Page 6 of Summer on Lilac Island

“Dr. Kentwood is supporting Dr. Moore at the clinic this summer, what with the influx of fudgies and all their antics.” Eloise

paused to frown but resumed her prior perkiness as she dove into Dr. Kentwood’s descriptors. “Early thirties, devilishly handsome,

and single as a slice of Kraft cheese. Now, he’s not an islander,” she went on, like this was one strike against him, “but

he’s of wholesome Midwestern stock, rest assured.”

Gigi immediately rescinded any hopes of a harmonious summer. She felt even more infuriated with herself than with Eloise.

She should have known there was no such thing as free rent.

“What a relief,” Gigi deadpanned. “And why is he here?” It didn’t check out that any young, single doctor would choose to

be isolated out on Mackinac Island.

“Because he values the close-knit community and plethora of opportunities the island offers,” Eloise said, as if reciting

from a tourist pamphlet. “He’s only been here two weeks and the islanders are swooping in to set him up. It’s something of

a wife hunt, all very exciting. We’re hoping meeting a good woman will persuade him to put down roots here.”

Gigi found the term wife hunt as gruesome as witch hunt . “Is he looking for a wife?” she asked.

“Seems that way,” Eloise said. “Not everyone enjoys frolicking from fling to fling, you know.”

This was something, Gigi thought, given Eloise knew almost nothing about her dating life and how the breakups were never—or at least very rarely—Gigi’s fault.

Any decent mother would be commending her daughter for knowing her worth, for refusing to settle, but here Gigi was getting attacked the moment she arrived.

“I don’t frolic,” Gigi said, thinking about her long list of exes. “I’m just not going to marry the first person I date and

wind up divorced.” She almost added like you did but caught herself just in time.

“Well, I don’t think even you will have much to critique in Dr. Kentwood,” Eloise said. “He’s a veritable catch and he’s picking

you up on Thursday at half past six. I know it’s a bit soon after your arrival, but it was the only night he was free. He’s

very popular, like I said, and such a devoted doctor.”

“Unbelievable.” Gigi was torn between competing desires to laugh and scream. The result was a strained cackle. “I’ve been

here five minutes and you’re already meddling.”

“I’m not meddling. I’m looking out for you.”

“You’re auctioning me off to the highest bidder.”

“Dr. Kentwood isn’t bidding for you, Georgiana. I had to lobby him, if you must know.”

Gigi couldn’t help but choke on the missed humor of it all.

“Lillian Tong’s been spotted with him twice this past week,” Eloise added. “ Twice .”

This piqued Gigi’s interest. “I thought Lillian was married.” She clearly remembered Eloise telling Gigi about the engagement,

with the implication that Gigi was falling behind.

“Jilted, two weeks before the wedding. He was from Boston,” Eloise added, as if this explained it.

East Coasters—and West Coasters—were all depraved in her eyes.

“She came back to the island a few weeks ago to recover from the distress of it all and help her parents with the Pink Pony. There’s such a labor crunch, no surprise given how the president has been ballooning the deficit, doling out handouts like there’s no tomorrow.

But maybe you and Lillian can reconnect.

I’m sure she could use a friend right now. ”

“So you’re telling me who I should date and be friends with?” Gigi said. “This just gets better and better.”

“You and Lillian used to be so close,” Eloise noted, in that sad way mothers did when they recalled how their cargo-pants-wearing

daughters used to love frilly pink dresses. “I’m just saying maybe this summer could be a fresh start.”

“I don’t want a fresh start.” Gigi rarely thought about Lillian anymore. They hadn’t been close since middle school. Lillian

hogged the spotlight as they got older, with all her talents in clarinet and tennis and academics, and then the boyfriend-stealing

incident senior year had added insult to injury.

“And no offense, Mother,” Gigi replied now, “but I don’t exactly think you’re qualified to be my matchmaker. Given you have

the dating life of a nun.”

Gigi watched the words sting Eloise and tried to tell herself she was glad for it.

Eloise recovered swiftly. “My judgment can’t possibly be worse than those dating app things,” she said.

Privately, Gigi conceded that Eloise might have a point. Given the impossibility of dating on Mackinac, Gigi had deleted her

apps on the flight from LA and felt a weight lift.

“You’re living under my roof now, rent-free, I might remind you,” Eloise went on. “Dinner with the doctor seems like the very

least you can do to express your thanks.”

Gigi groaned, anticipating all the ways Eloise would continue to use this as leverage. “I’ll move in with Nonni,” Gigi said.

Enduring flavorless porridge and conservative radio talk shows (Gigi’s grandmother made Eloise look like a moderate) would

be nothing compared to this.

“Nonni helped arrange the date,” Eloise said. “She played pickleball with the doctor, primed him with compliments about you.”

Gigi groaned. The whole plot felt like satirical fiction—marrying off the prodigal daughter to the town doctor. Gigi would

have to tip off Clyde on the story lead.

As she thought of Clyde, an idea dropped into her mind. It promised trouble, so she held on to it.

“All right,” Gigi said. “I’ll go.”

“You will?” Eloise had clearly anticipated more of a fight.

“Under one condition.” Gigi’s lips curled. She was beginning to enjoy herself, knowing Eloise would never agree to it. She’d

get so flustered that she’d call off the whole thing and never dare to interfere again. It would teach her a much-needed lesson.

“You agree to go on a date with someone I set you up with.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Georgiana.”

“ I’m ridiculous? You’re the one orchestrating an arranged marriage. And besides,” Gigi said, voice softening, “it’s about time

you come out of hibernation. Have you even been on one date in the twenty years since Dad left?”

Eloise blanched. “I enjoy the company of many friends.”

It was playing out just as Gigi had thought it would.

“All right, I guess the deal is off then.” Gigi feigned disappointment. “And to think I was going to brush my hair out of

my eyes and wear my most modest turtleneck for the occasion...”

Vexation flashed across Eloise’s face. She busied herself at the sink, though there were no dishes to wash. “Who?” she finally

asked over the running water. “Who would the date be with?”

Gigi was surprised Eloise even asked. Unless it was Gus, Eloise had no interest in men. She clearly just couldn’t keep from

prying.

“A Mr. Clyde MacDougal.” Gigi presented his name slowly, for effect. “Hailing from across the Atlantic.”

Eloise stole a glance back at Gigi. “The Scottish author?”

“You’ve read his books?” Gigi hadn’t yet gotten around to googling to see how famous Clyde was, and she felt a lurch of excitement

that he might be a household name.

“No, but Deirdre called about him before you arrived. Told me she’d just met the most amiable fellow who was staying at the Grand Hotel for the summer, working on his next novel. She was in quite a tizzy, frankly.”

Gigi decided now was not the opportune time to point out that being in a tizzy was Deirdre’s natural state. She was too eager

to trap Eloise in her own snare.

“That’s correct,” Gigi said. “So, what do you say? You go on a date with Clyde and I’ll go on a date with the doctor.”

Gigi waited for Eloise to decline and lecture her on how daughters should stay out of their mothers’ personal matters. But

Eloise just fiddled with the lavender in the kitchen table vase, turning the sprigs this way and that until they were back

in their original position.

A rap came at the side door. It swung open and Nonni bustled in, bringing with her a bundle of warmth. As someone who declared

it treason to pass up a piece of pie, her figure was more filled out than Eloise’s but she still moved athletically, a walking

advertisement for hip replacement surgery. No matter the temperature, she always wore high-waisted trousers and a tucked-in

sweater. That, or a bright floral pickleball dress, one of which she was donning now. Lines crisscrossed her velvety skin,

telling of both good times and grief. Her eyes were starting to deteriorate, and she was constantly snacking on carrots. She

was holding a Ziploc bag of them now.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Nonni said to Gigi. “My memory is going. I had your arrival on the calendar for tomorrow. Liam Townsend

just called to say he thought he saw you walking by but you had green hair so he wasn’t sure.”

“Georgiana told me the wrong date,” Eloise said.

Gigi gave her grandmother a hug, letting herself sink into her shoulders the way she didn’t with Eloise. “My hair is blonde,”

she said. “Not green.”

“It does look lime-ish in the light,” Nonni said, stepping back to appraise. “Though you could shave your head and still be

the prettiest thing on this island.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Eloise said.

Nonni dropped a kiss on Gigi’s cheek. Her lipstick stuck, the texture of something several years expired.

“Nonni, you’ll be on my side here,” Gigi said, slipping her hand into Nonni’s. Her skin wasn’t as cold as she remembered.

Maybe because she’d only held her grandmother’s hand in winter for many years. “I’m proposing an amendment to my mother’s

matchmaking scheme that she’s recruited you into.”

“Don’t you gang up on me,” Eloise said. But Gigi could tell Eloise was happy about the fact that her family might be large

enough, united enough, to hold a line.

Gigi explained the deal to Nonni, including how she’d confirmed Clyde was unmarried and looking to date. The only thing Nonni

hated more than liberals were homewreckers.

“I like it but your mother won’t agree to it,” Nonni said. “Not a chance.”