“I should warn you,” Nick says to Hannah once all the cards have been dealt. “Summer could play on the B.S. pro circuit.”
“There’s a pro circuit, Uncle Nick?” Henry exclaims.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Nick tells him. “Maybe the two of us could join it one day. Head out to Vegas for the winter.”
“Nick, stop,” Gabe says, smiling. “He’s going to think you’re serious.”
I take a minute to order the cards I’m holding. It’s a good hand, not a great one, but that’s okay. As Nick says, I’m a wiz at this game. That’s because, thanks to years of drama training, I excel at bluffing as well as spotting other people’s tells.
With six players, the game takes a while, and I keep a fairly low profile throughout, mostly observing. At one point I notice that Gabe seems close to winning, but Henry correctly calls “B.S.” and Gabe is forced to swoop up a fistful of cards.
“Oh, Henry, you’re ruthless,” Hannah says with a laugh, though she’s already nailed Blake, Nick, and Gabe for bluffing.
“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Henry replies.
I can’t tell if Hannah’s actually having fun or just pretending to. She’s across the table from me and seems to be mostly focused on the massage Nick is giving the back of her neck. At one point I catch her awarding him an intense I-can’t-wait-to-get-you-between-the-sheets-later stare that makes me want to gag.
But after a while, I realize the flirty stuff is a diversion. She’s holding her hand discreetly, but I can tell she’s down to a tiny number of cards, possibly only one, and her turn is coming up. The discard pile, at this point, happens to be enormous.
When the play reaches Hannah, she sits up a bit straighter with her hands in her lap. She pulls up a card from the hand she’s holding, lowers her eyes, and tosses it quickly onto the pile. Too quickly.
“One jack,” she says carefully. Too carefully. As she glances up again, her gaze meets mine and I detect a smidgen of nerves.
“B.S.,” I declare, surprising myself with how loud it comes out.
Hannah purses her full lips and gives a little shrug. She reaches out with a perfectly manicured hand and slowly flips over the card.
It’s a fucking jack.
“Oh, no, Summer,” Henry exclaims, as I gather up the cards. “You’re gonna need both hands to hold all those.”
“But now I won’t have to bother with any bicep curls today,” I say, plastering a grin on my face.
It turns out Hannah still has a card or possibly two in her hand and the game continues. When it’s her turn again, she lays down what I now realize is her final card and announces, “One two.”
“B.S.,” Blake says quickly.
After she proves him wrong, she raises two empty hands and says, “All done.”
“Oh my god. Bravo!” Nick exclaims.
I smile and congratulate her on her win, but inside I’m stewing. She was playing me the entire time, trying to prove which of us is the best actress.
Mercifully, Bonnie and her pink-haired helper emerge from the house at that exact moment, carrying trays of sandwiches and wraps and setting them on the sideboard. They return a minute later with bowls of pickles, olives, and homemade coleslaw. Claire appears, too, and announces that lunch is totally casual today and we should sit anywhere we want.
Claire, Blake, Wendy, Nick, and Hannah end up in a circle of white Adirondack chairs on the lawn, with both dogs at their feet. After grabbing a chicken wrap, I head as far away as I can get, to the umbrella table on the pool deck where Ash is sitting with Gabe and Henry.
“Summer,” Ash says, “I’ve posted the badminton teams and times on the wall in the kitchen. I’ve partnered you with Nick.”
“Excellent,” I say. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Gabe suggests Henry tell his grandfather about the Hawking book he’s currently reading, and as my stepson launches into a mini-dissertation, I see that Marcus and Keira have finally shown up and settled into lounge chairs by the pool. Things seem fine between them, but I can’t forget the way Marcus stared at Hannah last night, as if he hadn’t really let go of her.
Eventually Bonnie appears on the pool deck and passes around a platter of chocolate chip cookies the size of hubcaps, but I excuse myself to go change into my swimsuit. Ash follows me up to the patio, confessing that he’s in search of another sandwich.
And suddenly there’s Hannah again, filling a glass with sparkling water at the sideboard, with Ginger and Bella glued to her side, tails wagging. Aren’t dogs supposed to emit a low growl in the presence of a sociopath, rather than trying to mount a leg, the way Bella appears eager to do? But these dogs seem totally won over by Hannah, like everyone else. And yet I know something’s off with her. And she knows I know. That’s why she worked so hard to show me up in the card game.
“Hannah,” Ash says, still studying the offerings on the sideboard, “I just mentioned to Summer that the badminton teams and times are posted in the kitchen, so take a look. I hope you’re not going to mind having me as a partner.”
“Not at all,” she says with a smile. “In fact, I’m honored.”
“I need to warn you, though. We have several family members, Nick being one of them, who play the game as a killer sport. Isn’t that right, Summer?”
“True,” I say, “but what fun would it be without a few broken bones?”
Hannah laughs, but she doesn’t take her attention off Ash. “Forewarned is forearmed.”
“Have you two ladies had a chance to chat yet?” Ash asks, a fresh sandwich in his hand.
“A bit, yes,” Hannah replies.
“I’m sure you must know some of the same people,” he says. “Though Hannah, you’re mostly doing film at the moment, right? Summer’s been focusing on theater lately, getting her play ready for a festival.”
“Oh, Hannah does theater, too,” I say, glancing in her direction and forcing her to meet my gaze. There’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes, as if I’ve caught her off guard, and this time I don’t think she’s acting.
“Oh really, in New York?” Ash inquires.
“Now and then,” she says. “Schedule permitting.”
I let my eyes slide briefly toward the pool deck, making sure Gabe is still down there and out of earshot.
“We were actually even once in the same showcase,” I tell Ash before looking back at Hannah. “By the way, I double-checked, and you were definitely involved. The Lilac Theater on West Thirteenth Street. Are you sure you don’t remember? It was two years ago this October.”
She hesitates, and I can almost hear the wheels of her brain spinning.
“The Lilac Theater, of course,” she says after a couple of beats. “I was in a showcase there.”
“Maybe I confused you somehow when we spoke about it last night,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.
“Just a little,” Hannah says. “But no harm done. You thought I was in a play about a woman who had amnesia. But it was actually about a scientist who turns a cat into a woman and then falls hopelessly in love with her.”
That’s exactly what I told her last night, and she knows it. Her lips curve up in the tiniest of smiles, and I realize she’s not just lying now. She’s trying to gaslight me.