Page 40 of These Summer Storms

Emily and Claudia sat together on the far side of the butcher block table, steaming stoneware mugs in hand, but Claudia rose and pressed a kiss to Emily’s temple almost as soon as the screen door slammed shut behind Elisabeth. “I’m going to let you guys have some time.”

“Are you sure?” Alice said with a little smile. “This is definitely going to be fun.”

Claudia returned the smile. “I’m sure. There’s mushroom tea if anyone wants any; I left it on the counter.”

“Is it hallucinogenic?” Alice whispered.

“No!” Claudia looked horrified at the prospect, which was curious, as Alice knew for a fact that her sister and her partner weren’t exactly abstemious when it came to mind-altering substances.

“A disappointment,” Alice replied.

“No one is drinking hallucinogenic tea,” Elisabeth said, as though that were an actual option, reaching a hand out to Claudia—a movement that shocked Alice more than she’d like to admit, especially when it was followed with, “Claudia, love. You don’t have to leave. You’re family.”

Alice looked to Sam, who was clearly annoyed by the pronouncement. In the entirety of their marriage, Elisabeth had never referred to Sila asfamily.If anything, she’d been the antithesis of it. The woman who pulled Sam’s attention away from his mother. Furthermore, if Elisabeth ever called Sam’s wifelove,Alice would immediately suspect a stroke.

But Claudia, she was steady and quiet, a balance for Emily and for Elisabeth—present, but never needy. Strong, but never overbearing. And more than all that? Knew well enough to stay out of the fray.

“I have some client appointments I have to move,” she said, “but I will see you for lunch—Emily said Lorraine made her chicken salad.”

“Of course she did,” Elisabeth said, warmly. “We know it’s your favorite.”

Alice’s eyes went wide, and she met Greta’s clear gaze, a tilt of her chin the only indication that Greta understood her surprise.

Then Claudia was gone, and their mother returned. “If we have a few hundred people coming this weekend, I cannot abide a house in chaos, you four.”

Everyone looked around the impeccably tidy kitchen, perpetually prepared for anArchitectural Digestspread. Greta spoke. “Mom. The house looks perfect.”

“The pantry doesn’t,” Elisabeth replied. “Someone’s left their luggage inside.”

Alice leaned back on her stool and looked into the little room. Sure enough, there, on the far side, sat her suitcase and her canvas satchel. “It’s mine.”

“You have a perfectly good room upstairs, Alice. Why is your luggage in the pantry?”

Alice looked at Sam. “I don’t know, Sam, why are my bags in the pantry?”

He ignored her and stared at his phone, typing. Just when Alice was ready to pronounce him the worst, the phone spoke. “How. Should. I. Know.”

The disembodied voice had everyone turning to look as Sam offered a grin that could only be described as shit-eating, and he typed again. “Loophole.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Cool—can the phone help you descale the skiffs, too?”

Sam scowled.

“If the two of you are through,” Elisabeth said, coming to stand at one end of the kitchen island, “I have something I want to say.”

Quiet fell, everyone anticipating what bomb Elisabeth might lob. “Your father never met a stranger. People around the world loved him, and I don’t believe it was for his money. Entirely. After all, I loved him, too.” She paused and Alice wondered if she was considering whether or not to qualify the statement. Something like,I loved him, too, once. For three years, six months, and eleven days.

Evidently deciding against it, Elisabeth finished. “In celebration ofthat, we will open the island on Monday for his…” She searched for a word, settling oncommunity.It came out strangled. As though she’d never really considered the concept, and now that she had, she wasn’t sure she cared for it. “And I hope it will be…not sad.”

When no one spoke, she punctuated the statement. “There.”

It seemed the children were expected to respond, so they did—nothing if not receptive to their mother’s expectations.

Emily started. “I love that you’re setting such a positive intention, Mom. Maybe we can meditate on it later.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Elisabeth replied.

“Sounds. Good.” Sam’s phone chimed in.