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1
HARLEY
“Couldn’t we have just stuck with watermelon slices?” I groan, scooping the melon baller into the honeydew for the umpteenth time. My forearm is starting to burn. “I mean, who eats honeydew anyway?”
“You’ll thank me when you see how nice it looks,” Gillian says with a serene smile from across the kitchen island. She’s currently arranging a charcuterie board around a bowl of hummus in which the droopy, bell sleeve of her boho maxi dress is dangerously close to getting dipped.
I roll my eyes. “Next year, we should get this party catered.”
Dana’s ears perk up. “Why, when we have ten perfectly good hands between us?”
“Eleven!” Stella adds, holding up her two hands and grinning. Gillian’s daughter is five years old and the brightest light in all our lives. Right now, she’s sitting on the counter, making sure her aunt Kira is properly placing the strawberries on the flag cake. Kira doesn’t say much, but her attention to detail is impeccable.
Amy laughs, “Twelve, honey. Unless you only have one hand.”
My adorable niece flips her palms around and looks at them before confidently announcing, “Twelve!”
“We’re working on the counting thing,” Gillian says with a sigh.
“See?” Dana says to me with a jerk of her thumb toward Stella. “Twelve.”
I snort in laughter. “Fine. Whatever.”
“You’re not getting out of this, Harley. Ever,” Dana says, patting my back.
My four sisters and I are currently preparing the festivities for the annual Solace family Fourth of July party. Our parents hosted this party even before any of us were born. I guess it’s only right we take up the family tradition. When times seem to be changing so fast, it’s nice that some things stay the same.
And with my sisters and me at the helm, these shindigs go off without a hitch. We’re the best quintet you could dream up.
“Hey, girls–” Dad sticks his head into the kitchen. “Could I get one of you to be my grill assistant?”
I scan my sisters, all of whom are silent. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it. And it won’t be me. I touch my nose as fast as possible. “Nose goes!”
As quick as lightning, Dana and Amy’s hands shoot up to their noses, followed by Kira’s more methodical motion, leaving Gillian as the loser. She looks around, despondent. “No, I can’t!”
“Relax, Gilly. You don’t have to touch the meat,” Dad tries to talk her down.
“It’s the principle of it, Daddy! I can’t have any part in it,” she says, holding up her hands as if that somehow cancels out her obligation.
“But you lost ‘nose goes’,” I say with a smirk.
Gillian shoots me a look, lasers in her eyes. “Youshould go since you’re so tired of working on the melon.”
“Oh no, I’ve just gotten into a groove,” I say, returning the melon baller to the melon.
She huffs, “You’re so immature, Harley.”
“I’ll help you, Grandpa!” Stella pipes up and starts to wriggle off the counter.
“You know, sweetheart, while I’d love your help, this is kind of a grown-up job. Although from the looks of it, I don’t see any here,” he says with a cheeky smile.
Gillian crosses her arms. “I’m not doing it.”
“I’ll do it,” Kira finally announces. “Amy, finish the cake. Stella knows what to do.”
“Thank you, Kira,” Dad says with a sigh. He gives the rest of us an admonishing look. “When did it become such a burden to help out your old dad, huh?”
“Dad, you know it’s not that. We just…aren’t the grilling types,” Amy says, trying to lessen the blow with a sweet smile.
