The Cousins - Karen M. McManus Page 0,87

line. She should be relieved—and she probably would be soon—but at the moment, she just felt empty.

She wandered downstairs afterward, drawn by the sound of voices. Her mother, Donald Camden, Dr. Baxter, and Theresa Ryan were sitting around the kitchen table with a bottle of wine between them. Allison paused in the hallway as Donald lifted his glass. “A toast to you, Mildred, and your indomitable spirit,” he said. Everyone clinked glasses, and then Donald lifted Mother’s hand and kissed it.

Allison frowned. Anders’s latest theory, which he shared constantly with his siblings, was that both Dr. Baxter and Donald Camden were pursuing Mother now that she was a wealthy widow. Never mind that Dr. Baxter was already married. “That’s what divorce is for,” Anders pointed out. “You can’t tell me he wouldn’t ditch his wife at a moment’s notice.”

“Mother’s not interested,” Archer always countered.

“They’re patient men,” Anders replied.

Allison cleared her throat now, and Mother beamed at her. “Hello, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you. Come join us.”

Allison wanted company, but she couldn’t keep up a smiling front right now. She wished, fiercely, that her mother was alone. If she had been, Allison felt sure she would’ve finally unburdened herself. “I was looking for the boys,” she said.

“Archer is out with friends. Adam and Anders are on the beach.”

With one of their father’s five-hundred-dollar bottles of Scotch, no doubt. “I think I’ll join them,” Allison said.

When Mother smiled, she almost looked like her old self. Being around people was good for her, even if it was only these three. “Take a sweatshirt. It’s chilly out there.”

“I will.”

Allison left the house and headed for her father’s favorite indulgence: the outdoor elevator that allowed them to bypass the long, steep, twisting path to the beach. It hummed quietly on the way down, and opened with a soft whooshing sound. Allison stepped onto the sand and headed for the small, protected cove that was her brothers’ favorite drinking spot.

She heard them before she saw them.

“…could get them both fired, you know,” Adam was saying.

Anders snorted. “Who cares if they lose a couple of minimum-wage jobs? Not me.” There was the clink of a bottle hitting glass. Her brothers couldn’t bring plastic cups to the beach like normal people; they brought crystal tumblers. Half the time they forgot them and Allison would find them embedded in the sand. “They deserve worse.”

“It’s bullshit what he did to Allison,” Adam said, and Allison froze. No, she thought. Please don’t let Adam be referring to Matt. Don’t let Anders have told him.

“Allison shouldn’t have screwed that loser in the first place,” Anders said dismissively.

Of course he told. Anders told Adam everything. Allison wanted to bang her head—or better yet, Anders’s head—against a rock.

“He shouldn’t have dared touch her,” Adam said. Even though it was none of Adam’s business, Allison felt a small surge of warmth at Adam’s protectiveness. Then, unfortunately, he kept talking. “It’s like it didn’t occur to him that our family is completely out of his league. Imagine Mother sharing a bastard grandchild with her assistant. That’s not how the next generation is supposed to start. Thank God it’s done with.”

Allison closed her eyes against the prick of angry tears. She shouldn’t have expected any better, but it still hurt that Adam managed to make even her miscarriage all about him.

“It’s not over,” Anders said. “He’s still with my whore of a girlfriend.”

“You have a one-track mind,” Adam yawned.

Allison had heard enough. She turned back for the elevator, Anders’s reply floating toward her just before she stepped out of hearing range.

“The world would be a better place without them in it.”

“Here we go again,” Milly murmurs as Gran’s chauffeur pulls the Bentley onto the main road leading to Catmint House.

“Thanks for coming,” I say gratefully. “I’m so nervous.”

“No problem. I don’t think she’ll let me in, though. She did specify just you.”

“I know. But why does she get to call all the shots, all the time?”

Milly’s lips quirk. “Probably because she has all the money.”

My cousin has been dry-eyed and composed ever since we left Uncle Archer’s, and she’s refused to talk about anything except this meeting with Mildred. Still, there’s a melancholy air about her that tugs at my heart, so I try again. “Do you think Jonah—” I start.

Milly shifts her eyes out the window. “Not yet, okay?”

I study her profile. I wasn’t surprised by her kiss with Jonah at the Summer Gala; if anything, I was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. And