Page 14 of Look on the Bright Side

Your middle name? Carmine

Favorite food? Sardines

Whose favorite food was sardines? Really?

Books you like to read. Medical journals, an occasional biography. I do not read novels.

Of course he didn’t.

Things you do for fun, if you have fun, that is. I run 6 miles a day.

“Nailed it,” she murmured.

Names and ages of your siblings. Dante, 35; Sofia, 32; Isabella, 28

Lark would have to compliment his parents on their excellent name choices.

Your address. 35 Beacon St., Boston; 93 Monomoy Road, Chatham

Lark glanced at the girls, who were now making the dollhouse people pick out pets—a giraffe for Imogen, a Dalmatian for Esme—and googled the first address. Zillow showed a gorgeous apartment with a paneled library, marble countertops, a soaking tub in the bathroom, a vast living room and dining room. That condo wasn’t his, necessarily—the building had six units—but she imagined his would be similar. Last sold three years ago for $3.5 million. Rooftop access to a common area. (She bet he never went up there, not if the great unwashed could enjoy it, too.)

The second property, though, made her briefly consider marrying Dr.Satan. Holy guacamole! Zillow showed a property on Morris Island in Chatham, no longer on the market. Morris Island was an exclusive neighborhood in the most exclusive town on the Cape. Whereas the rest of the Cape, even Provincetown, still had neighborhoods where regular folks lived, Chatham was fast becoming a billionaire’s playground. Lorenzo’s house was mid-century modern and on a full acre, right on the water. Private beach (that sounded more like him), fireplaces, deck, a lush green lawn that probably used a separate well for watering.

Damn. Lark knew he was wealthy, but damn.

“Gran’s here!” Imogen announced, charging from the room. Esme scrambled to catch up. Mom was indeed a rock star with her granddaughters.

And Mom would not approve of her arrangement with Lorenzo Santini, Lark knew. She was a brutally honest person. Dad, though…he’d probably get a kick out of it. Grandpop definitely would.

Could she get through the summer without having Heather and Theo Dean hear about this, though? She sure would try. She still saw them. Why make them think she had a new boyfriend when it was just a pretense? The Deans lived here in Wellfleet, but if her family didn’t tell anyone, she’d be safe. She left the playroom and went downstairs, where her family was streaming in, hugging, insulting, laughing.

She had always been so glad to be one of the Smith kids. Her siblings were her armor. Harlow’s little sister, Addie’s twin, Robbie’s big sister. Winnie, well, she was a little different, a little standoffish compared to the rest of them, but she was rock solid. Mom was holding Imogen; Dad was letting Esme climb onto his back. Her parents beamed at each other for a minute, their special look of my God, our love made all these people, aren’t we amazing. Sure enough, her parents kissed. Not a peck, either.

“Please stop torturing us with physical affection,” Robbie said, covering his face with his hands.

“Seconded,” Winnie said. Their parents laughed, delighted at once again horrifying their kids with their chemistry.

“Be glad your parents still find each other smoking hot,” Dad said, getting a chorus of groans in response.

“Larkby Christina, you beautiful girl!” Grandpop called, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Hi, Grandpop,” she said, leaning into him for a hug. The comforting smell of Old Spice and Bengay enveloped her.

“I heard you’re switching specialties,” he said. “And I’m glad! Did you know, I nearly fell off the roof the other day? And if I had, you could’ve patched me right up and set my old bones.”

“Why were you on the roof, Grandpop?” she asked.

“There was the prettiest bird out there! It was blue, but it wasn’t a bluebird. I think it was an indigo bunting!”

“That’s exciting,” she said. “But maybe use those binoculars we got you for Christmas instead, hey?”

“Now that I nearly lost my balance and almost fractured my skull, I think I will!” he said. “Hello, Nicole, aren’t you wonderful for having us over for dinner. Thank you, sweetheart!”

Even Nicole’s stony heart couldn’t resist Grandpop.

Eventually, everyone found their place around the giant dining room table. When they were growing up, Addie and Lark had talked about their adult lives, the way all kids did. They both wanted to stay on the Cape, both wanted to be married and have kids, both wanted a big beautiful house so they could have family dinners and show off their domestic skills—cooking, hospitality, flower arranging.

Addie had made that dream a reality. Lark had been on track, but God had intervened. Or not intervened, as the case had been.

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