Page 120 of False God

“I was at Chloe’swedding, Christopher. Not on a global shopping spree.”

His scowl deepens. Mom only calls us by our full names—Elizabeth, Christopher, and Sebastian—when we’re in trouble. And she can be mildly terrifying, so those aren’t positive memories.

Ididgo shopping in Saint-Tropez, but I don’t mention that to my brother.

“And you could use some new clothes. You can’t possibly show up in that”—I give his basketball shorts a pointed look—“at the office.”

“I know how to dress for work,Elizabeth. Just didn’t feel like dressing up to eat dinner with you.”

I stick my tongue out at him as I close the door. “You’re starting soon, right? End of August?”

“Yeah.” There’s an edge to the word, one I’m surprised to hear.

“Are you …”

“Everyone’s in the living room?”

Kit walks off before I can answer. I trail behind him, feeling the lines form on my forehead.

I always assumed Kit was excited about working at Kensington Consolidated. It’s our family’s company. If my dyslexia hadn’t made an office job like that sound miserable, I know it’s where I would have ended up. But he sounds decidedlyunenthusedabout it, and I’m now realizing he hasn’t mentioned it once this entire summer. I’m not even sure if he’s been to see his fancy corner office yet.

When I return to the living room, Bash’s sprawled on the rug, and Kit has stolen my seat next to Mom on the couch.

I end up in one of the armchairs, Dad in the other. He’s having another silent conversation with Mom, head tilts and eyebrow lifts and forehead wrinkling substitutes for syllables.

It adds to the mystery of tonight. We don’t have dinners, all five of us, with any regularity. Barring a special occasion—I can’tcome up with any—my brothers and I getting summoned for a Wednesday night meal is random.

“Is something wrong?” I blurt out.

Bash and Kit both glance up from the tray of appetizers they were demolishing.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Dad says carefully. “But we do have some news to share with you.”

“Pleaselet it be another jet,” Kit says around a mouthful of cheese. “Lili hogs it.”

“Like you’d be using it for business.” Bash scoffs.

“Well, your mother and I will be using the jet to move back to New York,” Dad says. “Permanently.”

We all stare at him.

Kit speaks first. “What?”

“Your mother and I have decided to move back to New York. For good. We’re selling the house in LA. No more split schedules between coasts.”

“But … what about your work?” Bash asks.

The whole reason our parents left New York in the first place was for Dad’s job.

Dad glances at Mom, then exhales. “I’ve decided to return to Kensington Consolidated. Your uncle Oliver is announcing me as COO at the company gala this weekend.”

We all stare at him in shock, Kit looking the most stunned.

Dad worked at Kensington Consolidated before my brothers were born. But he has never—not once—mentioned returning to work there. I didn’t consider it as a possibility. I assumed my parents would continue jetting between coasts until they retired.

“This is a good thing,” Mom says, glancing around at all of us.

Dad nods in agreement. “It’s a change we’ve talked about for a few years. But it took a while to find the right person to take over the production company. I made Raymond a promise. But Kensington Consolidated—New York—has always been ourhome. You kids have all ended up on the East Coast, and it feels like the right time for us too.”

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