Thirty-Five

Whitney

The chopper touches down on the landing pad, and its lights shine out on the ocean waves crashing in the darkness beyond the sea wall. This is as far as I got last time, before Lincoln and I were called back to Gable. I’m almost afraid to set foot on the ground because of what could possibly happen this time, but for Cricket’s sake, I say nothing as we climb out. Thankfully, the torrential rain stopped halfway into our flight, and now a woman stands on the edge of the helipad and waves us over.

“Hi!” she says over the beating rotors. “I’m Janelle. My husband and I are the caretakers here. Welcome to Blue House.”

“Thank you so much,” I yell.

“We’ll get your bags. Please feel free to head inside. We have light refreshments waiting for you. I’ll show you around as soon as you’ve had a chance to relax.”

Cricket follows beside me, a stunned expression on her face as we walk toward the gorgeous house. It’s blue, as its name would suggest, but a dark grayish tone that no doubt matches the color of the ocean on stormy days.

“Wow. This is . . . incredible,” she says as Janelle shows us to a living area with a massive picture window that must have the most incredible view of the sea during the day. A white sectional sofa forms a U shape around a table with chilled white wine, fruit, and a charcuterie board.

“Let me know if there’s anything else at all I can get you. I’m a chef, so there’s pretty much nothing I can’t make, even when we’re low on provisions.”

“Cricket? Is there anything specific you want?”

My cousin shakes her head, continuing to stare out the window. “This is great. Thank you so much.”

“You can find me in the kitchen.” Janelle points toward a doorway across the room. “Which is through there, whenever you’re ready for your tour. I’ll have your bags stowed in your rooms right now.”

“Thank you,” I tell her again, and she disappears through the doorway she indicated moments ago.

When we’re alone, I touch Cricket’s arm. “Do you want food?”

I gesture to the table, falling into the hostess role easily, which should be strange, but it’s not. Even though I’ve never been in this house, I feel totally at ease.

Lincoln was right. This place is special.

Cricket shakes her head. “I’m not hungry. But the wine, on the other hand . . .”

Do I think my cousin getting trashed right now is the best idea ever? No, not really, but then again, she did just find out her fiancé has two kids with her sister, who tricked him into sleeping with her.

“All the wine for both of us,” I say.

We make ourselves comfortable on the couch and reach for the glasses of white. The crisp, tart flavor is refreshing after the flight, and Cricket drains hers quickly and reaches for the bottle for a refill.