Hazel’s gaze bounces between the three of us with avid interest. “Wow. Is this your first time on Gull Cove Island?” Aubrey and I nod, and she squeezes her grandfather’s arm. “Granddad, how could you not tell me the Story grandkids were spending the summer here? You must’ve known, right?”
“No,” the old man says, plucking at the pocket of his cardigan again.
“Maybe you forgot.” She turns to us and adds in a lower voice, “Granddad has early-stage dementia. Sometimes he’s fine, but other times he gets really confused. He’s friends with Mrs. Story, though, and he was her family doctor, so he knew your parents really well. I’m Hazel Baxter-Clement, by the way. My grandfather is Dr. Fred Baxter.”
I recognize the name instantly. “Of course! My mother used to say he must’ve been the only doctor alive who still made house calls.”
Hazel grins. “Well, for your family.”
“My dad said the same thing,” Aubrey says. “And also that your grandfather got him playing lacrosse again in high school after he’d injured his knee.”
We all look at Jonah to see whether he’ll weigh in with a memory, but he just stares at his phone, rude as ever. Then he thrusts the screen toward Aubrey and me. “Yelp says we should go to Hurley Street to find a cab.”
“Hurley is right around the corner,” Hazel says, pointing to our left. I grasp the handle of my carry-on as she adds, “Hey, so this might be kind of weird and random when we just met, but—I actually did a school project that included your family last semester. I’m a history major at BU, and my independent study is about early colonists whose descendants are thriving in the information age. My professor really liked the initial write-up and wants me to expand on it next fall. Is there any chance I could interview you guys?” She smiles ingratiatingly when none of us respond right away. “Total softball questions, I promise.”
“Um.” I put my sunglasses back on to avoid Hazel’s gaze. Even softball questions are loaded when you’re a Story. “We might be kind of busy for a while.”
“I understand. Could I give you my number in case you find the time? Or if you just want to know what’s fun to do on the island. I’d be happy to show you around.” She looks at Jonah, who still has his phone out, and quickly recites her number. I can’t tell whether he actually adds it, or just pretends to.
“Enjoy your first day,” Hazel says. “Come on, Granddad, let’s get some ice cream.”
Dr. Baxter has been quietly leaning on his granddaughter’s arm while we talk, but Hazel’s voice seems to shake him out of his reverie. He focuses on me again, a frown tugging down the corners of his mouth. “You shouldn’t have come, Allison.”
Hazel clucks her tongue. “Granddad, that’s not Allison. You’re confused.” She offers us a smile and wave before steering him toward the café behind us. “See you around.”
Aubrey stares after them as they disappear into the café. “Well, that was strange,” she says. Then she hitches her backpack over her shoulder, grabs the handle of her suitcase, and starts toward Hurley Street. I pause, eyeing my suitcases, until Jonah heaves a deep sigh and grabs hold of the two big ones.
“Can you handle the rest, princess?” he asks over his shoulder as he drags them across the cobblestones.
“Yes,” I mutter ungraciously. I would’ve thanked him without the princess comment.
* * *
—
“Whoa,” Jonah says when our taxi driver pulls to a stop.
Gull Cove Resort is on the opposite side of the island from the ferry dock, or we never could’ve missed it. The architecture is Victorian mansion meets modern luxury beach spa, which works a lot better than you’d think. It’s also the biggest building I’ve seen here so far, four stories high and I don’t know how many rooms across. The paint is pristine white, the flowering shrubs are perfectly shaped and bursting with color, and the grass is impossibly green. Even the driveway feels smooth and newly paved.
“Enjoy your stay,” the driver says, getting out of the cab so he can help pull our suitcases from the trunk. “Gonna be a long one, huh?”
I hand him a ten-dollar bill for our seven-dollar ride. “You could say that.”
Aubrey is consulting her phone. “We’re supposed to pick up registration packets in Edward Franklin’s office,” she reports. “First floor, near the lobby.”
“Let’s leave this crap here,” Jonah says, dragging all the suitcases and duffels off to one side. He rolls his eyes at my dubious expression. “Oh, come on. Rooms here start at eight hundred dollars a night. Nobody’s taking your stuff.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, grabbing my laptop bag and brushing past him toward the front door. Every time Jonah opens his mouth, I wonder if this entire summer was a mistake.
A smiling concierge in the spacious, airy lobby directs us to Edward Franklin’s office. We pass the elevators and turn down a narrow hallway with plush carpeting. I’m so busy looking at the framed photographs hanging on the walls—eager for a glimpse of my grandmother, or maybe even my mother, among the smiling guests—that I nearly bump into Aubrey when she stops short. “Hello?” she calls, rapping on a door. “Is this where we get orientation stuff?”
“It is,” calls a cheerful voice. “Come in, come in.”
We step into a small office dominated by a large walnut desk. A smiling man sits behind it, surrounded by haphazardly stacked folders. He has Draco Malfoy white-blond hair swept to one side, and he’s wearing a crisp white shirt and a tie patterned with bright-blue fish. “Hello, and please excuse the mess,” he says. “We’re a little disorganized at the moment.”
“You must be Edward,” I say.
It’s a logical assumption, given that he’s sitting in Edward’s office. But Friendly Draco shakes his head. “I am not. I’m Carson Fine, head of hospitality for Gull Cove Resort. Doing double duty until we find Edward’s replacement.”
“His what?” I frown. “He’s not here?”
“He left two days ago,” Carson says. “Bit of an abrupt departure, but don’t worry. The summer hire program continues without him. I just need your names, please.”
“Milly Story-Takahashi, Aubrey Story, and Jonah Story,” I say.
Carson’s hands pause over his keyboard. “Really? Did you guys know you have the same last name as the resort’s owner? What a coincidence. I don’t think we’ve ever had another Story here before, and now we’ve got three of you.” His blue eyes crinkle. “Too bad you’re not related, huh?”