Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Rose

I try not to have an open-mouthed gape at the house when we arrive on Ruby Island like a kid on their first visit to FAO Schwarz, and fail spectacularly. It’s huge. I mean, what did I expect—the Weiss family owns the entire island. I guess I’d kinda anticipated a small beach with a sprawling, white Gone-With-the-Wind -type property situated at the top of a grassy hill, but boy, was I wrong.

The speedboat docks at a private jetty—I’ll never get used to someone owning things like jetties and islands and airplanes—and we’re collected by a man in khaki pants and a polo-neck shirt, driving a six-seater buggy. He addresses Brandon and Damon by their first names, but neither brother introduces him to me and Jennifer.

The island is flat, with beaches reached by wooden walkways and signposted with old-fashioned wooden posts reminiscent of the Hundred Acre Wood sign from the Winnie-the Pooh books. Shell Beach. Swimming Beach. Picnic Beach. Small Beach. So, when we turn a corner and the house comes into view, I draw in a sharp breath, prompting an eye roll from Brandon and laughter from his brother Damon.

“I think that’s the reaction our mother was trying to achieve when she had the designs drawn up,” Damon says.

“Not bad for a vacation home, is it?” Jennifer twists around in her seat to peer at the house, her smooth, dark-skinned arm dangling over the side of the buggy.

Brandon proceeds to tell the group in general how much cedar wood was used during construction of the building, and where his mother shopped for the furniture to complete the interior design.

I’m only half-listening. I don’t want him to bore me with the practical details—it’s like gazing at Van Gogh’s ‘The Starry Night’ and having someone point out the brushstrokes on the canvas. I literally cannot imagine sitting down with a bunch of architects and giving them the brief for a house like this. I can’t even begin to imagine how many guest rooms there are.

“Most of the guest rooms are in a separate building,” Brandon adds as if reading my mind. I guess that’s where I’ll be staying then . “To allow the guests the freedom to explore the island at their leisure.”

“You’ll have your work cut out keeping them all in check,” Jennifer says, with a grin my way. “Let’s hope Ruby Weiss has warned them of the punishment they’ll receive should they fail to follow the itinerary.”

“Going to bed without supper?” I suggest before I can stop myself.

Damon laughs again. “You clearly don’t know my mother at all. It will be fifty points deducted from their treasure hunt score … at the very least.”

We all chuckle at this—all apart from Brandon who keeps his eyes on the impressive fa?ade which is slowly growing closer.

I stare at the swing seats on the wraparound porch, the fairy-lit canopy overhead, and the adult-sized potted plants in pristine white containers. There’s a tire swing attached to a huge tree on the lawn, a wooden playhouse the size of a trailer for the kids, a tennis court, and a winding path leading to landscaped gardens that appear to have different themes looking at the Japanese pagoda and the mini-Taj Mahal.

When the buggy stops, Brandon is the first to jump down. He offers Jennifer a hand, which she accepts, and then leads her toward the porch where Ruby Weiss is waiting for us.

“You’ll have to excuse my brother,” Damon says, climbing down next. Rather than offering me his hand, he grabs my waist and lifts me off the buggy, setting me down in front of him, his warm hands lingering on me a beat too long.

“Thank you,” I say, extricating myself and stepping away.

The driver puts my suitcase on the ground, and I go to pick it up, but Damon shakes his head. “Graham will bring your luggage. Come with me, and I’ll show you around before my mom gets her claws into you.”

I feel uneasy about Damon showing me around the house, but I don’t want to sound ungrateful, or make an enemy of both Ruby’s sons before I’ve even begun, so I follow him toward the house, walking in Brandon and Jennifer’s shadows. Brandon doesn’t even glance backward. So much for trying to be pleasant while we’re both under the same roof.

I take a deep breath and puff up my cheeks.

Damon must notice because he says, “Don’t take it personally. My brother is the unsociable one unless you have a business proposition for him.”

“That obvious, huh?” I give him a half-smile and keep my distance.

Damon might be the more sociable one of the two Weiss sons, but there’s something about him that raises my hackles like a cat sensing danger. I might be overreacting—something else Jess claims I’m guilty of—but I didn’t imagine the feel of his hands around my waist. Three hours in, and I’ve already been too close to both brothers. Thank God there are only two of them.

“Mom.” Damon steps onto the porch and kisses his mom’s cheeks, then stands aside. “I’ve offered to show Rose around, help her get her bearings before cocktails.”

Ruby’s smile barely reaches her eyes. “Your father wants to see you in the study. Kelly can look after Rose—I’ve a little assignment for them to complete before the guests arrive.”

“See what I mean,” Damon says to me. “You’ve barely set foot on the porch, and you’ve been enlisted for one of Mom’s projects. Make sure she gives you the breaks you’re entitled to.” He turns around and heads inside the house without another word to his mom.

Brandon and Jennifer have already disappeared, and I find myself wondering if they’ll go straight to their rooms— room, singular? —or if Jennifer will be given a sightseeing tour of the island too before the celebrations get underway.

Business associates Jennifer said on the plane, but Damon didn’t believe her. Why? What did he know that neither of them was saying out loud? My cheeks burn when I think of them in bed together, all naked limbs and writhing bodies, and I chew my bottom lip to quash the feel of his lips on mine.

“Rose!” Ruby greets me with an outstretched arm as if I was the one she’d been waiting for. “I trust you enjoyed the flight.”

“It was…”—I shrug and smile at her— “probably the most comfortable flight I’ve ever experienced.”

Ruby’s smile is genuine. “I would show you around myself, but I still have so much to do, and my husband’s gift has been delayed in transit. Our closest friends will be arriving later today, and everyone else will be here tomorrow. I hope it’s enough time for you to get acquainted with the itinerary and the layout of the island.”

“I’m sure it will be,” I say, warning myself to pay attention. I get the impression that Ruby Weiss will only explain something once.

“Ah, let me introduce you to Kelly, my daughter-in-law.”

Ruby turns to face the woman who is walking out of the house as her husband enters, exchanging tight-lipped smiles and fleeting glances. It’s only when Damon realizes that his mom and I are both watching that he bends slightly to kiss his wife’s cheek, and she accepts it with her eyes averted. I don’t know when Kelly arrived on the island, or how long the couple has been apart, but I can feel the frost in the air between them from here.

“Hello.” Kelly shakes my hand in a formal greeting. She has a lovely smile and perfect teeth, but it’s staged, like a wedding guest whose cheeks are aching from hours of saying ‘ Cheese ’ on demand. “I’m sure Ruby has already thanked you, but we don’t know how we’d have managed without you stepping in at the last minute.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I blurt out. “I’m sure Brandon will tell you all about his suit I ruined.” I cringe inwardly at the unintended innuendo and wonder what it is about Ruby Weiss’s eldest son that always seems to bring out the clumsy fifteen-year-old in me. “Red wine,” I quickly add when I see Ruby’s bemused expression.

“And if I know my son, he allowed you to take all the blame.”

I swallow, relief gushing through my veins. Ruby might be the intimidating wife of a billionaire, but she doesn’t have her sons on a pedestal that she can’t knock down a peg or two. “My friend didn’t let him.”

“Accidents happen,” Kelly says. “Brandon can seem a little…” she hesitates, choosing her words carefully.

“Unapproachable?” I suggest.

“Oh, you’re going to fit in just fine,” Ruby says. “We all know that isn’t the word you were looking for, don’t we?”

I can’t help laughing. “Sorry. I know he’s your son, but, well, my friend’s little girl got her sticky fingers all over his pants leg, and it was a downward spiral from that moment on.”

“Don’t apologize.” Ruby shakes her head. “If he can run a multi-billion-dollar business, he can deal with a dry-cleaning invoice. Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have an important call to make.”

I watch as Ruby walks back into the house. The buggy and our luggage have vanished, and I still have no idea what’s expected of me other than ensuring the guests are in the right place at the right time with a drink in their hand.

“Where shall we start?” Kelly asks.

“Maybe you could try pinching me.” I know I sound like an excitable teenager, but I can’t wait to send some pictures of this place to Jess.

We explore the house first.

The dining room on the ground floor is the size of a gymnasium, complete with crystal chandeliers and a gleaming table with an elaborate floral centerpiece that looks as if it cost more than I could earn in a year. The den is filled with squashy, pumpkin-colored couches, a cinema-sized flat-screen TV, and a popcorn machine in one corner which I assume is for the kids. The more formal day area is divided into separate seating areas with low coffee tables, palm trees in the corners, and elaborate, colonial-style wooden drinks cabinets. Huge white ceiling fans provide the gentle breeze on our faces and complete the effect.

The guest bedrooms in the main house are themed: the 20s room with lacquered screen, voile curtains, and a tasseled four-poster; the Victorian room with wood-paneled walls and brocade comforter; the ocean room decorated in shades of blue with nautical accessories.

There are two kitchens—one for family use, and one for the chef brought in to cater for this week’s celebrations. Multiple restrooms so that the guests—when the house is full—don’t have to wait in line. A playroom for the children, and a mud room for inclement weather.

“I’m going to need a map,” I say to Kelly.

“You’ll soon get used to it.” We’re strolling down a wooden walkway to Shell Beach. “Once I’ve shown you to your room, I’d suggest getting lost. I mean that in the nicest possible way,” she adds. “It’s not as daunting as first impressions would have you believe.”

I’m guessing Kelly is in her early thirties. Her thick blonde hair is naturally wavy and glossy, shampoo-advertisement worthy. Her clothes are not ostentatious (even if they are designer-labeled): white linen slacks and a floral shirt with coordinated yellow beads around her neck.

I think of Damon knocking back champagne on the flight, and I can’t picture the two of them together, or perhaps I’m still dwelling unnecessarily on the way he lifted me down from the buggy. Damon is a whisky and cigar kind of guy, while Kelly is strawberries and cream. He’d enjoy watching a violent thriller in his leisure time, while she’s a rom-com kind of gal.

I guess they say that opposites attract.

“Is there anything I should know?” I ask. “About the family?”

“Harry is a silver fox,” Kelly says. “You’ll fall instantly in love with him, and he’ll be the ultimate charming host, but underneath the Richard Gere looks, is a shrewd mind. Harry Weiss doesn’t need the internet to learn what makes people tick. He’ll reward you if he believes you’ve earned it, but you won’t want to be on the receiving end of his temper if you try playing him for a fool.”

I wonder what he thinks of his sons’ bickering when they’re together. I haven’t figured out yet what Damon’s role within the family business is, but from Jennifer’s comment on the plane, I get the impression that he’s coasting through life while Brandon does all the work.

“Ruby,” Kelly continues, “well, you’ve met Ruby. She tells it like it is even if you don’t want to hear it. Pay attention to detail is the best advice I can give you. Ruby will notice if a napkin isn’t folded the way she likes it or if the label on the champagne bottle is facing the wrong way. These things might not matter to you, but they do to her.”

I nod. “Got it.”

Pause.

I really want to know more about their sons, but I don’t want Kelly to get the wrong impression and mark me as a gold-digger. I wait for her to say more, and when she doesn’t, I bite the bullet, and say, “What about Brandon?”

Her step falters, and she glances at me sideways, but I force myself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, no emotion on my face. I hope.

What do I even want to know about him? Why did he bring Jennifer rather than coming alone or bringing a girlfriend? Why is there such antagonism between him and Damon? Why does he look as if he would rather be anywhere else than here?

“Brandon lives and breathes Weiss Petroleum,” Kelly says.

Am I imagining it, or is there an edge to her voice now?

“Ruby will have pre-warned him not to discuss business this week, but you can guarantee that he will check in with Julia at least twice a day, and he’ll know the exact worth of the company’s shares on the NYSE at any given moment.”

We arrive at Shell Beach then, and I immediately know how it got its name. A small cove overlooking the sparkling ocean, it’s filled with boulders and shallow rock pools in which the shells collect when the tide is in and get left behind when the water retreats again. It’s beautiful.

The shells make the beach look pink, and I slide my phone out of my pocket to take a picture for Izzie. “For my friend’s little girl.” I crouch and run my hands through the shells, enjoying the satisfying scrunching sound beneath my fingertips. I find a tiny pink unicorn horn and tuck it inside my pocket; they were my favorite shells when I was a little girl.

Walking back to the house, I ask another question. “Do they get on, Brandon and Damon?”

Kelly takes a deep breath before she answers. “They’re competitive,” she says. “Typical brothers.” She looks at me then. “Do you have siblings?”

I swallow hard. “No. I was a twin, but my brother was stillborn.” My voice cracks. Twenty-five years, and I still haven’t learned to speak about it without my voice abandoning me.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Kelly says. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Before I can give her the standard response of, ‘ It’s fine, no need to apologize ,’ we hear a child crying from somewhere near the house.

“It’s Georgie,” Kelly says, picking up speed.

We both jog toward the sound, the cries growing louder and shriller, the closer we get. As we round a bend in the walkway and the house comes into view, Brandon comes striding towards us carrying the screaming child in his arms. He has changed out of his suit and into beige pants, neatly creased down the middle, and a blue sweater.

He isn’t smiling.

“What happened?” Kelly runs to him and takes the child, who wraps her legs around her mom’s waist like a koala bear.

“She fell off the tire swing.” Brandon’s gaze slides my way as if he might’ve known I’d be involved somehow.

“She shouldn’t have been on it alone.” Kelly strokes her daughter’s hair, and murmurs, “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll be okay. No damage done.”

“Frankie was pushing her,” Brandon says.

“Where’s Damon?” Kelly is facing Brandon, and I can’t see her expression, but I can hear the brittleness in her tone. Perhaps her husband should’ve been watching the children.

“I’m not my brother’s keeper,” Brandon says.

“I know.” Kelly bumps the child up and down on her hip. “I’m sorry,” she says, and I bristle. Why is she apologizing to him when the guy is so abrasive to everyone around him? “Can you take Georgie back to the house while I finish showing Rose around?”

Brandon’s eyes narrow at the child, and the screams grow even louder.

Georgie clings more tightly to her mom’s neck, burying her face in Kelly’s shoulder. Blood is trickling down her shin from a graze on her left knee. “No, Mommy,” she wails. “My knee is sore.”

“She doesn’t want to come with me,” Brandon says.

“Can you show Rose to her guestroom then?” Kelly asks. His face contorts as he tries to think up a plausible excuse, and Kelly adds, “Please.”

I step closer. “May I?” I ask Kelly, unlooping Georgie’s arms from around her neck.

“N-no!” the child cries between sobs. “Want Mommy.”

“I know you want Mommy because your knee hurts,” I say, “but I have something special that will make it all better. Do you want to see it?”

Georgie rests her head on her mom’s chest and watches me, curious now that I’ve offered her a gift.

I slide the pink shell from my pocket and hold it up so that Georgie can see it. “This is a unicorn horn,” I say. “It has special, magic healing powers for sore knees. Do you want to hold it?”

The child nods and holds out a smooth pudgy hand.

I turn it over and place the shell in her palm. “How about we go inside, clean up your knee, and find a pretty pink bandaid , huh?”

She nods, transferring her arms from her mom’s neck to mine, and I settle her on my hip, the way I do with Izzie. Georgie is heavier than Izzie. She smells of sand and honey, and I smooth her hair away from her face, finding Kelly’s features beneath the blonde curls.

“Want to find Frankie and Charlie,” she says.

“We’ll find Frankie and Charlie.” I turn to Kelly. “Bandaids—kitchen or bathroom?”

“Kitchen. I’ll come with you.” She goes to follow, and I shake my head.

“I’ll get lost,” I say with a grin.

Walking back to the house, the silence between the two people behind me is a tangible thing, like solid metal keeping them apart, and I wonder if this is down to the unmistakable sibling rivalry. I glance up in time to see Damon watching me from an upstairs window.