Sway

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Dinner was over and the boys had gone to bed. Outside, the darkness slowly pushed the sun beneath the ground. We sat around a low, circular table that had a fire crackling in its center, our chairs squished together so we could all fit. Charlie brought out marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate and some roasting sticks. The smell of fire burning and melted chocolate drifted around us.

The sound of quiet chatter echoed through the air. Next to me, Sophia Croft shrugged a sweater over her shoulders and then turned to me.

“Mari told me you still play piano,” she said.

“Yes,” I replied. “Not as good as Eric, though.”

“Nonsense. I remember Eric saying you were a wonderful pianist.” Sophia’s blue eyes bored into mine, reminding me of the way Eric could bring out things I wasn’t prepared to share just by looking at me.

I glanced at Eric. He sat snuggled up with Lacey, their chairs practically on top of each other.

“Do you do anything with it now?”

“I’m hoping to teach,” I replied. “I have two interviews in a couple of weeks.”

“Ava’s performing this summer too,” Mari broke in. Conversations died out, everyone looked at me. I squirmed in my seat. The center of attention had always been an uncomfortable place. “In an orchestra, right?”

“I’m playing with the California Philharmonic,” I said.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful.” Sophia turned to Richard. “We should get tickets. I would love to see Ava play.”

“It’s no big deal.” Hopefully the darkness covered the heat spreading over my cheeks. “I don’t have any solos, so…”

“We would love to hear you all the same,” Sophia insisted. “When is your father going? It would be nice to finally meet him.”

I looked down at my lap. “I doubt my dad will go. It’s not really his thing.”

Everyone went quiet.

“Not his thing?” Richard burst out. “His daughter is not his thing?”

“It’s more the crowds,” I said. “And the drive.”

Mari snorted. “Be real, Ava. Dad doesn’t like mingling with common people unless they’re looking for his autograph—which is never these days. He wouldn’t mind a crowd if they were all famous movie stars or something.”

Sophia looked at Mari askance. “Your father sounds…” She struggled for the right word, finally settling on, “interesting.”

“I like to say eccentric,” I said. It beat self-absorbed.

Sophia placed another marshmallow on her stick. “So, he was an actor?”

“He did a few movies and he was on that soap opera—The Time of Our Life in the eighties and nineties.”

“I’ve never watched soap operas, I’m afraid.” Sophia gave me an apologetic look.

“Me neither. Although I’ve seen every one of my dad’s episodes. He sort of made us.”

Sophia chuckled at that. “Still, I can’t imagine not wanting to see your daughter perform. I attend every concert of Eric’s I can manage.”

I sighed. It was impossible to explain my father. Even I didn’t really understand him and I’d lived with him most of my life.

“It’s hard for my dad to come out of his comfort zone. He likes people to come into his world instead of the other way around.” Both Richard and Sophia shot me dubious looks. “His world has always been acting and his family. Without the acting now…he clings to what he knows.” Which was Kellynch, which he had just lost, and Beth.

“You have a sister who still lives with him, yes?” Richard asked.

“Our older sister,” Mari said.

“He and Beth are practically inseparable,” I said. “I think he wishes all his girls would have stayed with him. It was really hard for him when he sent Mari to boarding school after my mother died.”

Mari snorted at that.

“Why did he?” Lacey asked.

“My Aunt Rose convinced him it was for the best. He was still working at the time and Mari was barely twelve. Beth and I were older and I think my aunt thought we could take care of ourselves.”

“He had a hard time?” Mari cut in. “What about me? I’m the one who got sent away from everyone I knew to stay at some strange school. It was awful. Scarred me for life.”

Mari had been pushed out of her own family at a young age, sent away like she didn’t matter. I’d tried my hardest to be there for her, to make her feel loved, but she’d been on her own for much of her teenage years.

“You turned out just fine to me,” Charlie said. “I don’t see any scars.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Mari smiled.

“Aw, you guys are the cutest,” Lacey said. She leaned into Eric as far as she could with the chair arms between them. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

“Your dad may be eccentric, but he’s famous,” Lacey said, as if that was a logical excuse.

“Was,” corrected Mari.

“I love knowing all these famous people. First your dad, even though he’s really not famous anymore. Now Eric.” She turned her face to his and rubbed her finger along his chin.

“Not to mention all the celebrities who come into your store,” Mari added.

Lacey sat up straight. “We needed to become friends with Brad and Angie before they broke up. It would’ve been awesome, right?”

Mari nodded fervently. “A house in France so we can be neighbors.”

“If one of them even still lives there,” Lacey said.

I pressed my lips together and glanced at Eric. He also had his mouth mashed tight like he was trying not to laugh.

“You need to have kids first so our kids can play with their kids,” Mari said.

Eric’s shoulders started to shake. I had to look away so I wouldn’t burst out laughing.

“My little Sailor and baby Moon could play with their twins.” Lacey stared into the fire dreamily.

My eyes met Eric’s. Unable to contain it any longer, we both burst into laughter.

“What?” Lacey asked, staring between Eric and me, her mouth pulled down in a frown. “It’s not like I’m going to put X’s in all my boys’ names like Brangelina. That’s just stupid.”

We laughed harder.

“Sailor? And Moon?” I asked between chortles. “That’s what you’re going to name your kids?”

“After my favorite cartoon,” Lacey said.

“Of course!” Mari exclaimed. “I loved that show!”

“I know, me too!” Lacey glared at the rest of us.

It took a while for us to stop laughing. Even the Crofts couldn’t contain themselves. Lacey was not pleased.

“I always wanted to do what your dad did when he named you guys,” Lacey said.

Sophia arched her brows. “You’re named after a cartoon?”

I shook my head. “Dad named us after his favorite actresses.”

She considered me for a moment. “Ava Gardner.”

I shrugged. “It’s too bad I only got her name and none of her s*x appeal.”

“All that s*x appeal led to three failed marriages,” Richard said.

“Frank Sinatra,” Eric said.

Richard nodded. “And Artie Shaw.”

“Who’s Artie Shaw?” Lacey asked.

“Jazz musician,” Eric and I said at exactly the same time. Our eyes met and we shared a smile.

“Who was the third husband?” Mari asked.

“Mickey Rooney,” said Sophia.

“I never knew that.” I tried to picture beautiful and sophisticated Ava Gardner with short and kinda goofy-looking Mickey Rooney. I couldn’t do it. “What an odd couple.”

Sophia shrugged. “If you love someone, you love someone.”

I glanced at Eric. He leaned back in his chair. In the dying light, I could barely make out his features. I picked up my discarded roasting stick and pushed a marshmallow onto it.

“At least you look a tiny bit like her,” Mari said.

I opened my mouth to argue—the only similarity between Ava Gardner and me was our hair color—but Mari wasn’t done. She stood and gave a little twirl.

“I look nothing like Marilyn Monroe.” She slumped back onto her chair. “I’m not even blonde!”

“You were blonde as a kid,” I pointed out to make her feel better. “Dad didn’t know your hair would darken.”

“So Ava Gardner and Marilyn Monroe.” Sophia ticked the names off on her fingers. “What about your older sister? Isn’t her name Beth?”

I lifted my marshmallow from the fire before it could burn and grabbed a couple of graham crackers. “Elizabeth Taylor,” I replied. “Beth probably resembles her namesake the most out of all of us.” I snapped a piece of chocolate off the bar and squished my marshmallow between it and the graham crackers.

“Nah, Beth doesn’t look like Liz.” I looked up from making my s’more at Eric. He stared at me across the fire, his eyes glimmering in the firelight. “You resemble your namesake more than she does.”

Warmth spread through me, and not from the fire. “Beth’s got the confidence. The whole femme fatale thing going on that I could never pull off.”

Eric leaned forward, giving me an unreadable look. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’ve pulled off femme fatale before.”

And with that, all the warmth was gone. I stared at the trembling s’more in my hands.

I should have known he’d find a way to insult me.

Richard cleared his throat. The only sound after that was the crackling of the fire. Eric had this newfound talent of making any moment awkward. Or maybe it was us together.

Eric looked down at Lacey. “Don’t you want to know what names I’ve picked out for my kids?” he asked, trying to get the conversation going again.

“What are they?” she asked.

He smirked. “I’m going to have all boys. And I’ll name them Frank, Dean, Sammy, and Peter. And Joey if I decide to have a fifth. Or if I have a girl I could name her Joey.”

“Like Dawson’s Creek!” Lacey exclaimed.

“Like the Rat Pack,” I said.

“What’s the Rat Pack?” she asked. Eric, Richard and I all groaned.

I passed my uneaten s’more to Charlie while Eric gave Lacey a brief lesson in American history.

“Eric would have fit right in the Rat Pack,” Richard said. “Sing us something. Show Lacey here what a real crooner sounds like.”

Eric rubbed his hands together. “I know the perfect song.”

I cringed inside, waiting for what was sure to be another jab in lyrical form. When Eric launched into “Found a Peanut,” I relaxed.

“No, no!” Lacey shouted over the laughter coming from the group. Eric stopped with a grin. “Sing ‘No Two Hearts.’ I love that one.”

“Yeah, sing that one,” Mari said. “Please?”

Eric hesitated. He shifted on his chair, his eyes darting to everyone but me. Then he took a deep breath and launched into the song. I leaned back, listening, an ache washing over me as if it were the first time. Loss, misery, loneliness. Pain and regret. I picked each emotion out and tried to toss them aside where they couldn’t hurt me anymore.

Mari snuggled into Charlie. Richard and Sophia shared a look across the fire. Lacey gazed adoringly at Eric, a perfect picture of puppy love. That could have been me. Used to be me. Instead, Lacey was the one he sang to while her hand stroked his thigh.

Clearly, I wasn’t as adept at tossing aside my emotions as I wanted to be.