2. The North in Southlake, Dasham

Southlake, Texas

"Dasham Richmond, you do understand that you're only fifteen years old?" Amelia asked, but it wasn't the question it seemed, since she regularly said I didn't act my age. As my nanny, I suppose she'd know.

I didn't respond from my seat on the edge of the bed. My feet rested on the side rail, my elbows on my knees. Amelia stood in my closet, pulling out hanger after hanger, showing me various articles of clothing.

Amelia had been with me since birth. She knew me better than anyone. Right now, we played the staring game, and I was winning. I always did. Eventually, she rolled her eyes. Her shoulders followed the same pattern as she turned to the rack of clothes and placed the oversized short-sleeve shirt on the rod.

"If you don't stop rejecting these clothes, you're not gonna have anything to take out of town with you."

She wasn't wrong, but I also had an appearance to keep up. "Where did this stuff come from? Who makes the trends? Why would anyone wear slouchy, baggy clothes?"

Amelia presented another shirt. A short-sleeved, front button, slim fit that had me taking a closer look. She read me like a book, easily seeing my interest, and was ready to answer my next questions.

"It's from the GAP so no one will think you're pretentious. But it'll fit your frame so no one will think you dress poorly."

I raised my brows. Hers shot up too while trying to hide a grin. I stuck out a foot, lifting from the bed to take the hanger.

"So, is it safe to pull this style shirt? They'll also go with the khakis and plaid shorts you're taking."

"Nothing blue," I reminded her. "It's not my color, and absolutely no cargo shorts or shorts that go past my knees. And no blue jean shorts."

She gave me a knowing look that I interpreted to mean this wasn't her first time dealing with me. Now it was me trying my best to hide a grin.

"Dasham." I glanced over my shoulder at the intercom system installed close to my bedroom door. The sound of my mother's voice was too faint. After all the years of living in this prodigious home, how had she not learned to work the communication system properly?

I went for the banister outside my bedroom door and yelled downstairs. "Wrong room, Mom. Push button number nine, not eight."

"You know your mother doesn't like for you to holler downstairs," Amelia hissed. She wasn't correcting me as much as trying to stave off my mother's frustration. "Tell her on the intercom."

My head shook at the absurdity of the situation as I came back inside the room. "She doesn't remember to lift her finger off the talk button. She can't hear me if I use the intercom."

"Dasham-darling, we've scheduled your birthday party for September third at the club. We'll be home from Sea Springs by then. I believe school starts the Monday after. They'll keep the swimming pool open for us. How does that sound?"

I stared at the box on the wall. My mouth opened, but no words came. I dropped my hands to my sides, my chin hitting my chest. Noo . She'd plan a huge affair, pretending it was perfectly normal to have a birthday party months after my actual birthday.

What did I say? I expected very little in terms of a celebration since my parents had only remembered my birthday a couple of days ago. And that only happened while sitting together at breakfast when I brought up the new car I wanted.

"Did you hear me?" my mom asked again. "I've scheduled a birthday party for you in the beginning of September. I have the club's party planner sending save the dates this week. She'll keep us updated on the plans while we're away. Would you like to look over the list of invitees?"

No, I did not want to see the list. Only members who paid an exclusive fee were allowed on the property. My friends without a membership wouldn't be able to attend.

I lifted my finger to the button and pressed. "No, I'm sure it's fine."

"Dasham, are you teasing me in some way that you think is funny and I don't understand?"

I cocked my head toward Amelia and whispered, "See? I guarantee her finger's pressing the talk button. She can't hear me."

There were five decent sized steps from where I stood to the banister. I made it in four. My frustration with everything—my birthday, our summer plans, my clothing options—got the best of me. "Mom! Take your finger off the talk button."

"All right, son," she said through the speaker.

I took a deep breath and centered myself as I went back to the intercom and lifted my finger to the button again. I felt like a loser for not standing up for myself, but the argument didn't matter. She wasn't a nurturing kind of mother. Especially since I was a late-late-in-life baby. "I'm sure whatever you decide is fine. We don't even need to have a party."

"Oh no, of course we do. Especially since your father's under such scrutiny. We need to have our best foot forward for the foreseeable future. Did you see the new swim trunks I had Amelia put on your bed?"

Honestly, I had no idea if I had seen them or not and twisted around toward my bed. Two large open suitcases took up the majority of the space on my mattress. Two cases seemed ambitious with as picky as I was about how I looked. Outside of those, assorted clothing littered the rest of the space.

Amelia quickly shifted through the mess to lift a pair of solid baby blue swim trunks. I scrunched my nose. They were certain to be expensive, but not my taste in swimwear.

"I do see them," I said.

"Good. I also had Amelia pack a white T-shirt. We're doing a family photo at the entrance of the pool. We're all wearing some variation of matching blue swimsuits and coordinating wraps."

Omigod. That sounded truly dreadful. My brows wrinkled in distaste as I glanced over at Amelia, who shrugged. "We're taking a family picture at the resort, in swimsuits? All of us?"

"I feel like you're attempting to tease me again, and I don't understand, and I don't have time to try to make sense of your humor. You're getting too old for this silliness. Our itinerary for tomorrow is to be ready to leave at nine a.m. sharp. The plane's scheduled to take off around ten. Don't dawdle, Dasham," she said firmly. "Have Amelia put your luggage by your door tonight. I'll have someone gather it to take to the plane in the morning."

My finger pressed the button. "Is there any way I can come home before my birthday? Celebrate here with a few of my friends. Chandler's coming home," I added as an incentive. My parents loved both Chandler and his parents. They thought he was a great role model, as if. "I can stay here with Amelia. It won't be the first time."

I released my hold to cross my fingers for good luck.

"You sure know how to push my buttons," my mother started. Her voice turned sterner with each syllable spoken. "This trip is to support your father. He's been too good to us all and this is big for him. The national press is covering the resort's opening. We need you on your best behavior, and absolutely no sneaking off to come home. Invite Chandler to join us for your birthday. But there will be no shenanigans between you two. Best behavior all the time."

My father, Jackson Richmond, was one of the most successful businessmen in Texas. He took pride in being a dedicated family man. All of my brothers and sisters worked for his company and all had a stake in the success of the brand new four hundred room resort and playground, Richmond Resorts, along the Gulf of Mexico coastline.

The hitch in the plan? The local Sea Springs business community wasn't pleased with big business coming in and stealing their customers.

They started a war against my father, trying every possible means to close the project down. Lawsuit after lawsuit had delayed the resort's opening by about a year. When their legal recourses failed to get their desired result, they waged a smear campaign against my family. A long picket line formed in front of the resort where they pushed the idea of small, hometown business values.

Here came the Richmond family. This was a working holiday. We had a reputation for being a pretty family. An all-American success story. If you can judge a book by its cover, we pulled off a wholesome family appearance better than most. The plan was to use our togetherness against our enemies. There were thirty plus of us descending on Sea Springs for the next three months.

"Did you hear me?" Her tone was sharp this time. "I wasn't pressing the talk button so don't even try."

His gaze skidded toward Amelia as he answered, "Yes, ma'am, I heard."

"Good. I'm going for drinks at the club. I'll expect you downstairs in the morning at eight forty-five."

I sighed and silently nodded, wondering how our conversation had gone from happy to angry in the few minutes we'd spoken. My finger pressed the button to respond quickly, trying to diffuse the trouble I caused. "I'll be downstairs on time."

"Hmm…" I said aloud, and stood there for a few seconds longer, waiting to see if she responded with anything more.

"Let it go, Dasham. You never win," Amelia whispered.

She wasn't wrong.