Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things Page 5

  “She’s only a few minutes later than you are,” Sebastian pointed out.

  “Yeah, but I drove all the way from Philly.” Tom squinted toward the car. “Wait, did she bring a date?” He turned to Sebastian. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  “That’s not her date,” Sebastian explained. “That’s her older brother. He’s visiting from Boston, helping their parents out with a few financial matters. Apparently he’s some kind of stock market whiz. She said he was going stir-crazy so I suggested she bring him along tonight.”

  While Edie was busily wondering who “she” was, the car doors opened and out stepped a guy and girl who appeared to be around twenty. They looked almost like twins: tall and slender with wavy black hair, tan skin, angular cheekbones, full lips that pulled upward at the corners as if tugged by a wicked secret, and large, dark, disturbingly mischievous eyes. They reminded Edie of demons, vampires, or some other paranormal species that’d evolved to look insanely hot in order to seduce their prey. Since no one else was scrambling for a crucifix, Edie held her ground.

  As the guy stepped around from the passenger side, a distinct swagger in his step, the girl slipped her keys into her purse, adjusted her miniskirt, and strode across the driveway, sweeping her long, thick hair over her shoulders and balancing so perfectly in her mile-high heels even Maria might’ve been impressed.

  “Great to see you again, Tom.” The girl placed a kiss on his cheek. Without even glancing at Edie, she reached over the fence, linked her fingers through Sebastian’s and gave him a quick but approving appraisal.

  “Look at you, all in white,” she practically purred. “So Gatsby.”

  “Then you read the book after all?” Sebastian asked.

  “Saw the movie. Same thing.”

  “Right. Okay.” Sebastian’s eyebrows flickered. “So, um, introductions.” He scratched at the back of his neck, oddly shifty, as he pointed everyone out. “This is Edie, that’s Tom and Jess, the guy just joining us is Henry, and this is my girlfriend, Claire.”

  As the word girlfriend pushed its way into Edie’s brain, her heart plummeted to earth and landed with a violent, nauseating splat. Of course he had a girlfriend. Why did she assume he didn’t have a girlfriend? And now he wouldn’t even meet her eyes. He was probably embarrassed she’d so obviously been crushing on him. Awesome. Mansfield day one: mixed bag. Day two: raging failure.

  “You’re the cousin?” Claire asked with a welcoming smile, the sort often seen on restaurant hostesses, real estate agents, and, well, nice people.

  “Yep.” Edie’s jaw tightened. “I’m ‘the cousin.’”

  “Maria mentioned you’d be joining us at Saint Penitent’s next week.”

  “I start Monday.” Edie forced herself not to gape. Claire was still in high school? But she was so cool, so confident, so . . . top-heavy.

  “Saint Penitentiary’s.” Tom took his sunglasses from Jess and slipped them on even though the sun had fully set. “School motto: High SAT scores, low fun.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Claire assured Edie. “I’ll help you settle in. I was new last year so I know exactly how you feel.”

  Edie manufactured a smile, grateful for Claire’s kindness but uncertain a girl with Claire’s easy manner and magnetic smile could empathize with all of Edie’s feelings, particularly those related to being sulky, bashful, awkward, or prickling with envy. She was probably smart, too, even if she hadn’t read Gatsby. Otherwise Sebastian wouldn’t have tossed out that quote about beauty being unattractive without intelligence. Edie felt so stupid. She’d actually let herself believe he was trying to compliment her mind.

  As the group filled in a few blanks on the quick introductions, Edie scanned the party, searching for a plausible excuse to go tend to the sharp-clawed, green-eyed monster that’d so swiftly taken up residence in her chest. Maria and Rupert were playing croquet with two other couples in the center of the open lawn under a canopy of little white lights. Julia was polishing off yet another glass of champagne behind her parents’ backs. Bert and Norah were chatting with the charity club ladies while Bert’s combover fluttered in the breeze, making him look like a baby bird.

  Edie turned back to the group and opened her mouth to say she had to go do something she hadn’t figured out yet. As she struggled to assemble her words, she noticed Henry staring at her.

  “What?” She patted her face, searching for crumbs or streaked makeup.

  “My sister’s a liar.” A rakish smile dented his cheeks. “This party won’t be boring at all.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Edie, watch out. Henry’s a terrible flirt.”

  “Not true. I’m an outstanding flirt.” He did a little sleight of hand, producing a tiny white rose, which he held out to Edie. The gesture was showy and well rehearsed, making it seem like he’d offered a hundred roses to a hundred girls.

  “No, thanks.” Edie waved him off, unimpressed.

  “You don’t like flowers?”

  “I don’t like bullshit,” she blurted, too steeped in rejection to pre-edit herself. She was about to apologize when she realized everyone was laughing, including Henry.

  “Guess you’ll have to find another way to entertain yourself while you’re in Mansfield, Henry,” Claire said.

  “Good luck with that.” Tom’s arm slipped around Jess’s waist again. “This town is Dullsville. Nothing to do but golf, gossip, or guzzle. Make sure you tell everyone you’re only visiting. Otherwise my stepdad’ll be on you to join the Mansfield Men’s Golf League.”

  “I don’t golf, and if I’m going to join a sports league, it has to be coed.” Henry’s eyes crept toward Edie’s. “But I suspect I can find more interesting entertainment while I’m in town.” He cocked an eyebrow.

  Edie folded her arms and shook her head. She was in no mood to “entertain” anyone, especially a guy who oozed arrogance and mistook it for charm.

  “Speaking of entertainment, it’s time to join the party.” Tom climbed over the fence, clumsy but laughing, catching his jeans cuff on a picket, losing a flip-flop, and nearly falling face-first into Norah’s garden. Once he righted himself, he swept Jess up in his arms and swung her over the fence as if he were rescuing a damsel in distress.

  “My hero.” She fell against Tom and they promptly locked lips, cooing and giggling with no care for who might be watching.

  Sebastian sheepishly extended a hand to Claire.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not as heroic as my brother.”

  “Too bad for me,” she teased.

  Her tone was light, without bite or sting, but Sebastian still flinched as if wounded. Claire didn’t seem to notice. She was busy assessing the fence, testing her grip and nestling a foot on a horizontal framing board. It was a small but weird moment. Edie couldn’t help but wonder why Sebastian had deliberately referenced his brother after admitting how much he hated being compared to Tom all the time. And why did Claire take the comment one step further? She had to know it would hurt. Or did she?

  Edie pondered the possibilities while Henry stepped forward, allowing Claire to brace herself on his shoulder. She took Sebastian’s hand and hoisted herself over the fence, her long legs easily clearing the top of the pickets.

  “Wow,” Sebastian said. “You’re my hero.”

  As they leaned toward each other, Edie bent to tie her shoe, only to remember it was buckled, not laced. Claire and Sebastian might’ve embraced. They might’ve kissed. They might’ve teleported to Budapest and back. Edie didn’t look up to find out. She remained crouched, examining her blisters while everyone waited for Henry to stroll casually down the driveway and up the other side of the fence, preserving both his clothes and his dignity.

  Once they were all gathered, Tom led the group toward the catering tent on the other side of the mazelike hedges. He wove his way through the milling crowd while nuzzling noses with Jess and barely avoiding a marble birdbath, a cater waiter, and three men in golf shirts who scurried out of h
is way. Sebastian and Claire followed, his arm around her waist, her fingers toying with his hair. Edie trailed at the back while Henry fell in line beside her as though he was her designated partner, flashing her a you-know-you-want-me smirk every time she made the mistake of glancing his way. He looked like the ultimate player with his perfectly fitted designer clothes, impeccably groomed black hair, and cultivated air of self-assurance. He was so not Edie’s type, though he was attracting plenty of flustered looks from the middle-aged women they passed. Hopefully one would draw him away soon and request a few private tips on insider trading.

  As the motley procession approached the little courtyard where Norah and Bert were chatting with the Great Hearts, Good Causes ladies, Edie considered excusing herself to join her aunt and uncle. They had their backs to her but their voices grew audible as she drew closer.

  “I just wish she was a little more grateful for the home we’re giving her,” Norah was saying with her usual tart superiority. “If I were in her position I’d be bending over backwards to show my gratitude, but then no one ever swept in and offered me everything a girl could possibly want.”

  “Do you want anything, dear?” Bert asked.

  Norah paused as if considering.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “But one does like to be asked.”

  Edie changed her mind, hurrying forward with her hand shielding her face. Anything was better than Norah’s company, even if it meant watching Claire’s hand trail down Sebastian’s back and pull his hip against hers. They were so affectionate with each other, all touchy-feely like they were really in love, the way people always looked in perfume ads. They probably rode tandem bicycles, shared fancy milkshakes, and tried on hats together. They probably had amazing sex.

  Edie forced herself to look away, furious her brain had gone there. It was the absolute last thing she wanted to think about. Desperate for distraction, she turned to Henry and pasted on a smile.

  “So, how long are you in Mansfield?” she asked casually.

  “Depends what I find to keep me here,” he replied not so casually.

  “You don’t go to college? Or have a job?”

  Claire shot him a playful grin over her shoulder.

  “Henry’s a ‘man of leisure,’” she said.

  “Seriously?” Edie asked, astonished such a thing existed.

  Henry shrugged, his demon/vampire eyes locking on hers.

  “Why work when I can afford to play?”

  Edie searched his smug expression, wondering if he ever uttered anything that wasn’t dripping with innuendo.

  “What exactly do you play?” she challenged.

  “The stock market, naturally.”

  “Naturally.”

  “And poker.”

  “Right.”

  “And a little guitar.”

  “Guitar?” she asked with more interest than she’d intended.

  Claire and Sebastian stopped and turned around, still attached at the hip.

  “Careful,” she warned Edie. “He only learned to play so he could serenade easily infatuated girls. Don’t fall for it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Edie said firmly. “I won’t.”

  Henry laughed while Sebastian smiled at her in a way she really wished he wouldn’t now that his smoking-hot girlfriend was wrapped around him.

  “Edie used to always have a guitar in her hands,” he explained to the others before turning back her way. “You still play, right?”

  “Sort of.” She recalled the stringless guitar under her bed, the notebook filled with songs, and the hope that she’d soon be able to play them without tearing up.

  “Me too.” Sebastian’s smile widened. “We should ‘sort of’ jam sometime.”

  An image of playing guitar together filled Edie’s mind: knee to knee in the shade of the tree they used to climb together, singing, strumming, laughing, happy. It was perfect. His sympathetic company was exactly what she needed to push through her grief. He’d understand if she cried. He’d get why playing was complicated. After three long years, she’d finally make her mom’s guitar sing again.

  She was about to blubber out a yes! when she caught Claire’s eyes, watching her as if sizing her up. Edie’d seen that look before, or something like it. Shonda had looked at her that way right before running across the parking lot, leaving Edie and James alone in his car. She must’ve sensed a tension or attraction. Either that or she’d overheard James promise to give Edie something to remember him by before she left Ithaca.

  Edie’s stomach sank. She’d forgotten he’d said that, or rather, she’d convinced herself she didn’t know what he meant. But as she saw the echo of Shonda’s suspicions in Claire’s eyes now, she realized she did know. And she’d consciously put herself in a situation she knew she should avoid. She couldn’t change it, but she’d make sure she didn’t do it again.

  “Edie?” Sebastian prompted. “Guitar? Maybe next weekend?”

  “Actually, I’m more comfortable playing alone,” she said.

  To her surprise, Sebastian’s smile dropped away completely, almost as if she’d slapped him. He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned and walked away with Claire while Edie was left to wonder what she’d done wrong. For god’s sake, his girlfriend was right there. What was Edie supposed to say? That they should wait till Claire wasn’t around so the two of them could make beautiful music together? The situation was impossible. Her crush was practically painted on her skin. He had to know. Besides, Claire seemed great, the sort of girl who could make a big difference in Edie’s first few days at her new school. Edie wasn’t going to mess that up over petty jealousies. She needed a friend more than anything else right now.

  They all caught up with Tom and Jess in front of a table lined with tidy rows of pre-filled wineglasses. Without hesitation, Tom started passing out the drinks. Apparently no one at Norah’s party was checking IDs or worried about who was drinking. Edie found this odd. She couldn’t keep up. As soon as she thought she had a handle on Norah’s rules and regulations, something made her feel like an outsider again, uneducated in the ways of high society. So when Henry handed her a glass, she simply took it. As he let go of the stem, his fingers brushed hers, barely, but enough to snap her nerves into alertness.

  “If you change your mind about playing solo,” he murmured, low and languid, “I know some spectacular duets.”

  “Coed duets?” Edie stared him in the eye.

  Henry smiled as if amused, which wasn’t the reaction she’d been aiming for.

  “As Shakespeare says, ‘Music is the food of love.’”

  “Only if you have an appetite for it.”

  “Oh, I have an appetite.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “Everyone does.”

  “Some more than others.”

  “Some more openly than others, maybe.” He took a calculated step toward her. “But we all want things.”

  Edie glanced at Sebastian where Claire’s arm twisted around his like ivy, or tentacles. Unable to deny Henry’s assertion but desperately hoping her wants were well hidden, she planted her blistered feet and squared off with him.

  “You think you know what I want?” she asked.

  “Not necessarily, but I know how to take direction.”

  “What if that direction is to exit stage left, pursued by a bear?”

  He laughed as he set a hand to his chest, reeling like he was wounded.

  “Then off I’ll go. Nursing my broken heart, waiting, pining, hoping.”

  Edie rolled her eyes as she turned away, leaving Henry to look elsewhere for entertainment. No doubt he’d find plenty of chances to hand out tiny white roses and charm some other girl into “directing” him, some girl who didn’t care if he wore more entitlement than cologne, although he did smell kinda good.

  “Why don’t we take your brother on a tour of Mansfield tomorrow?” Sebastian suggested to Claire. “See if we can entertain him for a few hours?”
/>
  “You mean a few minutes,” Tom joked, already on his second glass of wine.

  “I think it’s a great idea.” Claire nestled against Sebastian’s chest as he held her the way he’d almost held Edie. “Who wouldn’t love a private tour with John Gatsby?”

  Jay Gatsby, Edie thought, but she kept the correction to herself, certain Sebastian already knew and no one else cared. She caught his eye for a second while his gaze lingered on hers, asking a question she couldn’t quite parse. What was going on with him tonight? One second he was all confidence. The next he was a vortex of confusion.

  “You should come too,” he offered, cautious and hesitant. “We can revisit a few old haunts. Maybe grab some ice cream. They still have that strawberry rhubarb flavor you used to like so much.”

  Edie skipped a breath as a giddy little tremor ran through her. She couldn’t believe Sebastian remembered her favorite ice cream flavor. Maybe she didn’t have to totally avoid him. He was only asking her on a friendly afternoon outing, one his girlfriend was going on too. This wasn’t like the situation with James. Sebastian would never make a pass at her. He wasn’t that kind of guy. Besides, he only thought of her as a friend. She’d learn to only think of him as a friend. That was possible, right?

  “So, are you in?” His warm smile brimmed with anticipation while his eyes locked on hers as if her answer really, really mattered.

  “Yeah,” she said, far too fluttery for friendship. “Sounds great.”

  Chapter Seven

  * * *

  On Sunday afternoon Sebastian took Claire, Henry, and Edie on a tour of Mansfield. Edie gazed out the back window as he drove past the private country club, the even more private country club, and—for anyone who didn’t care for full-sized golf—the putt-putt course with the obligatory windmill and gaping-­mouthed spooky clown face. With an endearing enthusiasm that made Edie like him even more, Sebastian pointed out all his favorite landmarks, including the old brick library and the big stone church that sat on the main square in the center of town. Then he wrapped up the tour by offering to buy everyone ice cream at Cold Shoulder.