Page 74 of The Beach Trap

I stifle a laugh, then force myself to focus on Kat, who is now awaiting an answer. “Yep, that all sounds good. Thanks.”

“Where are you?” Kat says.

“Uh... just on a walk.” I don’t know why I feel reluctant to tell Kat about Noah. It’s like I don’t want to jinx things by talking about it. Like I want to keep it to myself, shiny and precious like a pearl.

Noah is now holding both of the dog’s front paws, doing a weird little shimmy-dance to entertain the kids. “Hey, Magic Mike,” he’s saying. “Shake that moneymaker.”

On my phone screen, Kat’s eyes widen. “Wait, are you with your guy? Let me see him!”

Noah glances over at me; he must have heard that.Your guy?he mouths, his eyes crinkling with mischief.

I shake my head, my cheeks warming, and lower my voice. “He’s notmyguy,” I tell Kat in an almost whisper. “I should get going—”

“Oh my god,” she says, her voice dropping. “You’re wearing Grandma’s dress.”

I freeze, berating myself for not asking Kat first. “Is that okay?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks. “Of course. It’s just—I haven’t seen that dress in ages. It looks great on you—with my hips I’d never get it on. Grandma would be happy that it’s being worn.”

But would she be happy her son’s illegitimate daughter is the one wearing it? I’m not so sure about that.

“Thanks,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. We’re having such a normal conversation, but it feels momentous. We’re talking aboutourgrandmother.Ourshared past. I suddenly wish I could reach through the phone and give her a hug, which is totally out of character for me, and she probably wouldn’t want that anyway. But I make a mental note to spend another evening with her soon. I want to talk more about our father. I want to tell her about Noah, too. We have fifteen years to make up for, and I don’t want to waste any more time.

She clears her throat, glancing away. Kat isn’t any more comfortable with emotion than I am. “I’ll let you go,” she says. “Have the best time.”

After ending the call, I rejoin Noah across the sidewalk.

“So...” he says. “Are things with Kat okay?”

“Yeah. Still a little awkward. Maybe it’ll always be that way between us. Sometimes she seems so completely opposite me, like...”

“Like how could you be sisters?” he says. “I’ve wondered the same thing.”

“We’re not really sisters,” I say automatically. We link hands and start walking again. “I know we share a father, but the word ‘sister’ implies memories, inside jokes. Some sort of intimacy. And we don’t have that.”

But I would like to, I think to myself.Maybe I can work on that.

“I don’t think Kat ever had that in her family,” Noah says.

My interest is piqued. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I understand pressure—my parents laid it on, too—but it almost seemed like it was Kat’s job to make her parents look good. Like they cared more about how she made them look than they cared about her.”

“What were her parents like?” My voice catches on the word “parents,” but luckily, Noah acts like he doesn’t notice.

“This one time—I was thirteen or so—my parents held a party and invited some families in the area, including Kat’s. Everyone was out on the lanai, and I went inside to the bathroom. I overheard Kat’s parents arguing in the kitchen. It felt nasty, like the air was saturated with the absolute contempt they had for each other. My parents, for all their flaws, never talked to each other like that.”

I’m having a hard time imagining my father behaving like that, even though it squares with how Kat described him the other night. In my memories, he was always so sweet to my mother. And why wouldn’t he be? She had no expectations of him. When he came to our place, the stress of his everyday life could melt away.

For the first time, I wonder if I was lucky to only see that side of him. Though I wonder which version was real.

“Anyway,” Noah continues, “when Kat’s parents came back outside a few minutes later, they were smiling like nothing had happened. It was... eerie. Like they’d put on masks or something. Turned into this happy, shiny, perfect couple.”

Kat must have seen her parents do the same thing, over and over again, throughout her life. It makes sense, when I think about it, why she’d be obsessed with creating a perfect image on Instagram. She learned it from her parents.

•••

Several days later,Kat has gone back to Atlanta to work her magic with some home décor sponsors, and Noah has a virtual interview about a potential job opportunity in New York. My main goal today is to install the new light fixtures in the dining room and bedrooms—free products Kat drummed up in exchange for placement on her Instagram feed. Have to admit, her influencer prowess has come in handy.

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