Page 7 of The Summer We Danced

“Well, how nice for you,” Crista said coolly. “My memories of those summers weren’t as spectacular.”

“Oh, Crista.” Vivien made a face. “I hate that.”

“Whatever,” she said, flicking off the sympathy. “I loved it here, too, but I was lonely a lot of the time. And at the end of those summers? You two were both in college, Dad went to jail, and Mama and I had to move into an apartment. She was never home because she had to work at that dentist’s office, remember?”

Eli sighed. “You know what, Cris? That’s a valid gripe. You were alone a lot those summers and as teenagers, we never really went out of our way to include a kid so much younger. And you’re right. During the worst of the legal wrangling, we were away at college and it was a lot easier for us to separate from Dad’s arrest. Then you ended up living with Mom, and she had to work.”

“I’m still living with Mom,” she said, a weirdly droll note in her voice as she lifted the cup again, but didn’t drink.

“And that’s okay, isn’t it?” Vivien asked, obviously hearing it, too.

“Oh, sure, it’s…” She tipped the cup from side to side, then put it down. “Is this truth serum? I’ve hardly had a drop but definitely feel it.”

Eli leaned closer. “Is everything all right with you?”

For a second, she looked like she might cry—no surprise, this was Crista the Crier. But it was the pain in her expression that got him. The deep, real pain that wasn’t just being annoyed by their mother.

“Crista?” He reached his hand out, but she drew back.

“Nothing’s going on,” she said, crossing her arms. “Nothing at all.”

Whoa, it might be worse than he realized. Of course she’d keep quiet about problems—she’d inherited that trait, or learned it, from Maggie. Add to it that having the appearance of a perfect life was very, very important to her, and…yeah.

His little sister had problems.

“Maybe you could spend some time here,” Vivien suggested, no doubt picking up all the same things. “This summer? When Nolie’s out of school?”

She shook her head. “No, we’ll have other things to do this summer,” she said vaguely, again giving the impression there was more she wasn’t saying.

“Can you stay a few days?” Eli asked. “Destin’s so good for the soul and we can keep talking.” Not only did he think that might help her, but he also had to break the news to her about Kate.

“My soul is fine,” she said lightly, then smiled. “Maybe not as fine as yours, Eli, but then, I don’t go to church like you.”

“But I do want to keep the dialogue open,” he said, not willing to give up. “Please think about it.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m not thinking about anything until both of you promise there will never be anyone named Wylie in this house again.”

Was she serious? Eli grunted softly and closed his eyes.

“You can’t promise that?”

He ran a hand through his hair, a band of pressure around his chest as he rooted around for the right words.

“Look, Cris,” he said. “We completely understand and respect that there’s a tough history here, especially for our mother. We love her, too, and would never want to upset her. But she’s not always right about everything. There could be much more to the story or even another side to the story. Or it could be a regret that Artie took to his grave.”

He almost told her that he and Kate had gone to visit old family friends in search of answers about the falling out, and they’d given conflicting—and ridiculous—stories about the couples having affairs with each other. But what if there was truth to that?

She’d flip out. Eli, Kate, Tessa, and Vivien had all agreed that allegation was simply preposterous.

“Honestly, Tessa and Kate didn’t even know our father had died,” Vivien told her. “Furthermore, they knew he went to jail but never once in the time we’ve been together has anyone ever said anything about Artie telling the police.”

“Not a word,” Eli agreed. “And people’s memories get foggy, especially as they get older. Mom’s seventy-eight…” He made a face and held up a hand as if he expected an argument. “I know you two are very close, but…”

Crista’s shoulders sagged. “Not quite like we used to be,” she admitted under her breath.

He knew it. “What do you mean? You and Mom are best friends. I mean, she lives with you, and you named your daughter after her.”

“I did and I would do it again,” she said. “I love Mama more than anything. But things…have been really hard recently.” Her voice cracked slightly, tears threatening.

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