Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

“You drive me crazy, do you know that?”

“It’s a brother’s duty to drive his sister crazy.”

“Not this crazy.” Vanessa sighed. “On second thoughts, I take it back. I don’t think you should see her. You don’t make good decisions when you’re around her. She ripped your heart out, Seth, and then she used it as a football.”

“‘She’ has a name.”

“Felicity. Fliss—” Vanessa almost choked “—and you’re talking in your quiet voice, which I know means you’re mad at me—messes with your head, Seth, and she always did. She’s a—a minx.”

Minx? Only his sister would have come up with a word like that. Seth thought about Fliss, remembering the wicked gleam in her catlike eyes and the teasing curve of her mouth. Maybe minx suited her. Maybe he had a minx addiction.

Maybe he was in as much trouble as his sister thought he was.

“Are you done?”

“Don’t cut me off! I don’t want you to be hurt again, that’s all. I care about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

“Are you sure?” His sister’s voice was thickened. “You were the one who held it all together when Dad died. You were there for everyone. Our rock. You’ve got broad shoulders, Seth, but who do you lean on? If you don’t want to get back together with Naomi, you should find someone else. I don’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life.”

“We’re not populating Noah’s Ark, Vanessa. We don’t all have to be in twos.”

“I’m not going to mention it again. You’re old enough to make your own decisions, you’re right. Let’s talk about the house, instead. Mom wants to sell it.”

His gut twisted. “It’s too soon to make that decision.”

“I know you don’t want to sell it, but she can’t stand the thought of going back there.”

“She might feel differently in a while.”

“And she might not. Why does it matter to you, Seth? You’re building your own place near the water. Once that is finished, you won’t need Ocean View.”

He thought of the big house that had been part of his life for as long as he could remember. Maybe Vanessa was right. Maybe he was holding on to it for himself, not for his mother. “I’ll speak to a Realtor as soon as I have a chance. Get a valuation.”

“Good. I can leave that with you, then?”

“Yes.” He could almost hear her mentally ticking it off her list. Vanessa survived by lists. If something wasn’t on her list, it didn’t get done. He could imagine her, pencil in hand, ready to tick off find Seth a wife. She’d inherited her organizational tendencies from their mother, who was a warm and generous hostess. No one arriving at the Carlyle home would ever feel anything other than welcome. Summer at the Hamptons had been an endless round of entertaining both friends and family. No one would ever be fed the same thing twice. His mother had a file. People’s likes and dislikes, marriages, divorces, affairs—everything carefully recorded so that there were no awkward moments. And she had a team of people to help her.

Vanessa was the same, except she was more drill sergeant than congenial host.

“And you’ll think about the Fourth?”

“I don’t need to think. I know I’m working.”

“In that case I’ll visit you soon. We’ll have lunch. And, Seth—”

“What?”

“Whether you see her or not—whatever you do, don’t let her hurt you again.”

CHAPTER THREE

SHE RENTED A CONVERTIBLE, because if you were going to drive to the beach on a hot summer’s day, you might as well enjoy the ride. The insurance alone should have been enough to make a grown woman cry. Fortunately she’d never been much of a crier. Her business was going well. She was young, free and single. She intended to enjoy every minute of it. She was leaving her troubles—or should that be trouble in the singular?—behind in Manhattan.

Feeling pleased with herself, she took the Long Island Expressway out of the city and then hit Route 27. As usual it was clogged with traffic, cars idling bumper to bumper. She sat in it, inched forward, then stopped, inched forward again, working hard on her patience, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she stared moodily ahead of her. Too many people going nowhere. It was almost as bad as the traffic in Manhattan, except that she had more sense than to drive in Manhattan.

Calm, she thought. Breathe.