Right Girl, Wrong Side

by Ginny Baird

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Multicultural & Interracial Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

Busy flower shop manager Evita Machado can't wait to get to Nantucket. With a bad breakup behind her, relaxing at the shore with her folks and her brothers and their families sounds like the sure cure for heartache, and their vacation destination looks like an amazing place! But when they arrive at the quaint rose-covered cottage, another group has already put down stakes: the Hatfields. Ryan Hatfield was Evita's former crush from high school, but their business rival moms refused to let them date. Now history professor Ryan is here for a week with his parents, who won them this oceanfront rental in a society silent auction. Once it's clear there's been a double-booking due to a bidding mistake, Ryan's mom digs in her heels, meaning to stay. When Evita's mom won't back down either, both sides tepidly agree to share the luxury accommodations by dividing the cozy space. With the boisterous Machados livening things up and the strait-laced Hatfields tamping them down, can Evita and Ryan keep the peace between the warring factions while fostering a growing chemistry between the two of them?

Release date: March 28, 2023

Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca

Print pages: 358

Sample

One

Evita Machado could tell a lot about a person by the kind of flowers they ordered. Roses had their own special code. Yellow roses stood for friendship. Pink roses for sweetness. Red roses always said love. She placed three pretty red roses in a bud vase then added two sprigs of baby’s breath and some greenery. She topped it off by winding a silky red ribbon around the vase and tying it in a lavish bow.

“Last order of the day!” she said, inserting the plastic card holder into the vase. She stood at the workstation at the rear of the shop facing the street. Some florists kept their workstations in back and out of public view, but not Evita. She was too chatty and outgoing to spend hours alone in a gloomy storeroom.

Josie smiled from behind the register by the front window. It was a mild afternoon. Breezy and warm. The perfect summer day. “It’s a pickup. I’ll wait.” She wore her straight blond hair in a ponytail and had bright-blue eyes. Her forest-green shop apron matched Evita’s.

“No,” Evita said. “You go on home. You’ve got that wedding of yours to plan.” Josie and David were getting married in September, and the couple couldn’t wait. They’d been dating for over a year and were ready to make things official. Evita liked David, who managed an area nursery. He and Josie had connected over plant talk when she’d stopped by to pick up some potting soil. He was a good guy and very well matched with Josie. Evita was pleased to be included in their wedding party as Josie’s maid of honor.

The flower-arranging station was a mess with clippings and discarded ribbon remnants covering its woodblock surface. She picked up the small dustpan and handheld broom from nearby and began sweeping up the clutter, depositing it in the waste bin.

One whole wall of the shop was an encased refrigerator section, teeming with gorgeous ready-to-go floral arrangements. The opposite wall housed bins of netting and other supplies along with spools of various ribbons, and a counter with stools and catalogs for customers to browse through when they ordered in person. That happened most often for larger events like weddings.

Josie’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah, and you’ve got your beach week to pack for.”

Evita was so ready for this vacation. She hadn’t taken more than twenty-four hours off since opening this shop three years ago. Getting her new business launched had been challenging but fun, and now they were finally turning a profit. She was thrilled with the name she’d chosen too: Coming Up Roses. So cute and upbeat. Fitting for Lexington, Massachusetts.

If she stayed solvent a few more years, she’d be able to tackle her long-term goal of starting that community garden in the disadvantaged neighborhood where her grandparents still lived. It would be her way of giving back, and she had so many great ideas about making it work.

Evita finished tidying up and sat on a stool. “Yeah,” she said, dreaming of white sands and sunny skies. “Can’t wait.” Her olive skin rarely burned, but she’d slather on extra SPF as a precaution. Ah, to lie in a lounge chair and breathe in the ocean. Maybe with a tropical drink in her hand. Her dad’s piña coladas were amazing, and her mom’s cooking put the rest of their efforts to shame.

Her brothers and their wives made up for any culinary deficits with their good humor and warmth, and she loved being auntie to their cute kids. Even when they were being a handful and chasing each other around the house half-naked and screaming. That’s usually when her dad cranked up the music. The symphony of Latin music played in her head. Wailing trumpets, rattling maracas—guitars, guiros, and tambourines.

Machado family beach party, yay!

“So?” Josie asked. “Have you told them?”

Evita grimaced. “About Sebastian?” She’d been putting that part off. “Not yet.”

Josie’s mouth dropped open. “They don’t still think he’s coming to the beach?”

She’d been working up the nerve to tell her family that she and Sebastian had broken up after he’d accepted a Fulbright scholarship in Mexico and had become involved with someone else. Someone with whom he had so much more in common. He even told Evita her name, Liliana. He’d met her playing tennis, and she sounded like

everything Evita wasn’t: super athletic and with advanced degrees. Sebastian was all about higher education. He basically fanboyed anyone in academia with a name. But those names meant nothing to her.

“Evita,” Josie said. “You guys split up in January.” She frowned. “It’s June.”

“Yes. And…” She licked her lips. “I’ve been waiting on the right time.”

“Which was six months ago.” Josie set one hand on her hip. The diamond on her left hand caught the light and shimmered.

If things had gone according to plan, Evita would be wearing an engagement ring of her own right now. Last year, she and Sebastian had talked about making things official this spring, and her parents had been ecstatic. When Sebastian didn’t come home over spring break as expected, Evita invented some excuse, and her family assumed their pending engagement was postponed, not cancelled completely.

She was the only one of her parents’ kids not married, and they were anxious for her to “settle down”—she supposed so they could stop worrying about her. But they didn’t need to worry. She was a twenty-eight-year-old independent woman, not some helpless child.

Although she had felt pretty helpless when Sebastian dumped her. That had been a heartless act to undertake long distance—by text. The jerk. Good thing she was over him. Way over him. Her heart gave a little twist. Totally. And not looking back.

“I was still healing in January.”

Josie frowned. “And February?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the holiday.”

“Which holiday?” Josie smirked. “Valentine’s Day?”

“No, seriously,” Evita said. “My parents love it! That’s the day they got engaged.”

“So. What happened with March?”

“Quique broke his arm.”

“Quique?”

“Enriquito, my nephew. Chachi’s son.”

“Oh yeah.” Josie surveyed the ceiling like it was all coming back to her. “Chachi—for Carlos, right? He’s married to Kendra and their little girl is Nanny.”

“For Ana Maria, yes,” Evita said. “Your memory’s very good.”

“That’s only because you’ve talked about your brothers nonstop for the past two years.” Which was how long Josie had worked here and also the approximate amount of time they’d been best friends. “I know you’ll be happy to see them.”

“It’s been way too long. It will be the first time I’ve met Robby and Eunice’s sweet baby, Luisa.” She was only two months old, such a precious age. Practically a newborn.

“What’s her nickname?”

“Just Luisa.”

Josie shook her head. “At least that’s easy.”

Evita laughed, and her springy curls bounced.

Sebastian had loved her

long hair, but she loved herself this way a lot better, with short hair that didn’t need straightening. After years of wasted hours spent with her flat iron, her new look felt like freedom. She was actually glad Sebastian had left her. Otherwise she wouldn’t have realized how hard she’d been trying to bend herself to please a man. Her emancipation had come in February, shortly after she saw what he should have seen in her mirror. A dynamic woman, who was good enough as she was.

Scratch that. Not good enough. Great. Fantastic. Strong, accomplished, savvy. And someone who was very skilled with a pair of scissors, thank you very much. She’d never put herself in a position of weakness around a guy again. And now she was going on vacation. Surrounding herself with love and family, so she could completely let down her guard. Recover. Breathe. Forget about guys for a bit.

Josie carefully scanned her eyes. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I did.” She started counting on her fingers. “Quique broke his arm in March, and my parents went to help Chachi and Kendra with things in Brooklyn.”

“I thought that was just for a few days?”

“No need to heap bad news upon family tragedy.” Evita lowered her eyebrows and kept counting. “Luisa was born in April.”

“Which was a happy occasion, yeah?” contested Josie.

“So you wanted what?” Evita frowned. “Me to rain on their new-baby parade?”

“Evita, I hardly think your family—”

Evita held up her hand with her counting fingers. “My parents flew out to LA for a week, and Mom was a wreck, conducting real estate closings virtually.”

“I thought she did that all the time?”

“Yeah, but not while holding a colicky baby.”

“Luisa’s colicky?” Josie winced. “Oh, sorry. My brother’s kid was that way.”

Evita rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as they say.”

Josie blew out a breath. “So May?”

“That’s the start of our wedding season! On top of Mother’s Day and college graduations, we got so busy at work I couldn’t prompt a big family drama. You know how Mom adored Sebastian. Dad too.”

“But—it wasn’t your fault.”

“No.” Evita set her chin. “And that’s what I’m going to tell them. The moment we get to the beach.” She added slyly, “With my brothers and their kids serving as distractions, that will take the spotlight off of me.” Plus, her parents would understand. They loved her. Once her family learned about Sebastian, they would love him less. Especially her brothers.

Josie’s forehead rose. “Sounds like you have yourself a plan.”

“I do. And the beach house is dreamy. One of those shake-sided, rose-covered deals.”

Josie smiled. “Nice.”

“Best part! I get to have my own suite. With an ocean view and everything. There are four en suites so my brothers and their wives, and my parents, will have theirs too. And Quique and Nanny will have separate rooms so they won’t fight.” Those two were always antagonizing each other, despite Chachi being a school counselor and Kendra a child psychologist. Oh well. They were only seven

and five. They’d grow out of it. She hoped.

“Ooh. Lux accommodations. Good thing your mom won that silent auction of hers. Places like that go for a fortune, I hear. Nantucket’s not cheap.”

“Yeah. Mrs. Hatfield was determined to outbid Mom, but she didn’t. Apparently, the bidding was neck and neck till the end. My mom was not going to lose to Daneen Hatfield.” She rolled her eyes. “Of all people.”

Josie tsked. “Their competition’s still going strong, huh?”

Evita crossed her arms. “I’m sure you’ve seen their competing billboards with each of them claiming to be the top commercial real estate agent in the area.”

“There can’t be two tops.”

“Exactly.”

“Which one of them do you think it is?”

“No clue, but I’m guessing it’s very close.”

“Well, at least you won’t have to worry about that rivalry while you’re away. Or anything else stressful really.” She was glad about that. Having her mom and Ryan’s mom at odds during their high school years had been bad enough.

He’d been a cute guy. Brainy. She’d majorly crushed on him in high school, when they’d been chemistry lab partners in the eleventh grade. He’d rocked memorizing that periodic table. Near genius level. They’d been on friendly terms before that but grew a lot closer during the semester, and a part of her had hoped for more. The thought of dating him had seemed dangerous, verboten—so totally against her family’s wishes that she’d almost been tempted to try it—but he’d never been interested in her in that way. He’d only seen her as a friend.

He’d had his own crowd and extracurriculars, anyway, while she’d been into foreign languages and art. Then she discovered horticulture, and it had been love at first frond. She got a part-time job at a garden center, determined to learn everything about plants that she could. And Ryan started dating someone else, Layla Petroski, homecoming queen. He’d gone on to grad school to do something or another. Her mom probably knew because she knew everything about the Hatfields, but Evita wouldn’t dare ask her.

Speaking the Hatfield name was akin to blasphemy in their house.

Josie sighed dreamily. “I hear Nantucket’s beautiful. Bet you’re looking forward to the peace and quiet.”

Evita laughed, considering the concept of a staid family reunion.

“The Machados don’t do quiet, but I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”

***

Ryan Hatfield’s mom threw open the front door to the seaside cottage. Its front porch faced a parking area and a sandy stretch dotted with seagrass. The gray shake-sided building and its weathered picket fence were covered with pink climbing roses.

“Well, isn’t this lovely!”

Her eyes gave the vaulted-ceiling room an appreciative sweep. Enormous windows framed an ocean panorama straight ahead of them, and French doors opened onto a covered porch. Beyond that, the expansive deck held a stone firepit surrounded by Adirondack chairs and connected to wooden steps with railings descending to a private

beach.

Ryan’s dad adjusted his tie. “It is stunning, yes.” Typically, he’d go into his office before leaving on vacation, even though it was Saturday. His tax accountant job kept him on a rigorous schedule. There was always an end-of-the-quarter crunch, a mid-quarter crunch, a start-of-the-quarter—something or another. Ryan’s eyes glazed over at the details.

Ryan was more into historical dates than hard cash numbers, but his mom was also big on the bottom line. She’d stayed glued to her computer up until the very last minute this morning, negotiating a mega shopping complex deal that simply couldn’t wait. None of her corporate real estate deals could wait. All were perpetually urgent.

Ryan and his teenage sister, Maddy, had done the brunt of the legwork loading up the SUV. He’d stayed over at his parents’ house last night so they could get on the road early. But he might as well have driven over this morning, given that his folks’ business preoccupations had caused departure delays. They didn’t get away until after two, so wound up having lunch at home then eating the sandwiches they’d prepared for the road on the ferry as an early supper. It was nearly seven now, but there was plenty of daylight left to enjoy the scenery.

The great room before them led to a dining area on the left and a kitchen on the right. The kitchen gleamed with high-end stainless steel appliances and polished stone countertops, and had an island in its center flanked by high bar stools. The dining area contained a long table with seating for ten and extra chairs pushed up against the wall. Separate spiral staircases on either side of the entryway led upstairs to an open loft adjoining narrow hallways. Ryan noted the loft was some kind of library with packed bookshelves and comfy furnishings scattered about.

Maddy pulled the earbuds from her ears and glanced around, holding her phone. She stared out the French doors at the deck and the broad swath of the ocean. “Where’s the pool?”

“Don’t think there is one,” her mom answered.

Maddy puffed out her pale cheeks, her face turning pink. “I thought you said ‘luxury,’ Mom?” She goggled at the open floor plan, staring at the wide foyer’s four closed doors. From the photos he’d seen of the house, Ryan knew one led to a half bath and another to a coat closet. The others, on opposite sides, opened into large, ground-floor suites. There was a laundry room off the kitchen.

None of the online pics did this place justice. It could double as a Hollywood set.

“This is very high end,” his mom told Maddy. “I won’t have you complaining. Each of us gets our own suite with a wonderful view.”

At least that was something. Ryan had been about as thrilled as Maddy about taking this forced family trip. But their mom had eventually beaten everyone down with her relentless insistence that this vacation was going to be different. During their previous vacations, they’d barely said two words to each other and had kept themselves apart.

As her broker’s top-selling agent, she’d earned tons of ritzy incentive trips to various fancy locales, but she’d won this place in a charity auction. Therefore, this week was bound

to be special in her eyes. More focused on downtime and relaxing than adventuring at some glam resort. A chance for all of them to truly connect for once, bond.

Which generally meant making awkward conversation during cocktail hour and at mealtimes while Maddy played on her phone and Ryan self-consciously avoided pesky questions from his parents about his career and love life.

Boy, this was going to be fun. Maybe he should have attended that revolutionary period history conference instead. He checked his phone. Registration had closed. It was too late.

Not that he could get out of this now.

He was in it for the next seven days.

“Go on then,” Ryan’s dad encouraged his kid sister. “Why don’t you check out the upstairs and see which suite you’d like?”

Maddy lugged her backpack and duffle bag along, lumbering up the spiral steps. “Oh wow,” she said, glancing out at the sea and their desolate surroundings. “It’s like we’re the only people on this planet. There’s no tiki bar or anything? Jet Ski rentals? Parasailing?”

“This isn’t Cancún, sweetheart,” their dad said.

Their mom shook her head, and her blond pageboy wobbled from side to side. She held part of it back with a beige headband that matched her short-sleeved beige cardigan sweater. She always dressed in pearls like she was expecting a surprise photo op. Ryan didn’t think he’d ever seen her in shorts. Just capris like she wore now. With a tangerine-fruit-patterned orange top.

“Or Barbados either,” she told Maddy. “But there’s a small town close by called ’Sconset Village. Looks sweet. Maybe we can go there exploring? Get ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” Maddy sighed and rolled her eyes so hard they nearly got sucked back into her head. “I’m not eight, Mom. I’m fifteen. Sixteen next month.”

Ryan felt sorry for his little sister. She was so determined not to be seen as a kid that she was making herself miserable. He guessed she had other things going on, but he didn’t know what. With the age difference between them, they’d never been super close. He worried about her and wished he could help. Maybe this vacation would be good for them. Without the distractions of Jet Skis and visiting Mayan ruins. Although he’d loved Tulum.

Their dad ran a hand through his cropped brown hair. “The whole island’s very small,” he said cajolingly. “Only fourteen miles long and three-and-a-half miles wide. This house comes with some bikes, so maybe we can—”

Maddy gawped at him. “Exercise? On vacation? Ugh. No thanks.” She turned and continued up the stairs, her long blond hair swinging behind her. She was a little heavier set than the rest of them and shorter than their mom. Ryan was on the tall side like his dad.

He wore his sandy-colored hair short and shaggy in no particular style. The casual vibe suited his role as a professor. His mom would have preferred it more if he’d taken a job at a nameplate university. But no, that wasn’t him. Community college was what he wanted because it was a population he badly wanted to reach. He loved his students, and they loved him. He didn’t care about prestige or his paycheck, as long as he could pay his bills and set some aside for that piece of property

 he hoped to purchase someday.

He had this romanticized notion of buying a historic farmhouse and refurbishing it on his own. It would take some muscle, but he was handy. Something his parents never gave him credit for, along with pretty much everything else.

His mom watched Maddy disappear down an upstairs hallway. “I don’t know what she’s so grumpy about. School’s out for summer.”

“And her cello schedule’s much lighter now,” his dad said.

“Yes, but she has her summer orchestra performances coming up,” his mom said. “She can’t afford to slip.”

There’d been a minor scuffle this morning about his mom wanting Maddy to bring her cello to the beach, saying she couldn’t risk having any practice lapses. Not if she still wanted to get into Julliard. Maddy had claimed she wanted a break. Ultimately, the SUV’s trunk area had had the final say. There was no room for a cello once everything else had been packed.

His mom threw up her hands. “Oh well! I’m determined to have fun. Just look at this place.” She turned to Ryan. “Let your dad and me take a peek at the two suites downstairs. After we pick, you can have the other one.” She whispered when Maddy crossed through the loft above them. “The first-floor suites are larger.” She squealed. “Plus, they have Jacuzzi tubs.”

They heard Maddy opening and closing doors, then she reappeared. “I’ll take the one over the kitchen.”

“What else is up there?” her dad asked her.

“A couple of small rooms with bunk beds and a big bathroom behind the loft.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “Between the bookcases back there. The suites have their own bathrooms.”

As Ryan explored the house with his parents, his dad said, “Very nice work winning this place, Daneen. It’s fabulous.”

“I agree, Kirk.” Her mouth twitched. “And to think Lissette Machado thought she was going to snatch it right out from under me.”

His dad shook his head. “I’m sure she didn’t stand a chance.”

“No. I kept my eye on that ball. Every bid she placed, I topped it.”

Ryan’s shoulders sank. Really? After all these years? The two of them were still at it? His mom and Mrs. Machado had had some huge fight in high school when they’d both run for class president, with Mrs. Machado ultimately winning and his mom questioning the fairness of her defeat. Their unhealthy animosity was so strong it still carried through to this day. And the Machados weren’t a bad family.

He’d had a thing for their daughter once, way back when he’d been in high school himself. Not that their parents would have let them come within ten feet of each other socially. His mom had totally flipped when she’d learned at parents’ night that Ryan and Evita had been assigned as lab partners in chem class their junior year. Well. That was the story Ryan told her afterward. The truth was that he and Evita had assigned themselves as lab partners, because the teacher had let the kids choose who they wanted to work with, and Evita had approached him first. He’d seen her around school and thought she was cute and outgoing. They’d even shared the same lunch table a few times with their respective groups. Just because their parents didn’t like one another, that didn’t mean that he and E

vita couldn’t get along. And they did get along—pretty great, as it turned out. But neither set of parents was too keen on the idea.

Her folks even tried to get their teacher to have them “reassigned” to different lab partners during parents’ night. Mr. Amberly was cool though, and he held his ground, telling Mr. and Mrs. Machado that the semester was already under way and that no changes could be made. Evita and Ryan loved Mr. Amberly. He had them do free-writing exercises to clear their minds during the first ten minutes of class, saying it paid to think creatively in science. He wasn’t that much older than any of his students, being a newly minted teacher out of college himself.

Ryan could still see Evita’s wide, dark eyes when she shared the news about her parents’ reaction the next day during class. They had a substitute, who was boring them all senseless. Which made Evita more inclined to misbehave. Nobody ever acted up around Mr. Amberly.

“You should have heard my mom.” She leaned toward Ryan, her long hair cascading over her shoulder. “She forbade me from being friends with you.”

His eyebrows rose at the term. “Forbade?”

“I know, right?” She imitated her mom’s light Spanish accent. Evita’s mom had mostly grown up here, but she’d lived in Puerto Rico as a kid, until her parents moved their family. Evita’s dad’s family was still in Puerto Rico. He’d come to college in Massachusetts and stayed. “Evita Machado.” She mimicked her mom in hushed tones. “I forbid you from seeing that boy.”

Ryan laughed. “Does she think we come to class blindfolded?”

“Who’s talking?” Mr. Pinkerton turned from making notes on the whiteboard, his intense gray eyebrows knitted together. A few students shook their heads, but most of them shrugged.

Evita’s deep dimples settled as she grinned at their substitute teacher, the picture of innocence. Yeah, right. She was such a little troublemaker. That was part of what made her so much fun. They were at their table in the back, which was convenient for passing notes without being detected. Not that Mr. Amberly really cared, as long as they got their work done. He was basically pretty awesome in every way.

Mr. Pinkerton droned on in humorless tones. “Marie Curie,” he said, writing her name on the whiteboard with a green marker. “Was key among women scientists because those are so rare.”

“You mean, were rare,” Evita called out. “Back in the day.”

Mr. Pinkerton lowered his tortoise-shell glasses. “I believe you’ll find those statistics still hold.”

Evita blinked. “Are you saying women aren’t as scientifically minded as men?”

Pinkerton straightened his yellow bowtie. “You can follow the data, Miss—”

“Ms. Machado.”

His lips twisted wryly. “From Einstein to Galileo. Think Darwin! Newton! The vast majority of all the great scientists have been male.”

“Yes, but!” Evita contested. “There are more women than men enrolled in colleges these days—”

Mr. Pinkerton capped his marker. “Not in the hard sciences, I believe.”

Evita leaned forward. “How do you know? Have you followed the data?”

“She’s right!” Jax squared their shoulders in the second row. “You’re genderizing!”

Pinkerton scratched his head. “Gender what?”

A low murmur circulated around the room along with muted chuckles.

Layla Petroski sat up ahead of them. She leaned over and whispered to the girl beside her, Emily Rivers. “Why are we talking about this here?”

Emily whispered back. “Amberly probably left no sub plans, so this guy’s winging it.”

Pinkerton glared at the back of the room. “You’re being very impertinent, Miss Machado. I’d encourage you to watch your step.”

He turned toward the whiteboard, and Evita fumed. Ryan laid a hand on her arm. She had a right to be ticked. Pinkerton was being a pig. Ryan just hoped Evita wouldn’t say anything else. This sub really wasn’t worth getting into trouble over. He’d be gone tomorrow. Ryan cut Evita a side-eye, seeing her dander was definitely up. She was so fierce and brainy, with a sharp tongue and a quick wit. He was glad she was on his side.

He’d always take her side, no matter what.

“Einstein, as you know…” Pinkerton said, starting to write again. “…developed the Theory of Relativity…”

Evita’s jaw tensed. The twitching muscle in her cheek said she was holding back a scream, and Evita had a loud one. She spread her hands out on their table, quietly grating out the words. “Pinkerton’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can diss women here.” The lines surrounding her frown deepened, as she glanced at Jax. “Or anyone really, of any identity.” Ryan saw her hand on the beaker, guessing what was coming next.

“Evita,” he urged. “Don’t—”

But it was too late to stop her. She pushed the glass structure off their table and it crashed to floor, startling Pinkerton, who instantly straightened his spine. Students spun on their stools, scanning the back of the room, and Layla winked at him, probably thinking he’d done it. Evita was always claiming Layla had a crush on him, but he didn’t buy it. Or maybe he did and didn’t care. The only girl he cared about in chem class was Evita.

Mr. Pinkerton removed his glasses, storming toward them in his rumpled plaid slacks and worn penny loafers. They actually had coins in them. “Who did this?” he demanded, staring down at the shattered glass on the floor.

Ryan shifted in his seat. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Pinkerton asked, like he doubted that. He shook his head and tsked. “Then clean it up.”

“Yes, sir.” Ryan hopped off his stool and Evita got up to help him.

“Not you, miss,” Pinkerton said, whirling around. “You’re coming with me.”

Evita crossed her arms, not budging. “Where?”

“I’m writing you a pass to go to the principal’s office.”

She gasped, her hand fluttering to her Notre Dame sweatshirt. Her oldest brother, Robby, went there, and he kept lobbying for Evita and her other brother, Chachi, to join him. Although Chachi, a senior, had pinned his hopes on Penn. Evita didn’t know where she wanted to go to college, but she thought it was sweet her brother cared. It was sweet. So was Evita deep on the inside, but she hid it well with her toughness. “Me?” she asked, incredulous. Man, she was good, but Pinke

rton was wise to her game.

Ryan held out his hand. “Look, Mr. Pinkerton. There’s been a mistake. Evita didn’t knock that beaker over, I did.” Evita’s eyebrows arched before she set them in straight lines, resuming her poker face.

“You don’t have to cover for her, son,” Pinkerton said.

“I’m not covering.” Ryan cleared his throat. “I hit it with my elbow.”

“With your elbow? Right.” Pinkerton clucked his tongue and studied them both. “If that’s how you want to play it,” he said, “fine.” He motioned Ryan along, leading him toward Amberly’s desk. Ryan received a stern lecture from the principal about respecting substitute teachers after that, and a short stint in detention, but he hadn’t minded one bit.

He’d have done anything for Evita.

“Ryan,” his mom said, traipsing through the dining area of the fancy Nantucket cottage. “You’re lagging behind.”

“Right.” He picked up his pace, shaking off all thoughts of Pinkerton. Memories of Evita clung to him though. He hadn’t thought much about her until lately, when his mom had started making such a big deal out of besting Evita’s mom in winning this place. He couldn’t help but wonder about Evita’s life now. He didn’t know much, and the details were sketchy. One of his friends said she’d opened her own flower shop in Lexington. Good for her. She’d been big into plants in high school, especially their senior year.

He trailed his parents into one ground-floor suite and then the other, before they all went upstairs. Maddy was busy settling into her space by strewing her clothing and hair products everywhere. It was cool how the downstairs suites ran the width of the house, providing them with seaside ocean views and a scenic landscape out front.

The two upstairs suites were smaller, owing to their attached ocean-front balconies. They also had their own bathrooms and sitting areas overlooking the drive, which could be separated from the bedrooms by pocket doors.

His parents picked the suite closest to the kitchen, and he deposited his stuff in the one near the dining room. It had double doors leading directly to the deck. He stepped through them, absorbing the warm ocean breeze. His jaw muscles relaxed, tension seeping from his body. It would be okay. He’d weather this. It was only a week with his parents and Maddy.

The views were great, and the house was large. They’d have all kinds of room to spread out from each other. It wasn’t like they were crammed together like they’d been in the stateroom of that cruise ship back when he’d been thirteen and Maddy a newborn. That had been a nightmare. But not this. The ocean crashed and roared, sending curtains of foam raining down onto the beach, and gulls combed through an azure sky. It was beautiful here. How bad could things get?

His parents walked onto the deck from their room at exactly the same time. “One whole week of glorious serenity,” his mom chirped. “Just us four Hatfields together. Enjoying each other’s company.” Her blue eyes lit up. “I think this calls for a martini.”

A drink did sound good. Maybe he’d have a double.

Maddy leaned over one of the balconies upstairs and hollered, “I want one!”

“No-ooo,” his mom rep

lied in lilting tones.

“I’ll fix her a Shirley Temple,” his dad said.

“I’m. Not. A kid!” Maddy groaned from above.

“Let’s grab the rest of our things from the SUV,” his dad suggested. “I’ll tend bar after we set up the kitchen.”

“Maddy!” Ryan called as he walked back through the great room. “Come help!”

She scampered down the spiral staircase closest to her room, finally seeming excited. Maybe the enormous flat-screen TV in her room had helped her mood. Along with the fact that she had a whole floor to herself. “Guys!” Her face was flush with wonder. “I saw a whale!”

“What?” her dad asked. “How?”

She waved the pair of binoculars in her hand. “These were in my room on the dresser.”

Their mom took away the binoculars, setting them on a side table. “It was probably just a dolphin, hon.”

Maddy’s cheerful expression waned. “No. It was a whale.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Their dad grinned. “A sighting on our first day.”

“I’m sure you’ll see another one. Come and get me next time.” Ryan smiled in an attempt to be brotherly, but Mads just grumbled and stepped away. It was so hard to connect with her. At some point, she’d have to meet him halfway.

He’d been out of the house and off to college by the time she was five, but they’d seen each other plenty during vacations and over holidays. He frowned. Those gatherings hadn’t exactly proved stellar for relationship building, if he was being honest. Not with each member of his family always doing their own thing.

He looked up at the wall between the spiral staircases, the one below the loft. With the openness of the design and the ocean-facing windows, it was the only logical spot in the great room to mount a television. But it contained a large-framed painting instead. It had to be a copy or a print, but it was a stunning rendering of Monet’s Water Lilies.

“It’s interesting that there’s no common-area TV. You’d think they’d have a gigantic one out here. Given that this house has everything else.” He’d seen speakers for an expensive sound system that could be controlled through a phone app. His mom had told him there was an instruction manual in the house, and they were welcome to use it. So the owners weren’t tech Luddites by any stretch.

“Every room’s outfitted for TV here,” their dad said informatively. “Even this one.” He picked up a remote and clicked it on. Monet’s Water Lilies morphed into a gigantic television screen loaded with streaming apps.

Ryan blinked. “How did you know about that?”

“Guy at the office got one for his bedroom. Told me all about it.” His dad shrugged, seeming pleased to be in the know about something. “It was also in the house check-in information. I couldn’t wait to see one for myself.”

Their mom nodded happily. “No shortage of entertainment choices around here. Maybe we can all watch something together on PBS?”

Maddy blanched. “I’m good with the TV in my room, thanks.” The sun was partway down and evening starting to bloom, settling in with a purplish haze. “When can we go down to the beach?”

Their mom waved her hand with a flourish. “As soon as we have our welcome drinks.” 

Two

Baby Luisa wailed in her car seat, her face the color of a very ripe eggplant.

Her normal complexion was a sunny amber like her mom, Eunice’s.

Evita sat beside the baby in the third row of her parents’ Suburban, her heart pounding. The little bundle of “joy” looked positively volcanic. Like she could blow at any second.

“Um. Does she need a pacifier or something?”

“Won’t take them,” Eunice said over her shoulder.

Robby turned and his dark eyes met Evita’s. His shock of dark curls spilled off the top of his head, shorter on the sides and higher on top. He had a mustache like their dad, although their dad’s hair was straight and salt-and-pepper gray. “She’s wound up from the flight, I think. The altitude bothered her ears.”

“Right.” Evita’s ears were splitting now, but she couldn’t say so. “It’s okay, little Luisa.” She patted the baby’s foot and the child gurgled, then exploded in a rage, shaking her tiny fists and cramming one in her mouth. Very hard. Ow. That seemed to alarm her and make her cry louder. Okay. That didn’t look like fun. Poor baby.

Evita hoped Robby and Eunice’s room wouldn’t be near hers. She’d take pains to avoid it. She was looking forward to catching up on her sleep here, and relaxing. Not that she didn’t love her niece.

Robby must have nerves of steel to be able to work around a screaming baby. He did his screenwriting at home while Eunice’s job as a film editor kept her busy at a studio, so at least she had some professional distance from family life during her work day.

Evita’s mom was at the wheel, and her dad sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio dial. Audio speakers crackled and hissed, spitting out broken-up sound blips of music and official-sounding announcements. He was too polite to mention Luisa’s screaming so was likely trying to drown it out.

“Poor reception,” he said. “Maybe I should plug in my phone?” Her dad had a gazillion playlists on his smartphone, and subscribed to tons of music streaming services.

“No time.” Her mom glanced in the rearview mirror. “We’re almost there!”

The GPS said: “In 500 feet, take the next right.”

Thank goodness. She couldn’t wait to get out of this SUV.

Chachi and Kendra were directly behind them with their two kids. They’d met up in town after Robby and Eunice’s flight finally arrived from LA via Newark. Chachi and Kendra had driven directly to Hyannis from Brooklyn to catch the car ferry to Nantucket, like Evita and her parents had. She’d spent three boring hours waiting on the delayed flight with her folks at the airport while Chachi and Kendra had had fun in town with their kids.

They’d toured the Whaling Museum and had gotten lunch and then coffee, visiting the dock area and ogling the big yachts. Chachi had updated her and her parents with texts and photos, each one making Evita greener with envy. But she couldn’t abandon her parents when Robby’s plane was due in at any minute. Until its ETA changed again—and again. Cooling her heels at the miniscule airport was not her idea of a great start to a vacation. But these things happened. What could you do?

By the time they all met up in the historic district, everyone was travel-weary and cranky. So they decided on an early dinner in town rather than having to fuss with preparing something back at the cottage with them arriving so late.

Evita drew in a calming breath, soothing her jangled nerves.

It wasn’t Luisa’s fault she was unhappy. Being on the road was undoubtedly making it worse. She’d do better once she was freed from her car-seat prison.

Another ear-piercing cry. That jailbreak couldn’t come soon enough. How did new parents handle this? She questioned her mom’s sanity in having three. Must be some form of infanthood amnesia? You forget all the bad parts when they grow older and cute. Like Quique and Nanny.

No. Wait. Bad example.

Nanny had stomped on her foot instead of saying hello outside the restaurant. On purpose. Becau

se Evita hadn’t noticed she’d gotten her ears pierced. To be fair, Nanny was shorter than everyone else—with the exception of Luisa—so often overlooked in adult conversation. She’d been vying for Evita’s attention before she’d finally gotten it with that foot stomp. Immediately after, Quique had asked her for money, saying she’d forgotten his birthday. Which she had. It was in January.

“Oh cool, is that it?” Eunice gave a happy gasp. “Look at all those pretty roses!”

“What’s with the Lexus?” Robby asked.

Evita stared at the luxury SUV in the driveway. Her parents leaned forward to peer through the windshield too.

“Could be the cleaners?” her mom ventured. “Marylin said the house would get freshened up before our arrival.”

Marylin had been one of the two people running the silent auction. After she’d called to congratulate Evita’s mom on winning the week, she’d provided the particulars by email, including directions to the house and the entry code for the front-door keypad.

The owners were on a rustic camera safari in Kenya and well out of touch. They’d arranged everything about the house before their trip. All that had to happen was for the auctioning group to appoint their winner. Which they had in Lissette Machado.

Evita’s mom had glowed when she’d shared the good news with Evita over lunch. Evita was excited too. With everyone’s busy lives, it had been harder and harder to get the family together for more than brief visits over the holidays. A whole week at the beach was like a gift from the gods! Evita’s mom knew that none of her brood would turn down Nantucket.

Who would?

“Pretty fancy wheels for a cleaning crew,” her dad said. “Maybe it’s Sebastian’s ride?”

Evita’s stomach clenched. She’d had plenty of time to fill them in on the truth earlier, but everyone had been so absorbed talking about their travel woes while trying to corral the children, Sebastian hadn’t even come up. Nobody was expecting him until tomorrow anyway.

“Yeah.” Eunice spun in her seat, her chin-length black hair framing her roundish face. “Maybe he came early to surprise you?”

“Ah. I don’t think he could have gotten into the house.” All the way from Mexico City. Her skin burned hot. Okay. She had to tell them, and she would. Once they’d unpacked and settled in. With glasses of wine. Big glasses. Huge.

Hers would be the hugest.

“So, no. No,” she said. “I don’t think that’s Sebastian’s.”

“She’s right, Pablo,” her mom answered. “Sebastian’s not coming until after lunchtime tomorrow. Isn’t that right, Evita?” Evita held her breath.

“I’m sure it’s the cleaners like you said.”

“It’s pretty late for cleaners to be here, isn’t it?” Eunice chimed in.

Her mom strummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Hmm, yes. Maybe they got delayed.”

“It’s a day for delays.” Eunice sighed.

“Well, if it’s the cleaners,"

her dad said, “they must pay them very well out here.”

Robby shrugged. “It’s Nantucket.”

A strange sound filled the vehicle: silence. Except for tiny gurgling noises coming from the baby. Evita was scared to guess from which end. Although she didn’t smell anything.

“Looks like someone’s settled down,” her mom said, smiling.

“Should we wait on the cleaners to finish up?” Robby asked. “Or?”

Their dad popped open his door. “We should let them know we’re here and ask how much longer they’ll be. This is ridiculous. It’s after eight o’clock.”

“Yes.” Evita’s mom checked her watch. “They’ve got to be nearly done by now.”

Chachi’s SUV pulled up behind them and soon everyone was climbing out onto the sandy drive. Warm gusts of wind wrapped around them as seagulls dove through the sky. The views of the sea ahead of the house were outstanding. Evita sighed. “Some place.”

Eunice had her shoulders ladened down with canvas bags, a diaper bag and her purse, and her arms embraced a package of disposable diapers. Robby had his hands full too, grabbing their luggage and a suitcase of their mom’s.

“Evita?” Eunice asked with a weary smile. “Would you mind bringing Luisa?”

She glanced in the SUV at the infant who cooed sweetly. She’d just had a moment, that’s all. As people do. Even babies of course.

“Sure.” Evita reached for the car seat, unhitching its breastplate. She’d done plenty of babysitting as a teen and had looked after Quique and Nanny some when they’d been younger and slightly better behaved. Giving this precious bundle a lift into the cottage should be no problem at all. She’d return afterward to grab her things.

“Come to your Auntie Evita,” she said, gently lifting the kid out of the SUV and into the open air.

Luisa gurgled and grinned. How cute!

“Look everyone!” Evita lifted Luisa in her arms. “She’s smiling!”

The volcano erupted, spewing from the mouth.

A warm sludge hit Evita in the face running down the bridge of her nose.

And the smell. Ew.

Her stomach roiled.

But she instinctively held on to the baby, propping her against her shoulder.

“Evita!” Eunice called. “Oh no.” She dropped her things and hurried over with a burp cloth to wipe at Evita’s face. The goo was warm and sticky. Like rotten oatmeal but worse.

Her stomach roiled again, and Evita steeled herself. She could not retch.

One instance of projectile vomiting was enough.

Robby set down his load and reached for his daughter. “Here. Let me take her.”

Evita gratefully passed Luisa to him. “Sorry, sis.” He frowned. “You don’t want to see your face.” His lips twitched. “Or hair. Or clothes.”

“Very funny.” She tried to make light of it, but the experience was seriously gross. She ran a hand through her hair and her fingers came back covered in pasty barf. Oof. The side of her head where she wore a pretty daisy clip had taken a direct hit, along with her face.

How did babies do that? She thought that was only in horror flicks.

She couldn’t wait to get inside and shower. She wiped her fingers on the burp cloth. She’d have to toss it in the wash. Great. She hadn’t expected to do laundry on arrival. She glan

ced down at the snug green top and white shorts that hugged her curvy figure. Those were puke-splattered and would need washing too. So would her cute shoes.

Her dad owned a designer athletic footwear business and had custom made this pair just for her when she’d opened her shop. They were flat white sneakers with pretty rose buds on them. The buds had green stems and were now all coated in ick.

Chachi’s chubby cheeks hung in a frown. “Happens to the best of us, sis.” He sighed and turned up his palms. “Kids.” He was stocky like their dad but thicker around the middle.

The curly hair came from their mom, who’d not yet parted with her flat iron. Silky caramel-colored tresses graced her shoulders. She’d been at her office this morning and still wore her bright-yellow skirt with a scoop-necked blouse showcasing papayas, mangos, and pineapples. It matched her dangly fruit earrings and fun yellow sandals with heels.

Her deep golden tan came from a bottle.

“I want to see the beach!” Nanny said, dashing to the front door.

Quique raced past her, rudely pushing her aside. “Me first!”

“Kids!” Kendra called in embarrassed tones. One of the pins in her bun slipped loose, releasing a wisp of coarse, dark hair. “Stop!” Her warm brown cheeks deepened a hue, as she scurried after them, hauling grocery sacks, and wearing a T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. She probably needed running shoes to keep up with them.

“You’ll want to earn your stickers today!” Chachi urged. He grumbled something to himself about a reward-system failure, catching up with his wife.

Their pleas fell on deaf ears.

The kids were already pounding on the door and repeatedly punching the doorbell.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.

“Children!” Evita’s mom shrieked. “Por favor.” She set her hands on her hips, arms akimbo. “You’ll scare the cleaners.”

Evita’s head throbbed.

Her dad made his way to the porch and shot Quique and Nanny stern looks. “No manners, no ice cream after dinner, eh?” he said with lowered dark eyebrows.

Quique was the first to hang his short-shorn head. “Sorry, Tito.”

Nanny followed suit, looking adorable in her first set of earrings and braids. “Sorry.”

“Apologize to your grandmother too. She’s our host this week.”

“Sorry, Tita!” the kids crooned together.

Her mom folded her arms and smiled. “That’s better.”

Nanny slowly looked up and asked softly, “What kind of ice cream?” Her eyebrows arched adorably, and Evita’s heart warmed.

They weren’t so bad. Quique and Nanny. They were just kids. Evita and her brothers had caused their share of trouble too. Back in the day.

Their Tito tousled the tops of their heads. “You see?” He winked at Chachi. “Incentivos can work.”

Robby smirked, jostling L

uisa on his shoulder. “You mean bribes.”

Chachi shook his finger at his brother. “Just wait till she’s older.”

Evita’s mom read out the number sequence from her phone and her dad worked the keypad. The door lock slid open. “Ta-da!” He grinned at his grandkids. “Magic.”

They squealed and raced into the house.

“Don’t touch anything!” Kendra called, slogging after them with her grocery bags. She stared around the open interior and out the front windows. The sky had gone magenta and looming shadows cloaked the room. “Gorgeous.”

Robby nodded toward the right, while holding the baby. “Kitchen’s over there.”

Quique and Nanny raced around the sofas then their eyes lit on the stairs.

“Two sets!” Quique cried. “Cool!”

Nanny darted for the stairs closest to her. “This one’s mine.”

Kendra grimaced. “Careful on those!” But they’d already scampered to the top, crossed each other in the loft, and were racing each other back down dueling steps.

Evita’s mom found a light switch and flipped it on. Four lamps on either side of the two facing sofas illuminated. The lamps’ bases were brass and shaped like anchors, and each sofa was flanked by two comfy swivel armchairs creating two individual seating groups complete with a coffee table and end tables, or one very large group area when taken all together.

The color scheme was various shades of blue and white, with lots of throw pillows. The walls were all whitewashed. The vaulted ceiling too. Beachy-themed paintings and accent pieces throughout the space spoke to a professional interior decorator’s touch. The cottage was absolutely beautiful.

The kids raced up the stairs again and darted down a hall.

Evita’s mom pointed to a spot beside the French doors. The color drained from her face. “Look over there! What’s that?” A pair of men’s dress shoes sat on the polished oak floor, which was covered in places with simple but elegant rugs. Black socks were jammed inside the shoes. Her eyes widened as she stared around. “And that!” She jumped like she’d seen a snake. “Ay!” But it was just a red-and-blue striped necktie draped over the back of a dining room chair.

“And this?” Chachi picked up the empty soda can on a coffee table. He peeked into it, rattled it, then set it back down.

Evita’s dad opened doors in the foyer, scanning darkened rooms. He didn’t enter any of them though. “Oh!” he said shutting a door. “This one’s a closet.” He stared at his family. “Where are the cleaners?”

“Looks like they missed a few things.” Robby nodded at the dining room table and the four small plates with food remnants on them. Crackers and cheeses, pretzels, nuts. Someone had been enjoying snacks. And drinks! Judging by the three drained martini glasses.

Kendra set her grocery bags on the kitchen counter and displayed a martini shaker. “Looks like they had a party.”

Eunice gasped. “Maybe they’re squatters?”

“Squatters?” Evita clutched her barf rag, then grimaced. Where should she put this thing? She wasn’t sure. Robby noted her expression and took it from her, shoving it into a section of his diaper bag. He’d grabbed the multi-pocketed bag along with the baby after the upchuck incident in the drive. She supposed that’s where the dir

ty stuff went.

Robby nodded, agreeing with Eunice. “That happens sometimes in LA too. People find an empty house and take advantage. Move right in.”

“Very high-end squatters.” Their dad picked up a martini glass and studied it. He sniffed the dregs of the liquid inside. “Considering their taste in gin. This smells like Hendrick’s.”

Evita’s dad knew his liquor, that was true.

“Hmm, yeah.” Robby glanced toward the drive. “And the Lexus.”

Kendra lifted a bottle off the kitchen island. Evita’s dad was right. The label did say Hendrick’s. “Maybe the liquor was already here?”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Eunice said.

Evita’s mom frowned. “Me either.”

Evita’s pulse raced. What kind of people would undertake something so brazen? Just break into—and take over—a stranger’s cottage? Maybe they were dangerous?

“Ahhhh!” Shrieks came from upstairs.

Nanny and Quique!

The adults darted for the spiral staircases, nearly trampling over one another in their haste. Kendra reached the children first. They were in an upstairs bedroom over the kitchen.

“It’s a monster!” Quique shouted, pointing to the bed. His small chin trembled.

Nanny leapt at her mom’s legs, wrapping her arms around them. “With scary green eyes!”

Chachi flipped on the light and they saw what it was. A gel mask of some kind lay at the head of the queen-size bed. It had glowed iridescently, eerily catching the dim light. “Here is your monster,” he said, indicating the gel mask on the pillow with a sweep of his hand.

Nanny released her hold on Kendra’s legs. “That’s silly.”

“Yeah.” Quique snatched it up, pressing it over his eyes. “I’m Zorro! Or. Or. The Green Lantern!”

Evita’s dad took it away. “Let’s not go touching other people’s things, hijito.”

“Yeah.” Kendra pulled a face. “Might be germy.”

Evita’s mom placed a hand on her heart. “Look at this mess!”

Jeans and shorts were everywhere along with sparkly tops. Hair supplies. A bathing suit. A curling iron. Discarded flip-flops and sneakers. An open backpack on the floor revealed a laptop inside it.

Robby set his chin. “Definitely squatters.” Miraculously, Luisa had passed out on his shoulder and was sleeping like a lamb.

Their dad shook his head. “We’d better check the rest of the house to see what other damage they’ve done.”

“Wait.” Her mom looked petrified. “Do you think they’re still here?”

“The house feels empty,” her dad answered.

“Yeah,” Chachi said. “Creepily so.”

“But that Lexus is here,” Robby reminded them.

“Maybe they’re hiding?” Eunice whispered.

Chachi called out as they cautiously climbed down the stairs. “Hello?”

“We know that you’re here!” their dad yelled gruffly. “Show yourselves, please!”

Her mom touched his shoulder. “Pablo, wait. Maybe we should phone the police?”

“Not until we know what’s going on,” he said in low tones.

They reached the first floor, and Evita’s dad held them back with his arm.

“Nobody move! There’s someone outdoors.”