main house. Inside was happy chaos with everyone greeting each other and doing the how-are-you, you-look-great thing. Once all were present and accounted for, we gathered around the massive dinner table for our first big family meal since the one following Granddad's funeral seven months ago.

Nana asked Uncle Finley to lead us in prayer, and when he was finished, she rose to give a toast.

“To this amazing family and its brave spirit,” she said, holding up
her glass of iced tea. “And to the weekend ahead. May it be full of love, joy, and unity.”

There were “hear, hears” and clinks and sips, and a whole lot of smiles and even a few hugs around the table.

Nana remained standing, and once things quieted down, she raised her glass a second time.

“And to the man,” her voice caught for a moment, but she swallowed hard and then started again. “To the man who should be in the chair at the end of this table,” she said, holding up a glass toward that empty seat, as if Granddad were still there and doing the same in return.

We all grew more solemn as we joined in, the words “to Dad” and “to Granddad” echoing all around. Nana sat and we began our meal. But as it went on, I couldn't stop my eyes from wandering again and again to the second empty chair here, the one across from me, where Nicole should have been sitting and was not.

The next morning I was awake and ready for the big day before either of my roommates even stirred. Blake would arrive at eight, and the relatives would start piling in at nine, so I was glad for the extra time to grab some breakfast, get fixed up, and tend to last-minute details.

As soon as I stepped outside I realized that today was as hot as yesterday but not nearly as muggy—not yet, anyway—which was good. We almost always had nice weather for the reunion weekend.

I entered the house through the front door. Everyone attending the event would come this way to pick up their welcome packet and sign up for a time slot on the Persecution Pamphlet viewing schedule. Then they would move through the entrance hall and out the French doors to the festivities beyond. Those who signed up to see the pamphlet were to return to the laundry room at their designated times, and they would enter in groups of ten to watch the video in the first room, view the pamphlet under glass in the second, and then exit through the mudroom door to the outside.

Excited for the day to start, I grabbed a welcome packet myself and carried it to the dining room, which was blessedly empty and quiet for the moment. Today's lunch would be served outside, with chefs in tall white hats at carving stations and servers in crisp uniforms hurrying back and forth replenishing the buffet. But this breakfast, a much more modest and mostly unattended spread, was only for those who were staying here at the house, to be eaten at our convenience. I helped myself to a bowl of oatmeal from a steaming Crock-Pot and then topped it with nuts and raisins and a shot of milk.

I would have preferred to eat in the solarium, but I could hear workmen in there, probably hanging up the giant family tree the committee rolled out and added to each year as needed. Instead, grateful to have the room to myself for the moment, I sat facing the windows at one corner of the dining table, said a silent grace, and then enjoyed my breakfast as I looked out on all the preparations.

The grounds beyond the pool area were starting to buzz with activity as a bunch of green-polo-shirted workers from the rental company swarmed across the yard, setting up large white canopy tents that would provide extra shade. Others were bringing in rented tables and chairs that would go under them.

I turned my attention to the welcome packet, pulling out the contents and skimming through everything. It all looked great, as usual. There was a map of the house and grounds showing the various activity stations and a schedule of events packed with all sorts of fun, including the Talbot Family Olympics and the Annual Talbot Talent Show. This year's main event, however, was the ceremony. It would be held tomorrow, in the backyard, with our top dignitaries seated on a rented dais and everyone else watching from chairs under the big white tents.

So that the pamphlet would not have to be exposed to the elements, I'd made a facsimile of it, and the plan was for Uncle Finley and Nana to symbolically present that to the director of the museum during the ceremony. Then, once it was over, a few of us were to proceed to the study, where we'd retrieve the actual document from the safe and hand it over for real.

Just the thought of that special moment brought bittersweet tears
to my eyes. Blinking them away, I finished my breakfast, cleared my dishes, and headed for the viewing rooms—or at least that was my intention. It wasn't yet eight a.m., but already the check-in ladies were assembling in the main hallway, and between them and the aunts and uncles and cousins who were coming down to eat, I was waylaid several times.