Page 90 of These Summer Storms

Before Sam could retort, Greta stepped in. “I’ll hand it to Mom, the universe gave her what she wanted.” A stream of mourners made their way from the helipad, through a break in the wall and down into the meadow. “Oh look, there’s Uncle Mike.”

Michael Haskins, her father’s first business partner. Childhood neighbors, Mike and Franklin had built the Storm prototype together in Franklin’s parents’ garage (Mike had also offered up $1,107). While Franklin had been consumed by the project, Mike had been in it for excitement and profit, and when they received their first injection of venture capital, he’d taken his cut and headed for greener (and richer) pastures. Since then, Haskins Enterprises had been the incubator for a half dozen companies, each one more integral to modern culture than the last. If Franklin was one of the ten richest people in the world, Mike had been far and away number one—for a time.

That rank had slipped a few notches three years earlier, when he’d left Julie, his wife of nearly forty years, with no choice but to split his massive fortune with her. Her replacement was on his arm that afternoon, thirty years younger and clinging tightly to Mike’s hand.

When he saw the siblings on the wall, looking down on the gathering of people below, he lifted his free hand in greeting. “Young Storms!”

Everyone waved as Emily called out, “Hi, Uncle Mike!”

He pointed to their mother and then back to them in the universal sign that he’d see them once he’d kissed the proverbial ring—and returned his attention to his new wife.

“I guess Mom changed her mind, after all,” Greta said.

Alice looked to her older sister. “About what?”

“She flipped her lid about us putting them on the list,” Greta said. “She and Emily had it out.”

“Really?” Alice was shocked. “I can’t imagine him not being here. But I guess all that emotion Mom has been bottling up had to go somewhere.”

“She didn’t change her mind,” Emily said, watching Mike cross into the great lawn. “Dad wanted him here, and I made sure he came.”

Everyone looked to Emily.

“Uh,” Sam began.

“What do you mean?” Greta added.

“Dadwanted him?”

Emily didn’t miss a beat. “No question.”

Chalking it up to Emily’s crystal-shop vibes, the siblings turned to watch as Mike and Twyla made their way down the meadow toward Elisabeth, holding court in summer white, beneath a wide-brimmed hat. As they drew closer, she stiffened almost imperceptibly, and looked up the slope to her children, her gaze hidden behind dark sunglasses.

“She’s hexing you, Em,” Sam said.

“Why didn’t she want them here?”

“Probably because of Twyla,” Greta said, her verbal shudder straight from Elisabeth’s training. “Access to a billionaire’s credit card, andthat’sthe dress she picks?”

“Greta…” Alice admonished.

“Oh, please. You were thinking it,” Greta defended. “Admit it.”

“I admit only that I enjoy every time I open my phone and see that Julie Haskins has donated another half a billion dollars to a worthy charity and made the rest of them look terrible.”

“Twyla’s really very sweet, you know,” Emily said.

“I’ve never met her,” Alice said. “But how doyouknow that?”

Emily shrugged one shoulder. “Claudia and I went to a gathering of yogis in the Hamptons during the eclipse last month; Mike and Twyla have a house there, so I asked if she wanted to come.”

“Twyla?” Greta tilted her head. “Why?”

A little shrug. “I don’t know. I thought maybe we should know her better. Considering. We meditated.”

“You could have invited me,” Greta said, sounding left out.

“Would you have wanted to meditate during an eclipse?” Greta’s face answered for her, and everyone snickered while Emily spread her hands wide. “You see?”

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