The Summer of Broken Rules, page 8
“Deal.”
They fist-bumped.
Wink extended the tape measure from the house’s threshold to the back of his granddaughter-in-law’s neck. “Well?” Kate’s voice was shrill.
“What’s the verdict, Wink?” Peter asked.
I held my breath as my grandfather squinted to make out the measurement. “I think I need my glasses,” he said after a second. “Honey, could you—”
Everyone groaned, knowing he was joking. Wink didn’t wear glasses.
“Ten and a quarter,” he announced. “Ten feet and a quarter!” The tape measure snapped shut. “It’s a legitimate kill!”
“Boom!” Wit shouted from above and then proceeded to shimmy down one of the porch columns all the way to the ground. He went up to Kate and smiled at her. “Good to meet you, Kate. I’m Wit.”
“I know,” she said through clenched teeth, digging around in her pocket and producing her target slip. She handed it over with a grumble. “Best of luck.”
“Thanks.” Wit slipped the piece of paper into his own pocket, then saluted us. “I’ll get out of your way now. Enjoy your dinner.”
I caught Honey looking at Wink, and he replied with a nod. “Wait a moment, Wit,” my grandmother said. “Why don’t you stay? We have plenty of food, and as long you don’t mind a tight fit at the table…”
“A tight fit meaning you’d be sitting on the stool,” Sarah translated and gestured to the table. Since there were so many of us, it was a mishmash of outdoor furniture, kitchen chairs, a bench from the mudroom decoupaged with family photos, and at one corner of the table, a tall wooden stool. The infamously uncomfortable stool.
Claire had always volunteered to sit there.
“Oh,” Wit said. “That’s really nice of you.” He ran a hand through his hair like he was worried about intruding. “But—”
Michael stepped in and shook his stepbrother’s shoulders, then covered Wit’s mouth with a hand. “He’d love to stay, Honey,” he said. “Thank you for inviting him.”
“Yes,” Wit echoed after his stepbrother removed his hand. He elbowed Michael in the ribs. Both of them grinned. “Thank you for inviting me.”
* * *
Sure enough, Wit got stuck with the stool. Wink and Honey settled at the head and foot of the table, while I took my usual seat: the antique Edgartown Yacht Club captain’s chair from Wink’s small study. It happened to be right next to Wit. Claire’s stool stood taller than my chair, tall enough for Wit to eat with his knees if such a thing were possible. “I take it this is the seat of honor?” he said after he noticed me staring at him.
“Yeah,” was all I said, my voice a whisper.
“Well, I’m very honored,” he said back, whispering, too.
I forced a smile before picking at my salad; I’d never been a salad fan. Claire hadn’t either. “Rabbit food,” we used to call it and would always order soup over salad in restaurants.
Across the table, Sarah noticed me pushing around the lettuce, and even though she’d prepared the salad, she laughed. “Not inspiring enough for you, Mer?” she asked, every other conversation falling silent. My cousin’s sparkling laugh was impossible to ignore. If she laughed, you wanted to know why.
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s good…really, uh, fresh.” I looked at Michael. “The cucumbers are a nice touch.”
Sarah leaned forward to grin at me. “Liar.” Then she straightened to address the entire table. “Claire did the funniest thing in New Orleans,” she said, smile now bittersweet. “We took her to one of our favorite restaurants for dinner with a bunch of people, and she was so overwhelmed by the menu that she let someone order for her…”
I put down my fork, appetite gone. It’s this place called Basin, my sister had said during our last text conversation. Sarah says it’s in the Garden District, but afterward she and her friends are giving me the grand tour of the French Quarter! Bourbon Street! How jealous are you?
The French Quarter was the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans, and Bourbon Street was famous for its nightlife. Jazz clubs, bright lights, and bars with crazy cocktails. Our cousin was helping Claire celebrate New Year’s and her early acceptance to Tulane while I was stuck at home. Ridiculously jealous, I’d texted back. Why aren’t I there?!
“Danielle had no clue about the salad thing,” Sarah told us, now in full storytelling mode, “and of course Claire was too polite to tell her.”
Most of the table laughed. “Our sweet Claire,” Honey said as I stole a glance at my parents. They were listening with pleasant expressions, but I noticed my dad had put a hand on my mom’s shoulder. She kissed his fingers.
Sarah kept speaking. “So after inhaling her appetizer, the crawdad mac ’n‘ cheese—amazing—the oyster Caesar salad arrives, and I swear she didn’t take a single bite. She pretended. I forget who she was sitting next to…” She thought for a second, then shook her head. “But Michael and I watched her move her knife and fork around her plate, all the while keeping up a conversation with whomever. She was talking so much that they didn’t notice she hadn’t chewed or swallowed anything.” She giggled. “When the server came and collected our plates, it really looked like she’d eaten most of it!”
Again, laughter circled the table. My heart was aching. Do they not know? I wondered as I felt Wit shift next to me, probably uncomfortable on the stool. Are they pretending? Or do they truly not realize the timing?
“Rabbit food,” Sarah added, nudging my foot with hers under the table. “That’s what she told me right after we left. She said you two secretly call salad rabbit food.”
“Well, it’s not much of a secret anymore,” I tried to joke, but it came off as cold and deadpan…because I knew what had happened next.
Everything turned to white noise as I remembered my phone buzzing at 3:00 a.m. that night eighteen months ago. Somehow, I’d answered without opening my eyes. “Hello?” I said groggily, only to hear Michael at the other end of the line.
“Meredith, Meredith,” he said quickly. “Your parents. I’ve been calling your parents. Where are your parents?”
I yawned. “Knocked out asleep. We had a party, and my dad made his famous margaritas—”
Michael cut me off. “Please wake them up.”
“What?”
“Wake them up!” His voice was frantic; he didn’t sound like Sarah’s composed fiancé at all. “Sarah,” he said. “My Sarah, and Claire.” He wavered like he was crying. “Claire…”
At the mention of my sister’s name, I snapped to attention, throwing back my covers and racing down our dark hallway to my parents’ room. “Mom!” I flicked on the lights. “Dad!”
My mom screamed after I handed her the phone, and even though I couldn’t hear what Michael was saying, I knew.
Claire is dead, I thought, falling to my knees with tears already rushing down my face. My sister is dead.
It had been a drunk driving accident. One cocktail had been enough for Claire during her Bourbon Street bar crawl, but apparently Sarah was three sheets to the wind, so she had handed my sister her keys. “You be my chauffeur!” Sarah had said. “I’ll even sit in the back!”
Together, they’d made it back to my cousin’s car, which was parallel parked right outside the French Quarter. Claire was a capable and careful driver, always double-checking everything before going anywhere, even if it was just pulling out of our driveway.
But that night, she didn’t get the chance to adjust the mirrors and assess her surroundings. Claire had buckled her seat belt, turned to check that Sarah had buckled hers, and then had barely put the key into the ignition before a massive SUV came hurtling out of nowhere and smashed into them. The driver’s BAC was three times the legal limit.
Sarah suffered several broken bones, a serious concussion, and was left with scars.
But my sister was killed instantly.
Instantly.
The next day, my parents were on the first flight to New Orleans, but I stayed home, absolutely petrified. Ben came over, and I hugged him and cried until Wink and Honey arrived. “Sweetie,” my grandmother said, and while I expected her to say more, she didn’t. She bit her lip and blinked back her own tears. Because really, what was there to say?
Claire was gone.
Now I felt my eyes stinging and Wit’s hand on my back, a few fingertips subtly and smoothly brushing through my hair. He intuitively knew I needed steadying. I wanted to reach for some part of him, too, even if it was only his T-shirt hem. But before I could, I heard my name. “Meredith!”
Luli was climbing the porch steps and waving her phone. “Why haven’t you been responding in the chat?”
“Because we don’t allow phones at dinner,” Wink answered for me. He motioned to the table, its centerpiece a tower of iPhones. “Family time.”
“Oh, understood.” Luli nodded, then refocused on me. “Your target—”
“Don’t worry, Luli.” It was Aunt Julia who spoke this time. “We all know who Meredith’s target is.” We made eye contact, a twinkle in hers. “No need for secrecy.”
Luli’s cheeks pinkened, realizing my aunt knew about our “shuffling the deck” strategy. “Anyway”—Luli cleared her throat—“apparently your target is in Edgartown, and Pravika thinks you can get them. Like, tonight.”
“Wait, what?” I asked and looked at Wink before getting up from the table.
He nodded. Permission granted.
“Daniel Robinson is in Edgartown with his girlfriend,” Luli repeated once we were alone in the kitchen. “Jake scooped their ice cream at Mad Martha’s, and Pravika is predicting they’ll visit her at Murdick’s next.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let me think a second.”
Daniel Robinson—this morning, Jake and I had joked that he was a John Doe, but after my dad had eliminated Pravika, she had appointed herself lead researcher for our alliance. I’d received a text earlier saying that Daniel was staying in Moor House, and an Instagram picture had also been included of him with Michael’s younger sister, Nicole. Of course I already knew those details. Wit had also told me that Daniel was studying to be a marine biologist, so I was planning to off him by the Oyster Pond under the guise of showing him the horseshoe crabs. Understated but artful.
But now…I could get him now?
Claire would get him now.
“All right,” I said to Luli. “Tell Eli to get the Jeep, and meet me outside the Annex.”
Because Claire would also say this mission called for the Super Soaker.
I took a deep breath and returned to the porch after Luli confirmed the plan with Eli. “Can you guys save me some pie?” I asked. “I’ve gotta take care of business.”
“Sure, sweetie,” Honey said at the same time Uncle Brad and Dad went, “No promises!”
I rolled my eyes and turned to Wit, still on the stool. Are you coming? I almost said, but then I remembered that we weren’t collaborating. Today had been a one-time thing. We weren’t known accomplices.
“I’ll save you a slice of strawberry rhubarb,” he told me when I’d looked at him too long, and I grinned in response, knowing that meant Good luck.
* * *
“Meredith!” Eli shouted. “Everything all right?”
We were speeding down Paqua’s driveway in Wink’s battered old Jeep, the car we had all learned to drive when we were still years away from getting our actual licenses. It had no roof and no doors, so the wind raged all around us. I was doubled over in the front seat with my eyes squeezed shut, hugging the neon-colored Super Soaker to my chest. Slow down, I thought, stomach in knots. Please slow down…
“Faster, Eli!” I heard Luli call from the back seat. “Pravika’s saying they walked into Murdick’s!”
The Jeep didn’t slow down until we rolled into Edgartown proper, with its white clapboard and cedar-shingled houses, the Old Whaling Church, the brick sidewalks, and the yacht club down by the water. Tonight, town was teeming with people wandering in and out of stores and licking ice cream cones. We could hear laughter from Alchemy Restaurant’s balcony. I used to think of it as our balcony, since the Foxes always celebrated big birthdays there. The last one had been Claire’s eighteenth. I’d made her wear this obnoxious light-up tiara. She was gorgeous.
“Okay, unbuckle,” Luli said once Eli turned onto North Water and we passed Mad Martha’s Ice Cream. Murdick’s Fudge was two doors up the street. “Unbuckle your seat—”
“Oh my god!” Eli interrupted, head spinning over his shoulder. “There he is!”
“Who?!” Luli and I said. “Daniel?!”
“No, the man of my dreams!” He craned his neck further, and the Jeep suddenly swerved. My heart did, too. “He’s back there, in the seersucker tie and blue blazer!”
“Eli, the road!” I punched his arm. “The road! Focus on the road!”
“Meredith!” Luli leaned forward and pointed to the Murdick’s storefront, where Nicole Dupré and the aforementioned Daniel Robinson had pushed through the doors, hefty white fudge bag in hand (I admit my mouth watered as I wondered what flavors they’d chosen). The couple looked like they were going to continue up the sidewalk, but then, lucky for us, they decided to jaywalk to the jewelry store across the street.
The rest happened in about three seconds:
Eli slowed the car to a crawl.
I unbuckled my seat belt and, before thinking twice, shot up into a standing position.
“Hey!” Luli shouted as I situated my water gun over the Jeep’s windshield. “Daniel!”
Daniel glanced over at us, at the Super Soaker now aimed straight at him. His eyes widened. “Run, Dan!” Nicole pretty much shoved him. “Run!”
But it was too late.
“Watch this, Claire,” I whispered and pulled the trigger.
* * *
Somehow there was plenty of pie left by the time we made it back to the Farm. I’d insisted on driving home, so I pulled the Jeep straight up to the Big House, right in front of the porch. “How’d it go?” my mom asked while I looked for Wit. His stool was empty.
“Bloody brilliant,” Luli said in her best British accent. “It was like something out of a James Bond movie.”
We ended up reenacting the takedown for everyone, casting Sarah and Michael in the roles of Nicole and Daniel. “She won’t stop texting me,” Michael said afterward when checking his phone. He turned to Wink. “She’s saying it’s not a valid kill because it happened in town, not here.”
Wink chuckled. It was his second decree of the day. “Remind her of the three rules, Michael.” He served himself more peach pie. “One, game play is twenty-four hours a day.” He plopped a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. “Two, all eliminations must occur outdoors.” He took a big forkful. “And three—”
“Nothing is to interfere with wedding events,” Aunt Christine finished for him. She sipped her wine. “Meredith’s takedown in no way conflicts with those parameters. There’s technically nothing that restricts Assassin activity beyond Paqua property lines.”
Honey patted my aunt’s hand. “You’re going to make a wonderful commissioner one day.”
Aunt Christine smiled.
Michael bit his lip as he tapped a text back to his sister and let out a deep sigh when she responded. “She still doesn’t think it’s fair,” he reported, “but Daniel says he’ll drop his target off in the Annex’s mailbox later tonight.” He coughed. “Lots of angry emojis, too.”
We laughed. “Everyone better watch out,” Aunt Julia said. “Day one isn’t even over and Mer has two kills under her belt. She’s a threat.”
“Wait, two?” Luli’s eyebrows knitted together. “I thought Daniel was your first target? You didn’t mention anyone else at tubing.”
There was a beat of silence, my cheeks warming with shame. Why hadn’t I told my friends? They were my alliance! “Well, um, I also eliminated Aunt Rachel,” I said. “Early this morning.”
“While I was meditating,” Aunt Rachel added, definitely to defuse the tension. “I didn’t even see her coming and asked her to keep it quiet for a while.” She kissed Aunt Julia’s cheek. “I didn’t want to disappoint Julia so soon.”
“Oh,” Luli said. “So you weren’t really on a run with Michael and Wit.”
I shook my head.
“But speaking of Wit,” Uncle Brad said, “he’s another one to keep an eye on—he did double duty today, too.” He gave us a look. “And that move earlier…”
“What move earlier?” Luli asked.
Kate, as the victim, took it upon herself to explain, and when we were walking home long past sunset, my dad brought it up again. “It was so clever,” he said, “and the execution was excellent. I wonder if he’s working with anyone…” He trailed off, and I felt him give me some serious side-eye. “I mean, how did he know? How did he know that we were having dinner tonight?”
My mom laughed. “Tom, everyone knew we were having dinner tonight!”
“Okay,” he conceded, “but what about everything else? How’d he know that Kate would be outside and that Uncle Richard’s bedroom window was the perfect point of entry?” He sucked in a breath through his teeth as we reached the Annex. “Brad’s right, the kid’s dangerous.”
“He doesn’t like being called kid,” I murmured.
“What was that, Mer?”
“Nothing,” I said, then paused. My dad was holding open the screen door for me, but I didn’t want to go inside yet. Especially when I thought about sleeping in the bunk room alone…
It was silent and suffocating.
“Meredith?”
I blinked. “I’m going to go out for a while,” I said, even though it was nearly midnight. “To, you know, hang out.”
My dad waved his hand across the horizon, his way of saying, Do what you will! I was eighteen; there weren’t any Farm rules for me anymore.
