Page 79 of These Summer Storms

Her sister-in-law’s willingness to do anything to get the hell out of there was admirable, and Alice’s laughter returned.

“Jesus, Alice! This isn’t funny!” Greta said, sounding like she might vibrate straight out the front door.

“It’s a little funny,” Alice offered.

“It’s really not,” Greta snapped. “Now I have to take care of her!”

“No, you don’t,” Emily said. “I’m literally taking care of her right now.”

“You?” Greta said. “You can’t be trusted to pour her a cup of Earl Grey, Emily. I mean, obviously. Because you’ve never had to worry or think or take responsibility once in your whole life.”

It was a cruel thing to say, and Alice stepped in. “Greta.”

“Don’t.” Emily straightened, looking much taller than her five-two. “I’m not a child, you know. I can take care of Mom. If you would let me, I could actually relieve some of that weight you’re so fucking proud of carrying around.”

They stared each other down, and for the first time, possibly ever, Alice understood Emily. She wasn’t frivolous or flighty. She was a grown-up. It was a strange thought, considering the current situation, but maybe this was exactly the kind of scenario that tested maturity. A mistake, out in the open rather than turned into a secret.

“Claudia.” Jack spoke, reminding everyone he’d been watching. “You’ve used this tea before?”

“Oh, of course.” She waved a hand. “I wouldn’t have made tea with something unknown. I’m not an amateur.”

“Understatement.” Sam’s phone.

Alice let out another little bark of laughter and Greta shot them all a withering look. Alice shrugged. “Maybe you let them handle this one.”

An eternity passed before Greta nodded, barely. “Fine.”

The air shifted, and Emily couldn’t help a joke. “You wanna try some, Greta? You might enjoy the ride.”

No one in the universe would enjoy the ride less than Greta.

“No, thank you.” Greta looked at her watch. “Dad’s whole team is about to turn up alongside theSecret Service,Mom ishigh,and tomorrow half the world will be here to take stock of how we’re handling our grief. God.Someoneought to be sober through the fallout.”

“Oh please,” Alice said. “You think the Secret Service hasn’t seen this before? The entire C-suite at Storm Inc.—including Dad, I might add—spent the first ten years of the company on coke. And besides”—she waved a hand toward Jack—“that’s what we have Jack for. To fix stuff.” She met his gaze. “Right, Jack?”

The only sign of Jack’s surprise that she’d referenced him was the slight rise of his brows. “Correct.”

“Jack. Is. Not. In. Charge,” Sam’s phone said.

Greta nodded. “Sam’s right. This isn’t his family. This isn’t his fune—” She stopped. “Celebration.It’s Mom’s.” It was Franklin’s actually, but no one corrected her. “One of us has to be a grown-up and handle this if Mom can’t because she is—”

“Sitting under a tree,” Alice helped.

“Franklin’s tree,” Elisabeth clarified again, dreamy.

Greta scowled. She looked at Emily. “How long is she going to be like this?”

“She’ll be fine. It just has to wear off.”

“How long will that take?” Alice asked.

“Not long. She’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“Bytomorrow!” Greta shouted.

“Chill, Greta. There are worse things than microdosing.” Emily looked to Jack and said, “Jack can handle the Secret Service. I mean, look at him.”

His brows shot up. “That sounds like an insult.”

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