As she disappeared to the second floor, Tessa fell back in her chair and stared at the screen. Only this time she didn’t see the wavy words. She saw Crista’s face and a flicker of hope in her eyes. And she saw her dear father, who would probably be very proud of his daughter for that offer.
Even with him gone, she wanted to honor his memory.
June 6, 1990
We almost had fun last night. Almost. We built a bonfire on the beach and had everything to make s’mores, but someone melted…and it didn’t go on a graham cracker. Why does Crista have to ruin every good thing? I know she’s only seven and I feel sorry for her because she just doesn’t have a pal like all the rest of us do, but is that my fault?
Anyway, our parents went out with the Cavallaris and we were going to have so much fun on the beach at night, but Crista had a freak-out. When Mom called from the restaurant pay phone to check on us, Crista screamed so loud I thought Mom and Dad would send an ambulance. She told Mom we ignored her and she saw a monster in the water (can you believe that?) and Mom made me stay in the house with her. It ruined everything!
When she finally fell asleep (at the very END of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids), I went down on the beach and they were all laughing so hard. Tessa, Kate, and Eli and You Know Who. (Peter!) To be fair, the boys weren’t really paying much attention since they brought Game Boys down there, but I felt like Crista must feel all the time—kinda lonely. It made me think I should be nicer to her—but not so nice I miss the bonfires for crying out loud.
Anyway, Tessa got a little mini boombox for her birthday and of course she made a mix tape, so we danced to “our song” (“Walkin’ on Sunshine”—ooh yeah!) and I heard a song for the first time called “Nothing Compares 2 U.” I loved it so much! Someday I want to slow dance with Peter to that song.
Vivien
Vivien closed the notebook and dropped it on top of the others in the bright pink plastic box next to her bed, a sigh on her lips. She was always amused and amazed when she took a moment to read one of her diary entries from the summers they’d spent here as kids. She was glad the old Lisa Frank notebooks had survived the weather and years at the original beach house, and grateful that Eli had saved them when he demo’d the place.
She was still working her way through the second journal—too much of a steady diet of pink Flair pen wasn’t good for the soul. It was truly enlightening to realize that more than thirty years had passed since she’d written those words, and to be honest? Some things hadn’t changed.
Crista was the family disrupter, and Vivien still battled guilt for not being nicer to her little sister.
“Hey, you mind if I shower?” Lacey stepped out of the ensuite, still in her pajamas. She added a crooked smile. “Since somehow we’ve become roommates again.”
“Just for one night, Lace,” she said. “Crista will go back to Atlanta today and you can have that bedroom again.”
“It’s all right,” Lacey said. “I like bunking with you, Mom. I’m weirdly attached to you that way.”
“Like Crista and Maggie,” she mused under her breath.
Lacey frowned. “I don’t think their relationship is as healthy as ours. For one thing, has Aunt Crista ever disagreed with Grandma Maggie? God knows you and I have had different opinions.”
“I think there’s more disagreement with Crista and Maggie than we realize.” As she spoke, Vivien walked toward the wall of French doors that led out to a third-floor balcony and looked down at the beach.
The Gulf was so turquoise today it was almost green, and the sand literally as white as snow. Sun sparkled on the water all the way to the horizon, a vista that Vivien felt like she could stare at forever.
“Did Crista tell you that?” Lacey asked, coming over as if the view drew her closer, too. But Lacey’s gaze was locked on Vivien, with concern in eyes nearly as blue as the sky above them. “Are you okay, Mom?”
Vivien lifted a shoulder. “We got whacked by Hurricane Crista last night. It always gets me here.” She tapped her solar plexus. “A mix of anger and guilt. I was always the one stuck taking care of her if Mom wasn’t around. And I got furious. Then I would fold with guilt because she was the odd man out—all the time, not just those summers. It’s hard being that much younger than your siblings.”
“I guess,” Lacey said, looking past her toward the water. “I’m an only, so—oh.” She jutted her chin. “There she is.”
Vivien peered to the end of the brand-new boardwalk that ran as an elevated forty-foot walkway from their lower level, over the dunes, to the beach.
Crista sat by herself at the very end, looking out toward the water.
“Oh.” Vivien whimpered. “See? I can taste her sadness from here. And I love her. All her dramatics are just a way to get the attention she craved as a kid.”
Lacey lifted a dubious brow. “She’s married and has a daughter and is forty-three years old. She doesn’t need to stir up controversy to get attention.”
“She hasn’t for a long time, but…” Vivien sighed and listened to her heart. “I’m going to talk to her.” She gave Lacey a kiss on the cheek. “You shower and enjoy some privacy.”
Wondering what mood Crista would be in, Vivien stopped in the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee, fixing one to Crista’s exact preferences, and headed down the stairs to the lower level and the boardwalk.
The April sun warmed her arms, and a soft breeze lifted her hair as she made her way across the wooden planks. Crista sat unmoving on the top step to the sand.
Her posture, usually upright and impeccable, was slouched, her shoulders heavy with the weight of her thoughts.
Vivien knew few people as well as she knew Crista. Of course, her sister, younger by seven years, was not an enigma. She wore her emotions on display, constantly strived for perfection, and was driven by a deep and abiding loyalty to their mother.
