Driftwood Summer by Patti Callahan Henry Page B

RSVP list. She opened the manila folder, scanned the guest list without realizing who she was looking for until she found him: Mack Logan.
    She smiled inside and looked up at Riley, who kissed Mama on the cheek, then turned to her sisters. “Come on, girls. We’ll go to the back porch and talk. Then I have to get back to the store for the Budding Artists class.” Riley motioned for her sisters to come with her.
    “And”—Adalee raised her hand as though she were in a classroom—“I need to meet Chad at the Beach Club.”
    While the three sisters headed to the porch, Maisy tucked the knowledge of Mack Logan’s imminent arrival inside her heart like a secret. Maybe, just maybe, this trip wouldn’t be a total waste after all.

SIX
    RILEY
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Riley’s heart hurt already. She didn’t want to head into a week of nonstop activity with a negative attitude, but her sisters weren’t helping. The three of them walked onto the back porch after the meeting with Mama. Adalee sidled up from behind Riley, plopped onto the wicker divan, kicked off her flip-flops to put her feet on the glass-top coffee table. She pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it.
    “There is no way Mama would ever allow you to smoke in her house.” Riley took the cigarette from Adalee and dropped it into a glass of water on the side table.
    “Hey! You can’t do that. . . . I’m not inside the house and you’re not my mother.”
    “Yeah, you already told me that,” Riley said. “I also don’t want Brayden to see you smoking.”
    The screen door opened and Brayden’s wide smile appeared. “Too late. Already saw Aunt Adalee smoking. You know you’ll get lung cancer, don’t you?”
    “Now who is teaching this child to be judgmental at twelve years old?” Adalee crossed one leg over the other.
    “Let’s just get through all this.” Riley pointed to the notebook Mama had given Maisy. “There’s everything you need.”
    “Thanks.” Maisy smiled at her sister, plotting her next move: a hot bath, a whiskey on the rocks and a solid ten hours’ sleep.
    Riley continued. “Adalee, here is the last newsletter and a draft of the one Mama wants for this week. Please ask me if you need any help. I’ll show you where the template is on the computer.”
    Adalee nodded, but said nothing—her usual ploy. Most often this drew attention to her and prompted wheedling to get her to speak. No one wanted Adalee mad and silent. But Riley vowed not to let it get to her this time .
    Riley spoke for fifteen more minutes about what they would need to accomplish in the next few days. Finally Maisy stood. “Listen, I can’t do one more minute of this insanity without some sustenance.”
    “There’s some fried chicken in the fridge. . . . It’s from yesterday.” Riley closed the notebook. “I’m done anyway.”
    “No, I meant a drink. Come on, girls. Up we go. Off to Bud’s for a good old-fashioned cold draft beer.” Maisy rubbed her hands together.
    Riley waved her away. “Go ahead. I have Brayden, and I’m gonna head back to check on the store.”
    Maisy shrugged. “Okay, then. Come on, Adalee.”
    Adalee jumped off the couch, slipped her flip-flops onto her feet. “Totally awesome. Let me call Chad and tell him where I’ll be. Maybe he can meet us there later.”
    Riley turned to face Maisy, whose full attention was on her cell phone screen. Riley stared at her sister in her preoccupation, her first opportunity to really look at Maisy. She still possessed a beauty that was difficult to define with words like pretty or pleasing. There was something unsettling about the combination of Maisy’s features, which drew stares from men and women, even children. Her bronze hair had risen from the more obscure place in the Sheffield gene pool; their great-aunt Martha-Rose had had the same hair. Maisy’s wide smile was juxtaposed against her tiny nose and round, sometimes green, sometimes blue eyes.
    Maisy looked up. “Why