He stared at me like I’d told him I’d just adopted a ferret. “YouinvitedMrs. Mulroney to Hawaii?”
“I didn’t invite her, exactly. She invited herself. I just… didn’tuninviteher.”
“Matt… this is supposed to be a trip for us. For our future family.”
“Iknow.But it turns out, for better or worse, she’s part of that future family. She’s always been family.”
He exhaled through his nose, put the shirt down, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Fine. But she stays out of the meetings. And she’s not allowed to sneak those little whiskey bottles into her bra. Rashida does the inventory. She’ll know.”
I grinned excitedly. “I promise she won’t. Actually, I can’t make that promise at all. But I’ll give her a very stern warning not to do it. I can promise you that.”
Just then, the penthouse door opened.
We both turned and made our way downstairs.
Mrs. Mulroney came stumbling in like an overloaded porter, wrapped in a tropical caftan, wearing oversized sunglasses, and dragging two mismatched suitcases behind her like she was towing a herd of stubborn goats through a highland village.
“Right,” she said, planting her hands on her hips, somewhat exhausted. “I’ve packed sunscreen, aloe vera, backup aloe vera, antihistamines in case there’s far too much pollen in the air, and a swimsuit I haven’t worn since my synchronized swimming days. Esther Williams had nothing on me.”
Cal stood. “You packedtwosuitcases?”
I turned to him. “You’ve packed three.”
“That’s different. I have meetings to attend.”
“Sweet Jesus on a Pritikin diet,” chuckled Mrs. Mulroney. “If you’re worried about me overloading the jet, these suitcases are the least of your concerns.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means I’ve brought a few extras.”
Before either of us could process her words, Angusappeared in the doorway.
“Aloha!” he bellowed as he burst into the room, wearing a flamingo floatie around his waist and sunglasses shaped like pineapples, and holding a water pistol that he sprayed straight in my eyes. “I’m ready to book ’em, Danno!”
Right behind him came Mr. Banks, moving at a cautious shuffle on account of the flippers. A snorkel dangled from his face, a turtle floatie clung to his hips, and in his hand he held a large conch which he held up now. “Damn useful thing,” he said. “You can use it as a horn to summon your tribe… as a purse to hide gold coins… or as a telephone that plays soft ocean sounds to help put you to sleep.”
Cal made a sound that may have been a death rattle, before muttering, “There’s no way of avoiding this, is there?”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid not. It seems as inevitable as the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs.”
Cal sighed. “If only it were that painless.”
Mrs. Mulroney patted his shoulder. “Don’t panic, my dear. I’ve sorted out all the luggage logistics. Rashida’s arranging a van. She’s meeting us at the airport in half an hour.”
Cal rubbed his temples. “We haven’t even left the penthouse, and I already need a cocktail and a therapist.”
CHAPTER 13
To saythe private jet trip was chaotic would be like saying childbirth is “a little intense.” Technically accurate, wildly understated.
Somewhere over the Pacific, Mrs. Mulroney tried to open a bottle of prosecco with her teeth. Angus inflated a flamingo pool toy in the aisle and claimed it as his seat. Mr. Banks insisted we were being followed by sky pirates and made a distress call using his conch shell, which—to his dismay—doesnotconnect to the FAA. And Rashida, seated elegantly in the corner with noise-canceling headphones and a Kindle in a diamante case, looked like she was sorting through business emails but was probably planning all our funerals.
By the time we descended into Maui, I was gripping Cal’s hand and praying Mr. Banks didn’t try to open the door before touchdown.
The second we stepped off the jet, warm tropical air enveloped us like a friendly steam room that smelled of gardenia and sea salt.
A trio of lei-bearing greeters awaited us at the base of the steps, all smiles and sunshine and totally unfazed by the elderlyman in snorkel gear, a rainbow floatie, and a smoking cigar that none of us had seen him light. “I was saving it for the birth of the child, but I don’t believe in procrastination.”
