Page 9 of Summer on Lilac Island

This was exactly why Rebecca hadn’t asked Gigi to be her maid of honor.

It would have been inviting calamity into the wedding.

As if Gigi would have actually enjoyed the role of maid of honor—wearing a long ball gown, holding Rebecca’s train, having to stick to a schedule.

No, she would have hated it. Rebecca had done her a favor really, though remorse had been gnawing.

There was already enough drama with her dad not coming.

How could he have thought that Rebecca would ask him to walk her down the aisle?

After all he had done, or more aptly, all he hadn’t done.

And then to have him be so outraged over the perceived slight that he skipped the wedding altogether. .. Well, it

was his loss, though it felt like hers too.

From the time she was a little girl, or at least a teenager, Rebecca had made peace with the fact that her dad wasn’t going

to be there for her in the ways a father should. She didn’t have the same expectations of him that Gigi did. Rebecca wondered

if that was why she’d been able to let a man into her life and marry him, whereas Gigi still seemed unable to commit to anyone

for more than three months.

Still, Rebecca couldn’t help but feel hurt at how Gus favored Gigi. It made sense, she supposed, given how Gigi had gone easy

on him after he’d bailed, whereas Rebecca had actually held him responsible for his actions. But the logic didn’t make the

letdown any better.

Rebecca had called Gus several times to catch up since the wedding, but it always went to voicemail. He’d texted a couple

times, as if that were the same.

“Eloise has a motive too, though,” Gigi carried on over the phone. “She’s only going out with him so I will meet the esteemed

Dr. Kentwood.”

Rebecca didn’t like it. It was one thing for Gigi to be an inept pyro in her own love life, another when their mother might

bear the burn scars. “I don’t want Mom getting hurt.”

She gave the sauce a stir. It was lumpy and brown, nothing like the smooth, gingery sauce in the pictures. For being such

a rule abider, she struggled with even the simplest recipes. It depressed her more than it should.

“Eloise isn’t going to get hurt from one date,” Gigi said. “You’re the one who’s always saying she needs to get out more.”

“Because I lived on the island with her for twenty-five years,” Rebecca said. “Including the years when you were gallivanting across the country.”

When Gigi absconded, Rebecca was left behind to be the responsible, devoted daughter. The daughter who’d commuted two hours

each way to college, sacrificing her social life to live at home. The daughter who’d gotten a remote digital marketing job

after graduation so she wouldn’t have to move. Eloise had never explicitly asked her to stay, but she’d made enough comments

about how she wouldn’t know what she’d do if Rebecca left. They had stuck, the adhesive of a thousand flimsy sticky notes

fusing into a potent glue.

“There you go again, thinking you know Eloise better than I do,” Gigi said.

“Stop calling her Eloise.” Gigi had a way of corroding Rebecca’s composure. “I do know Mom better; it’s just a fact. And her

going out with this random guy is a bad idea. It could go very wrong.”

“Or it could go very right. What if Clyde ends up being the man of her dreams? What if she gets her second chance at happily

ever after?”

“You don’t actually believe that,” Rebecca said. “You’re just being the contrarian.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Gigi allowed. “But Eloise— Mom —is old enough to make her own decisions. It’s really none of our business.”

“Mom also decides to let Dad stay in her bedroom whenever he visits.” Rebecca felt her blood pressure rising. “Is that a good

decision too? None of our business?”

“That’s just more proof of why we should encourage her to date. She needs to get over Dad once and for all.”

This was something they both agreed on. “I know that,” Rebecca said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m in the wrong. I always am.” Gigi wasn’t bad at apologizing so long as someone else went first.

“Maybe I’m just jealous.” Rebecca added yogurt to the sauce, folding it all together. “You managed to get Mom to go on a date within one day of being back, when I’ve been dropping hints for years and she’s always shut me down.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll always be the golden child,” Gigi said cheerily. “I just might as well put my problematic personality

to good use while I’m here. Shake things up.”

“I’ll be expecting live updates,” Rebecca said. “Follow them around and video chat me so I can see.”

“I’d be grounded for eternity.”

“Since when has the threat of punishment ever stopped you?” Rebecca asked, a smile forming. She felt closer to Gigi than she

had in a while, like she could feel the lessening of their physical distance. California was a foreign country as far as Rebecca

was concerned, and she was glad to have Gigi back in Michigan for a little while, even with the complications it brought.

It was nice to know their mother and grandmother had Gigi around to help. Perhaps Rebecca wouldn’t have to be the adult quite

so much. It was a strange prospect more than a good one.

“Make sure Mom wears something attractive,” Rebecca added. “Not one of those hideous potato-sack dresses she’s had since the

eighties.”

“I’ll see what I can do. She doesn’t listen to me like she listens to you.”

Rebecca couldn’t deny it and didn’t want to. “Let me know about your date too. With the doctor.”

“I’ll grit my teeth and bear it. Like a root canal or a personal finance lecture.”

“I thought you liked first dates,” Rebecca said. “The free meal, the ability to lie about yourself without being fact-checked...”

“Not on Mackinac with the whole island watching. The euchre ladies will blow it all out of proportion, you know they will.”

“They care about you. And you can’t rule out Dr. Kentwood before you’ve even met him.”

“Of course I can. If Eloise approves of him, that’s all I need to know.”

“Just keep an open mind,” Rebecca said. “When I met Tom, I didn’t think it was going anywhere.”

Rebecca had been standing off to the side at a rooftop bar at the end of the bachelorette party, tired of her friends’ boozy

games. A cute guy had come up and asked to buy her a drink. Rebecca told him she didn’t drink. She’d expected him to make

her feel lame for it, but he’d smiled and said she seemed like a responsible woman, that he was looking for one of those.

Everyone had bet Gigi would be the one to marry young, given her teenage promiscuity. Rebecca had slipped under the radar.

“I know the story,” Gigi cut in. “I would’ve made a very nice speech about it at the wedding if you’d asked me, but that’s

right, you asked Maggie. Your best friend forever.”

Gigi’s words hit a nerve. The truth was that Maggie had moved to North Carolina with her husband and had been so wrapped up

in her new life that Rebecca felt like the bottom of Maggie’s priority list. Even before the wedding Rebecca had felt them

drifting apart, but she couldn’t demote Maggie once she’d already asked her. Rebecca respected convention, unlike her sister.

“Gigi,” Rebecca said. “I thought we decided to put that behind us.”

“We did,” Gigi said, though the phrase felt loaded. “So long as you’re not offended when I don’t ask you to be in my wedding

to the doctor. It’ll probably be next month, what with the speed of Mom’s scheming.”

“I’ll look out for a save-the-date,” Rebecca said, glad they could at least joke about it now. It was progress from the silent

treatment phase, which had lasted several months. Perhaps this was the summer they would grow closer again, find their stride

as adult sisters.

“I’m going to order Clyde’s books,” Rebecca said, googling them on her phone while keeping an eye on the stove. “It’ll be

good to see what worldviews he espouses.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Gigi cautioned. “They’re just getting dinner.”

“I know that.” Rebecca quickly scanned the book reviews. They were highly polarized, a good sign. She’d always felt that the

best books caused the biggest splits in opinion. “Tom’s home from work,” Rebecca said as the hum of the garage door signaled

his arrival. “I have to go.”

“You’re not still cooking for him, are you?” Gigi asked, vitriol in her voice.

“So what if I am?”

“It’s so traditional.”

“ I’m traditional.”

“No, Mom is traditional and shoved it on you,” Gigi said. “Like Nonni did to her.”

“For the last time, I took Tom’s last name because I wanted to.” Rebecca was tired of having to defend her choice. “Not because

anyone pressured me to abandon myself .” The only pressure she’d felt was from Gigi.

“It’s your conditioning,” Gigi said, taking on that patronizing tone. “You think you have a choice, but you really don’t.

That’s how the patriarchy survives, through caged women who think they’re free. It’s good you moved away. You’ll have space

to figure out who you are.”

“I already know who I am,” Rebecca said, though the words hung in the kitchen like fog. Not heavy enough to drop, not light

enough to rise. More than her name had changed since getting married. “And I’m not always the victim.” Not like you , she wanted to add but didn’t, just hung up and turned the stove down to a simmer as she went to greet her husband at the

door.