Brothers of Paradise Series

“He’s my uncle.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” I’ve never met someone before who lives with their uncle. I need to tread carefully.

“Are you thirsty? Can I get you a glass of water?”

“Nah.”

Mom would know exactly what to say-she’s a great hostess. If only she was home! I try to make my voice soft, like hers. “You’ll like it here. This is a nice town, actually. And there’s a great little cove by the beach. I can show you one day.”

He just nods. God, but he’s silent! No one in my class at school is this quiet. Maybe something is wrong with him. He shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, and I notice his hands.

“Why do you have so many Band-Aids?”

Hayden’s eyes grow guarded. “I cut myself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

I take my empty bowl to the sink and try to think. He’s silent. He’s a boy. And he looks pretty… well, disheveled. I know that my mom wouldn’t let my brothers wear a shirt that’s the wrong size, like his, which hangs awkwardly from his shoulders.

I feel a sudden and very heavy responsibility to be the perfect host. Dad is handling the business side-I’ll handle the boy.

“Have you ever played Nintendo?”

His head snaps up. “Once or twice.”

“Do you wanna play?”

“Yeah.”

“All right,” I say, heading for the staircase. “Let’s go.”

An hour later, when Hayden’s uncle comes to fetch him, they find us sound asleep on the couch in the basement, the TV still on.

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The present

“Lily! Get in here!”

I roll my eyes at Turner’s voice. “I’ll take my sweet time, thank you very much.”

“No, you won’t. Have you forgotten that I’m your boss?”

“Actually, your father is. Technically speaking he’s both of our bosses.”

Startled laughter sounds from his glass office. “That was a low blow. I’m eating your lunch too as retaliation.”

“No, no, I’m coming!” I close my laptop and hurry across the ten feet that separates our offices. Turner is sitting at his conference table, two poke bowls on the table. A sparkling water for me and a diet soda for him.

“You work too hard,” he chides. “Decompress.”

“Well, we have to work hard. The Anderson deadline is in five days.”

“It’s almost ready, Lily. You’ve done an outstanding job with the decor, not to mention the landscaping. It passed the house inspection with flying colors.”

I nod at his words, poking at my raw salmon. He’s right. But even so, the Anderson development is the first house I’ve been running lead on since I was hired at Turner’s family company. Property development was never my dream, but I took enough architecture classes in college to understand the basics-not to mention the decor part.

It’s exhilarating, the mix of responsibility and teamwork that goes into building. It had made Dad happy too. Yet another one of the Marchand kids choosing his profession.

“Thanks.” I shoot him a smile. “It’s a thrill, isn’t it? Building?”

Turner nods. “The biggest. You can spend years on a project, slogging over every detail, but then at the end, when you walk through the finished house…”

“Finally seeing your masterpiece complete,” I say, thinking of Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel that took him four years to paint. Studying art history in college hadn’t exactly paid off, according to my dad, but it had been some of the best years of my life.

“I’ll let my father know you called his developments around the marina masterpieces,” Turner says. “You’ll become more popular with the old man than you already are.”

I chuckle. “Flatterer. I already know I got this job because of you.”

“Okay, so maybe I put in a good word or two. But trust me, the board was in complete agreement.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course.” He nods at the ginger in my bowl. “Still avoiding that?”

“Yep. Here.” I push my lunch toward him, and Turner carefully picks out the pieces with his chopsticks. If someone would have told teenage me that I’d one day be working closely with Turner Harris, the school’s ultimate jock and my brother’s dickish friend, I’d have laughed in their face. But things changed, I suppose. Once, I dreamed my future would be spent as Mrs. Hayden Cole and running my own art gallery.

“So,” Turner says, focusing on opening his packet of soy sauce. “I’m taking Catalina out tomorrow night. She needs to stretch her sails a bit.”

“The wind should be good. You and Parker?”

“I haven’t asked him yet, actually. I was thinking if you wanted to join…”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He grins. “You haven’t sailed in a bit, but I’m sure you remember how to. You guys went sailing all the time growing up.”

We did, but I’m still not sure if I know the knots. My leg, too… I healed great after the accident all those years ago, and there’s no real pain left, but my leg still won’t always co-operate. There’s just a faint limp that lingers and sometimes it locks up. If the backstay fails, or if we get caught in downward wind, there’s a chance I won’t be able to pull my weight.

“We did,” I say. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay landlocked tomorrow. I think I need a refresher course before I can play skipper again.”

“That’s probably a good choice,” he teases. “I wouldn’t want you to get seasick all over Catalina’s shiny new deck.”

“Ew, Turner.” I shake my head at him. “I’m not a complete novice.”

“No, you’re not.” He smiles at me, and it feels laden with more meaning than usual. “Are you going to the Maze Party this weekend?”