Cousins (Cousins #1)

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  I remember flashes of my one and only visit to Aunt Juliette's when I was very young. Now looking back, I realize that she must have been quite young herself at the time, and that she had just married a man who barely said three words to any of us while we were there. I didn't understand the dynamics at the time, but for some reason my father was agitated about the visit or maybe about us specifically staying in their home, and I remember him insisting that we sleep on the sofa bed in the living room instead of the guest room that she had all decked out for us. I teared up when I heard my parents arguing about it in the kitchen, but distinctly remember that my father won that battle; so the living room is where we slept.

  I remember being excited that I was going to be sleeping between my parents in the living room of such a big beautiful house. First of all I'd never slept in anyone's living room before, and secondly I was thrilled that we were in the “big city” having never left Penn-Washington before. But most importantly I was grateful that I wouldn't have to sleep anywhere near the boy with the mean eyes who also lived there. Roman.

  When we were first introduced, the dark-haired boy seemed to be as quiet as my new uncle, except for the fact that he stuck his tongue out at me while no one was looking. When I told my mother what he did, she laughed and said that all boys were like that. The next day she forced me to play with him in the backyard while the adults caught up over coffee.

  He was a couple of years older than me, so naturally he assumed the role of babysitter, when he was hardly qualified to watch any living thing as far as I was concerned. I was no baby and he certainly was not the boss of me. What I was though was sheltered, and I never saw his treachery coming.

  My aunt's house didn't have a huge backyard like we did back home, but there was a small patio area in the back with various potted flowers, and a large rectangular patch of grass with a small garden area. Roman explained that Aunt Juliette was planting a small garden of tomatoes, squash, and sunflowers and that he knew a secret to help me grow as well.

  "You'll grow as tall as a sunflower," he said. "I know because I helped my friend Peter grow last year. Now he beats everyone in basketball."

  I was quite petite when I was a child, so it didn't take a rocket scientist for anyone to figure out that I probably had a strong desire to grow. I could never see much on my tippy toes when we went out to parades or sporting events, because it seemed as if every human being on the planet was taller than me. I hated being short. So it didn't take much for Roman to convince me that if he planted me in the ground, watered me, and we waited, that I'd grow at least three inches by the end of the day.

  I believed him.

  I was six.

  After he handed me a miniature sized gardening shovel, we spent the next fifteen minutes digging the hole together as he told me stories about how he was going to be a professional athlete one day, and how he was going to buy his mom a big house and move in with her when he became rich like his dad. I didn't understand what he was talking about though. I thought my Aunt Juliette was his mother, but I was too excited about the prospect of growing in a day to ask him to explain.

  Once the hole was deep enough, Roman told me to jump down in it and he'd fill the hole back up with soil, add a little Miracle-Gro, water me, and wait. Ten minutes later I was buried to my neck in dirt, with the sun beating down on my wet and bushy head of hair with no Roman in sight. After an hour I figured I'd grown enough and wanted to get out, but I couldn't move my arms. He'd packed the dirt super tight. In fact it was almost two hours before my parents and my aunt started looking for us both, assuming that we'd both walked to the playground. When they finally found me, I was in the backyard sunburned, hysterical, and in tears. My father was cussing up a storm as he furiously dug me out.

  "I'm getting you out sweetie don't worry ... Where the hell is that little juvenile delinquent! Don't worry honey; daddy's going to get you out lickety split... This is exactly what I'm talking about Rose. Like father, like son! I'm going to kill that little bastard."

  We only stayed another day after that, although we were supposed to stay a week. Tensions were high between the adults, and I refused to speak to Roman for the rest of the visit. Not only did he leave me buried in the yard alone, but I definitely didn't grow. And that made me want to pull his eyelashes out one by one. The little liar.

  "Your home is amazing." I say to my aunt while still standing and holding onto my baggage.

  "Thank you sweetie. Gosh you've grown to be such a beauty Elizabeth."

  "Thanks." I blush.

  I think she may be attempting to move forward to give me a hug, but I'm not sure. I tensely grip the handles of my luggage as I wait to see what she's going to do. I've never been that big on gestures of affection, but I'm even more skittish since the incident. She notices my discomfort and stops her forward momentum.

  "Look at me. I'm a sweaty mess," she giggles in embarrassment. "Why don't you go put your things in your room. It's the first door on the left at the top of the stairs."

  Now I feel like crap.

  It's obvious that I've disappointed her by my reaction. I can't help but feel badly about it, because she is being so gracious by allowing me to stay here. I know she didn't sign up for housing a twenty-three-year old she barely knows, and if I know my mother, she probably had a strong hand in this.

  "Thanks Auntie. Oh, just out of curiosity, Roman doesn't still live here does he?"

  My aunt chuckles. "Still holding a grudge huh? Don't worry about Roman. He has his own place across town. He won't be bothering you. He's not the same mischievous kid he once was, and he only comes by when he has to get work done with Joseph. That's usually during the day. I'm assuming you'll be very busy."

  I nod in relief. "Yes, I will."

  Thank goodness. I haven't seen that loser in a zillion years, and I have no interest in seeing him again.

  You can learn a lot about a person by how they live. My aunt's house is immaculate but not sterile. It's evident that she takes pride in her home and enjoys decorating in warm colors all over the house, which makes me think that she is probably a kind and nurturing person. The first floor is bathed in butterscotch walls and chocolate-colored furniture, with deep red accent chairs and burnt orange pillows. My room is the color of chocolate chip cookie dough, with a sleigh bed and dresser that are both made of a rich brown mahogany wood, and a down comforter and sheets that are all hotel white.

  When I rub my hand across the comforter, I can tell that it's really expensive because of the apparent high thread count. In fact everything in my room looks like it belongs in the Ritz Carlton or The Four Seasons Hotel. On top of the dresser are only two things. One is a sphere-shaped crystal vase with an arrangement of fresh pink, blue and purple hydrangeas, and the other is a thick, silver framed 5x7 picture of a much younger Juliette holding a big round baby. A baby that looks very much like me. I pick the picture up and examine it closely.

  "This baby looks like me." I yell downstairs so that Juliette can hear me.

  "Yes. I know." She smiles as she suddenly appears at the doorway of my new bedroom. "You were about six months old there. I loved that age. You were just learning how to sit up on your own and you smiled a lot. So sweet."

  "Did you see me a lot when I was a baby?" I ask with surprise.

  "Yes," she says in a pained voice. "Before I married your uncle."

  "Where were we in this picture?" It doesn't look like her house or even this neighborhood.

  "I was visiting a farm in Bucks County about thirty minutes from your house. Some crazy friends of mine bought a farm out there after they got married. They wanted to raise sheep or something. Needless to say that didn't work out." She chuckles.

  "You took me to the farm by yourself?"

  "I wanted you to get some fresh air and give your parents a break."

  "Was I a difficult baby?" I remember my mom mentioning once or twice that I was colicky.

  "Not at all. They were new parents and a bit older. T
hey just needed some down time. I'm not sure if you know this, but your mother and I were really close once upon a time. She even did my hair and makeup for my prom."

  Really?

  "Well what happened between you and Dad?" It's the elephant in the room. I have to ask.

  I place the frame back down and start unpacking my things to keep busy, while she contemplates how much of the truth she is going to tell me.

  "Does he ever talk about me?"

  I notice a small quiver in her voice. I think this may be a bad topic choice for my first hour in my new home. Is she going to cry? Please no.

  "No not really, but to be fair, I never ask him about you."

  "Well it's nothing earth shattering. No big family secret. It's just something that happens in families all the time I guess. Your father and I were once very close. Much of that changed when I met your uncle."

  "Where is Uncle Joseph?" And what does he have to do with their rift I wonder.

  "He's working in his office where he always is."

  She quickly changes the subject. "So let's find you something to wear for tonight."

  "Tonight?"

  "The dinner I'm having for Joseph's birthday. You didn't forget did you?"

  Actually I did. "Oh I didn't know if that was definitely happening."

  "Yes it is. I hope that's not a problem."

  "Absolutely not." I try to sound convincing.

  "What do you like? Chicken, steak or fish?"

  "I'm flexible. Anything is fine."

  "I'm going to have all three entrees available then." Juliette whips out a cell phone the size of my head and swiftly types some sort of note to herself. Probably about the menu.

  "I didn't want to overwhelm you your first day here," she continues. "But I've been planning this dinner for months."

  "It's fine Auntie. Really. So what time is this party?" I ask with faux enthusiasm.

  "It starts at seven tonight at one of my favorite restaurants," she smiles. "Just a few family and friends."

  I pray that Roman won't be there. While I know it's been a hundred years, and we were just kids, my aunt is right. I've been known to hold a grudge. Plus I heard that the kid has only grown worse with age. I think he even did jail time. At least that's what I overheard my father saying.

  "What should I wear?"

  I'd always assumed that one of the issues between my aunt and my dad had something to do with money. My parents did well, but Juliette and my uncle are loaded, and I think my dad may have a problem with it. My father comes from a long line of Philadelphia lawyers, but he is the rebel in the family. Something about not selling out his soul to the establishment, blah, blah, blah.

  My father's grandfather, father, and two brothers are all lawyers. Even Aunt Juliette graduated Villanova with a law degree, although to my knowledge she has never used it. But my father ditched law school to become our township's sole courthouse bailiff, where he works everyday, never calls out sick, and gets an occasional thrill stopping local families from getting into fist fights. He loves it, but it isn't exactly what my grandparents consider a profession. To them it is just a mediocre job at best, and I'm sure their disapproval has never set well with my father. No child wants to disappoint their parents.

  I'm not exactly sure what Uncle Joseph does, I just know that he owns his own company and makes a shit load of money. So I'm thinking that maybe my dad and aunt were once close, and when she married my uncle, she for lack of a better term, "sold out." I don't know. Maybe dad just doesn't like him and there is no real reason. I never cared enough in the past to find out the whole story. It wasn't an issue. We never saw them, and I only spoke to Aunt Juliette at Christmas and on birthdays. Maybe I'll find out the real story now that I live here.

  "I don't own anything remotely fancy," I say hoping to get out of this family party. I'm exhausted and probably a little depressed.

  "Anything is fine Elizabeth. It's a private room. Just family."

  Crap to hell, I don't want to go to this. Preparing for this move to my aunt's house has thrown my work schedule completely off which is horrible when you're a starving entrepreneur. I've decided that my plan B is going to be an attempt at landing a pitch interview with an investment group that would change everything for me. Sloan briefly dated one of the money managers of the group and promised that she could get me fifteen minutes in front of them. In order to be ready though, I need to tweak the code to the app and build my database out further. It's important that I dot all my i's and cross my t's. I can't blow this pitch. I may never get an opportunity like it again. But what am I going to tell the woman who's opened her doors to me with no questions asked. That I don't want to go to my uncle's birthday dinner, because I'm an ungrateful brat?

  "I look forward to it Aunt Juliette."

  "Just call me Juliette sweetie. I'm not big on formalities."

  We both silently stare at each other for an awkward moment. I'm trying to figure us out, and I think that she may be doing the same. We just don't know each other well yet.

  "All righty then." My aunt breaks the momentary silence between us. "I'll let you get back to it. Can I fix you anything? A sandwich? Maybe a cocktail?"

  Do I seem like I need a drink? Probably. It's weird though, having your aunt fix you a drink. Even though I'm totally legal, I would never drink with my parents. I don't care if I'm fifty-years-old and they're eighty-five. Not going to happen.

  "I've got vino." She sing songs.

  Aww what the hell.

  "I guess I wouldn't mind a glass of red if you have it."

  Chapter Nine

  Elizabeth

  THE GLASS OF SHIRAZ I practically inhaled at the house did absolutely nothing to quash my nerves. The muscles in my neck and shoulders start to tense up the moment I step into the restaurant. The delectable scents of meat, garlic, and a hot grill are wafting through the air, making my stomach rumble, and I can hear raucous laughter coming from the back. I'm entering the private room of the upscale Albright Bar & Steakhouse. The place where twenty-five family members I've never met are celebrating my uncle's birthday.

  "Nervous?" My aunt asks while gently rubbing my back.

  "A little," I admit. Kind of wishing she would stop touching me. It's only making me more rattled.

  That and the fact that I'm completely underdressed like I feared I would be. It is crystal clear upon first glance that the people in this room have spent what my app made over the last two months on their outfits. I should have realized what I was dealing with when I took a first look at Juliette's outfit. She is wearing a cream-colored pair of Armani slacks and a cream boat-necked, silk shell both of which seem to skim the length of her body. Not too tight, not too baggy, and both make her look like a million bucks. Her hair is pulled back in an elegantly smooth ponytail, and she has expertly applied colors from a nude make up palette, which make her glow and her entire outfit look even more polished. Nude leather stilettos finish the ensemble.

  I on the other hand am wearing a pair of tight, white skinny jeans, my "dressy" white scoop neck t-shirt, and the only pair of nice wedge sandals I own. All from Target (pronounced Tarjay with an accent thank you very much). The whole outfit probably set me back about fifty bucks, and it's very basic, but it's also probably the most flattering outfit I own. You don't dress up much when you're on the computer all day and night and you’re broke. My wardrobe consists mostly of T-shirts and yoga pants.

  I've never really known what to do with my massive head of curly hair. I have repeatedly failed at mastering the art of blowing it out or flat ironing it properly. My mother told me the key to a perfect coif was to use the right products, but she offered very little information on what those right products might be for me. Typical of my mom. Direction without substance. So I pull it back in a semi-messy ponytail, like I do most days, and hope no one will think that I didn't at least try.

  When I enter the room with Juliette, I immediately hesitate because all eyes focus in my direction and the
y grow eerily quiet. I'm sure some of the silence is because Juliette has the distinct ability to command attention when she walks into a room, in addition to the fact that I'm the new girl in the family.

  "Everyone this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth this is everyone."

  I can hear the joy in my aunt's voice when she introduces me. She's genuinely happy that I'm here, and there's definitely something about her exuberance which saddens me, because I totally feel like I'm using her. I can see my mother's, "I told you so" face in my head right now. I should have reached out to my aunt way before I needed something from her. I've lived in this same city for over five years. Whatever her issues are with my father have nothing to do with me.

  A somewhat familiar looking, handsome older man, dressed in a crisp white shirt and metal gray suit steps forward. He has a head full of deep wavy dark hair, with a little salt and pepper at the temples that I can tell he must tame using a lot of product. His face is serious but his eyes are wildly expressive with lines that crinkle in the corners. He exudes pure confidence and dominance in the room without appearing arrogant. I deduce that this man must be Juliette's husband. The infamous Uncle Joseph.

  "Hi Elizabeth. I'm Joseph."

  The room is deadly silent now. I'm unsure of why. I feel like I'm in the middle of a Godfather movie.

  I smile awkwardly. "Happy Birthday Uncle Joseph."

  I extend my hand to shake his, but he moves forward bypassing my extended hand, and slowly embraces me. I can feel some tension in his body, but I'm not really clear why it's there. Maybe because this is sort of awkward for the both of us.