“They’re still at dinner. The restaurant’s really beautiful—it looks out over the beach and there are torches everywhere and the sound of the waves and soft music. . . .” He smiled ruefully. “It was incredibly romantic. And there they were, gazing into each other’s eyes . . . and there I was . . . totally in the way.”
“I know the feeling,” I said. “Mom and Luke were so in love when they first met—I ruined a lot of romantic evenings for them.”
“They probably didn’t mind. They both adore you.”
“And I’m sure your brother is very fond of you.”
“Yeah, okay, good point.”
I glanced over at him as I waved my key card in front of the sensor to unlock the door. He was wearing his usual khakis with a dark blue jacket over a jarringly different shade of blue button-down shirt. “Is there a dress code at the restaurant?”
“Yeah.” He looked down at himself. “This is my suit jacket—it’s the only one I packed. Does it look stupid with these pants?”
“Not with the pants. With the shirt.” I opened the door to a scene of chaos: Jacob standing naked on the sofa screaming and Grandma scuttling around on the floor below him, picking up food that was scattered everywhere as she scolded him for throwing it. Neither of them noticed us standing there, so I quickly slammed the door shut again before we were spotted. “See?” I said to George. “See what I’m dealing with?”
“Yeah. That’s just . . .” He shook his head. “You can’t go in there right now. You want to go back down and check out the beach? Wait for things to calm down?”
“I so do.”
We took the elevator back down to the lobby. As we were crossing through to the ocean side of the hotel, someone called my name and I turned.
It was Michael Marquand, Luke’s best friend and also his music and TV producer—the guy we all owed our lifestyle to. He was dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and a Red Sox baseball cap, and was holding his six-month-old daughter in his arms. I exclaimed in delight and instantly reached for her. Mia eyed me with suspicion; it had been a couple of weeks since I’d last held her and she was ready to stranger-zone me. But once she was in my arms, I cooed at her and bounced her gently, and she relaxed.
“Where’s Crystal?” I asked. Crystal was Michael’s wife and Mia’s mother.
“She’s checking us in.” He gestured toward the front desk. “She always has a lot of specific demands, so I let her take charge.” He yawned. “I’m exhausted. Long flight. Someone didn’t stop screaming the entire trip, and for once it wasn’t me.” Michael was a tall, thin, wiry guy, who normally looked very handsome and a lot younger than his fifty-five years but tonight looked a little ragged.
“She’s being a very good girl now,” I said. Mia was the cutest baby in the world—big dark eyes and a fuzzy brown tuft of hair on top of her head.
“She’s just too worn-out from crying for six straight hours to cry any more.” He turned to George. “Hey, Jonathan! How’s it going?”
“Fine?” George said uncertainly.
I came to his aid. “He’s not Jonathan.”
“I’m his brother,” George added. “People get us confused all the time.”
“Thank you for pretending I’m not an idiot,” Michael said. “Hey, Ellie, I’ve got some good news.”
“Do you?” I said, blowing gently down at the baby, who batted her long eyelashes against the slight breeze. “Does your daddy have good news? Does he? Does he? What’shisgoodnews? What is it?”
“I really don’t think she’s going to answer you,” George said to me. “No matter how many times you ask her.”
Michael said a little impatiently, “Aaron’s coming to live with me!”
I looked up. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope. His mother’s husband got a job in Vermont, and Aaron said he’s not about to move to the middle of nowhere for his last year before college. He thinks LA will be a lot more fun. Crystal and I are thrilled.”
“Yay! Does he know which school yet?”
“Fenwick.”
I pouted. “I was hoping he’d go to Coral Tree with me.”
“Don’t worry, you two will still see plenty of each other. Do we have a room?”
This last was to his approaching wife, who joined us and kissed me on the cheek. “The baby looks so happy with you, Ellie. Would you minding holding her for the next fifteen or sixteen years?” She nodded at George. “Hello, Jonathan.” She turned back to Michael. “Megan’s still in the bathroom.”
“Megan?” I said.
“Our nanny.”
“What happened to Tiana?”
“She quit,” Michael said with a brief dark glance at his wife, who didn’t seem to notice. She was wearing skintight yoga pants, high soft leather boots, and a long cardigan over a low-cut top—I guess in theory it was all comfortable traveling clothing, but she looked pretty incredible. She was a beautiful young woman with long, straight dark hair and large black eyes.
Mia reached her arms out toward her mother. Crystal heaved a sigh, handed Michael her purse and the key cards, then took the baby and propped her up on her hip. “Megan doesn’t know which room we’re in, so someone has to wait for her.” Mia waved her arms and made some complaining sounds. Crystal rolled her eyes and thumped her on the back. “And here we go again. You’d think she’d be all cried out after that horrendous performance on the plane. I’ll take her on up. Michael, you wait for Megan. You know you want to. She’s very beautiful,” she explained to George.
“Not as beautiful as you,” Michael said wearily. “And she’s standing right over there, near the elevators. Let’s go to bed. We’re all overtired. Good night, Ellie. And good night—” He stopped. “I’ve forgotten your name,” he said to George.
“Are you serious?” Crystal said. “How could you forget Jonathan?”
“Because he’s not Jonathan,” Michael said. “This is his brother.”
“Oh.” She studied George. “Identical twins?”
“He’s eight years older than me, actually,” George said apologetically.
She pressed her lips together, then said, “Huh. Well, good night.” They left.
“You know what the easiest thing would be?” I said to George. “For you just to be Jonathan for the rest of the weekend. Especially since you don’t seem to like correcting people.”
“I couldn’t correct Michael Marquand,” he said. “He discovered Dense Keys.”
“Who or what is that?”
“Are you kidding me? Ellie, you’re a Philistine. How can you know so little about music when your stepfather is Luke Weston?”
“I don’t know. We talk about other stuff, I guess.” We headed down the wide, carpeted stairway that led to the pool-level lower floor.
George said, “So who’s Aaron and why are we so happy he’s coming to LA?”
“He’s Michael’s son by his first wife.”
“So the wife I just met is number two?”
“Three, actually. There was this young actress in between.”
“Crystal isn’t exactly old.”
“This one was even younger. I believe the words ‘cradle robbing’ were used, but I’m not telling you by who, except it was my mom. It didn’t last long.”
The hallway at the bottom of the stairs ended in glass doors that led out to the back of the resort. George held one open for me and I stepped through. “Wow, it’s really beautiful here.” I stopped to look around. Torches were lit all around us, outlining the paths to the pool and the beach, and their flickering glow tinged everything burnt orange. Palm tree leaves stirred against the blue-black sky. You could hear the ocean from where we were, but the sound was just a gentle rise and fall behind the uneven clash of voices laughing and talking from the patio restaurant. I breathed in the salty-smoky air and closed my eyes briefly to enjoy it. “Why is anyone inside when they could be out here? Why would anyone be anywhere else in the world right now?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice.”