Page 104 of Look on the Bright Side

She missed him, too. More than she wanted to. “By the way,” she said, “Joy is hosting a party this weekend with the fake boyfriend’s family.”

“Oh, are they still doing that?”

“Yes. You’ll come, and if the kids ask you, tell them you’re still working on the house stuff.” She stood up. “Thanks for dinner.”

“I love you, Ellie.”

She grabbed her purse. “I love you, too. That’s the problem.” Then she turned and walked out of the restaurant into the breezy night.

TWENTY

LARK

Somehow, without Lark’s knowledge or consent, Joy was throwing a party for all the Santinis and all the Smiths. Even Henry’s mother was going to come. With her falcon.

Lark was still trying to wrap her head around it. But here it was, Saturday, and the caterers were already dropping off giant foil tins of food.

“I’m so happy!” Joy cooed. “You know, Paulie was always the one who organized things when we lived in New York, but I’m really enjoying myself.”

“Great,” Lark said. “That’s…yeah.”

“Will the handsome firefighter be coming? Dante?”

“I don’t know,” Lark said. She’d worked six shifts in five days, gone to Boston for a lecture from an oncologist at the Mayo Clinic and driven back the same night and spent four hours with a hospice patient. She’d only found out about the picnic via an all-caps text from Lorenzo Thursday night.

WHY IS YOUR FAMILY HOSTING A PARTY FOR MY FAMILY? RESPOND IMMEDIATELY.

The thought of seeing Dante again was both distressing and (she couldn’t lie) exhilarating. He was so stinking funny and gorgeous and kind, and a great brother. He loved his family. His arms were like something sculpted by Michelangelo, and his lips…

Yeah. Her brain was essentially in a blender at the moment.

But the party was happening, as evidenced by all this food. Mac and cheese, pulled-pork sandwiches, salads, deviled eggs, a complete New England clambake, shucked-on-the-spot Wellfleet oysters.

“Whose idea was this again?” she asked.

“Anita’s. This is what you get for being deceptive, honey,” Mom said, patting her shoulder.

“Thanks, Mom. That helps.” She rubbed her tired eyes.

“Everyone knows to pretend, not to worry. We won’t blow your cover.” Mom took a tray of food and went downstairs to the covered deck, where the buffet would be.

“I ordered an ice-cream truck, too,” Joy said. “I thought that would be fun.”

“Joy…” Lark sighed internally. She couldn’t fault Joy, whose heart was as big as New England. “This is amazing. You really went all out.”

Her friend’s face was bright with happiness, which reminded Lark that she hadn’t shot that face up with anything in the recent past. Not that she’d mention it. Joy looked prettier for it.

“You’re welcome, sweetie! I love entertaining. I’ve been so sad, I kind of forgot.”

Lark’s heart melted a little more. “In that case, I’m really glad we’re doing this. I’ll pay you back somehow.”

“Nonsense! This is my groove! Oh, did I tell you? Your mom’s going to do a painting class at Bayview, isn’t that great? Who knows? Maybe one of those old geezers is a Vincent Picasso in the making. Grab those bottles of wine and bring them downstairs, okay? Your dad is bringing ice.”

She obeyed, and for the next hour, ran trays, set out napkins, picked and arranged flowers, dumped ice over bottles of wine and cans of beer. Connery ran around her, excited by all the activity.

“Stick with me, Connery,” she said. “You’re my ally today. And don’t get eaten by the falcon, okay?”

It really was a perfect day for a picnic. Not a cloud to be seen, low humidity, enough of a breeze so that the hot sun wouldn’t drive anyone inside. And yes, Joy’s house was perfect for a party. The two huge decks; expansive lawn; vast, cool interior and views of the sparkling ocean. The girls would have a blast running up and down the wooden boardwalk. The shed contained all sorts of beachy accessories—kayaks, beach chairs, inflatables. Dad was down on the sand now, setting up a volleyball net.

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