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“Nope.”
“That’s kind of cruel, isn’t it?”
Wayne laughed. “Aren’t you up for a surprise?”
That’s why I came here in the first place.
I wanted the surprise of my life.
I wanted things to happen again.
Elise lifted her glass to her lips, grumbled sarcastically, and said, “Jeez. What now?”
Again, Elise found her fingers laced through Wayne’s as they walked down Main Street, toward the Grand Hotel, then up that now-familiar hill, which led to the Pontiac Trail Head. Unlike the last few times, they bypassed Dean Swartz’s family house, and instead entered through the little gate outside of a lavender-colored house, one a tiny bit smaller than Dean’s.
Just before Wayne could rap his knuckles against the door, Michael, the young man from the sailboat, opened the door and delivered a boisterous smile.
“You made it!” he said. He rushed forward, gave Wayne a big hug, and then turned toward Elise. “And you must be Elise. I’ve heard so much about you today.”
Elise’s eyes flickered toward Wayne’s. “I can’t imagine what you heard...” she began, before being swallowed by Michael’s infectious hug.
“Come in. Tracey and Mom have set up the dining room table,” Michael said. “Like I told you earlier, Wayne, Mom is obsessive about feeding me.”
“He’s going to eat me out of house and home!” Cindy called from a far room.
Elise kept her hand in Wayne’s. She felt like a foreigner on spindly legs, hardly able to walk or speak in this, her oldest (supposed) sister’s home. Michael led them toward the kitchen, where he poured them both hearty glasses of wine and clinked glasses with them.
“Elise, I heard you’ve been involved in a bit of drama since your arrival,” Michael said, crossing and uncrossing his arms.
“As if you’re one to talk, Prodigal Son,” Cindy said as she whisked back into the kitchen and dotted a kiss on Michael’s cheek.
“I hope I kick that nickname soon,” Michael said. “But anyway. A fire? At the old Willow Grove?”
“I think that place was always a fire trap,” Tracey said from the dining room. “Alex probably it was unsafe, in any case, and he didn’t manage to do anything about it.”
“You should have seen him at the police station just now,” Wayne affirmed. “He looked like his world was ending.”
“Oh, Uncle Alex,” Michael said, scoffing. “The man never liked me so much. He knew I didn’t have much interest in the business side of things. One day, when I told him I wanted to be an artist when I grew up, he actually managed to move sides of the table to be closer to a cousin of mine, who owned a business down in Tampa.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Alex loves you,” Cindy said.
“He’s always had a funny way of showing it,” Wayne affirmed.
Cindy rolled her eyes. “Wayne! You’re of little to no help.”
“Then why’d you invite me?” Wayne asked mischievously. He grabbed a grape from the fruit basket on the counter and plopped a green one on his tongue.
“Is the wine not grape enough for you?” Michael asked him. “You feel like you have to go straight to the source?”
Elise watched, worried, as Tracey hustled back into the kitchen to check on whatever cooked in the oven.
“Can I help with something?” Elise asked.
Tracey waved an oven mitt through the steam as it oozed from the oven itself. She turned a bright smile toward Elise. “I don’t think so, honey. I just hope you brought your appetite. This lasagna isn’t going to eat itself.”
As Tracey drew out the lasagna, Michael hustled over, made a funny little noise in his throat, then said, “It looks every bit as good as it does in Little Italy, Aunt Tracey.”
Tracey’s jaw dropped as she swatted him with the oven mitt. “You’re just going to drop all these hints about where you’ve been, aren’t you? You’re never going to tell us. You’re just going to allude to this wonderful, magical life.”
