Stepbrother Untouchable (8 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Nate and I pass the next few weeks as though we're each
surrounded by an invisible force field. Whenever one of us enters a room, the
other is propelled out of it. We're only pushed into close proximity with each
other when we have a family dinner, though my mom has been pushing those on us
quite frequently in an effort to bond.

If she only knew.

Today, though, Nate's and my presence is required at the
same event: the Thornhill's annual Fourth of July party. It's in our very own
backyard, starting in the afternoon with a crab boil and extending through the
evening fireworks. Apparently we'll get a good view of the country club's
annual fireworks display just down the river.

My mom has absolutely insisted on buying me a new dress for
the occasion, and even came into the fitting room with me to make sure it fit
correctly. The shift dress is not exactly my style, but I've seen it on plenty
of girls at school. I'm just worried about spilling tartar sauce on the bright
white fabric. I pull on my new pair of gold wedges, and walk downstairs to see
if my mom needs any help.

I'm taken aback by the flurry of activity downstairs. As I
walk outside, I realize I've underestimated the scale of this party. When I
heard “crab boil,” I was picturing a few picnic tables with red and white
tablecloths, but this is clearly a classy affair. There are elegant round
tables set, with flowing linens and extravagant centerpieces on top of them.
The food is presented in silver trays, and garlands festoon the perimeter. I
spot my mom talking in hushed, urgent tones to one of the caterers, and head
over.

“Oh, Brynn, you look beautiful! That dress fits you so
well,” she gushes.

“Thanks…do you need any help?”

“Mmm, no. I think we're OK. The guests should begin arriving
in about ten minutes. Oh, go taste the Freedom Martini over at the bar and tell
me what you think. I'm worried it's a little too sweet.”

“The Freedom Martini?”

“The signature cocktail we created for this event,” the
caterer next to her chimes in with a chipper grin.

“Ah, of course,” I reply, heading for the bar. The bartender
serves me a pale pink drink and I take a sip. Not too sweet—it's delicious,
light and refreshing. Luckily the day isn't too hot, anyway. The temperature
has managed to stay below ninety degrees for the party.

I decide to go down to the river since I'd just feel in the
way while they’re setting up. I walk down to the lower lawn and down the steps.
As I reach the shore, I navigate the rocky sand cautiously in my heels. A
splash on the other side of the large boulder grabs my attention. I walk toward
it and peer around. Nate's standing there, skipping rocks with a smooth sidearm
motion. I pause, admiring his form, then decide it's best to just go back up to
the lawn before he notices me. He's made it clear he doesn't want to talk to
me.

I turn back and as I walk my heel catches on a rock. I gasp
as I slip sideways, and feel two strong hands catching me under my arms to hold
me up.

“Whoa, careful,” he says as he straightens me up.

“Thanks,” I reply as I turn to him and tuck my hair back
behind my ears. “You escaping from the commotion, too?”

“Yeah. I don't really enjoy these things.”

“Really? You're so…” I trail off.

“What?” he asks with a grin.

I groan. “Fine. I was going to say 'charming,' OK?”

“I knew it,” he replies jokingly. “Well, whatever charm you
might be noticing has been developed over many years of practice. My dad has
been dragging me to these kinds of events for years. I know the routine. Smile,
shake hands, tell the kinds of jokes that don't make anyone think too hard.”

“Sounds…horrible. But at least there's a lot of free food.”
He gives me a bemused glance. “Right. Sometimes I forget I don't have to worry
about that stuff anymore.”

“You were, um, not well-off before our parents—” he drops
his gaze.

“I'd say we were struggling. But it was just the way I grew
up. I never wanted for anything big, though we certainly frequented the
Goodwill racks often enough. But I don't want you to think…I mean, my mom, she
really cares for Pierce.”

“Relax—I don't think your mom's a gold digger. There have
always been some of those around, and I can practically smell them at this
point. I mean, maybe at first I was worried, but I'm not now.”

“Was your mom—” I begin, feeling brave.

“I don't like to talk about her,” he cuts me off, and chucks
another rock out onto the water. It hits the surface with a plopping sound and
sinks.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “How's your shoulder?”

“Hurts,” he replies shortly.

“I'll see you up there,” I say after a moment, since he's
clearly done with the conversation.

“Hey,” he calls after me as I climb the steps. “Jackson and
his parents are here. They're family friends. They're on the guest list every
year.”

“Got it, thanks,” I reply, before mounting the rest of the
steps. That was considerate of him, and it sounds like he was telling me that
he didn't invite Jackson himself.

As I walk across the lawn, I can see that the first guests
are beginning to arrive. I wonder if now that I'm Pierce's stepdaughter, I'm
going be expected to put on the same song-and-dance routine as Nate. Usually if
I have to go to a party, like my aunt's Christmas party, I'll hang out for a
while, and then disappear somewhere to read a book.

My fears are realized as my mom waves me over to where she
and Pierce are standing with two guests. I'm introduced to the couple, who turn
out to be higher-ups for the State Department, and my accomplishments are
trotted out while they murmur enthusiastically, though I have to wonder if
anyone could possibly be genuinely interested in such self-serving prattle. As
we talk, my mom breaks away to greet the guests that are now pouring in. I
listen politely as Pierce chats away, impressed with his wit and charm. Clearly
Nate gets it from his dad, even if he does insist that it's a learned skill.

I manage to slip away and head over to the buffet table.
Like any good Maryland girl, I absolutely love crabs. As I pile my plate high,
I feel a hand on the small of my back. I turn to see Jackson grinning at me.
With his open, friendly face, it's hard to keep in mind what Nate told me about
him, and what I experienced for myself.

“Hey, Brynn!” he says, brushing a kiss against my cheek.

“Jackson, good to see you,” I reply politely.

“You disappeared so fast the last time I saw you! I was
worried,” he replies.

“Sorry about that,” I respond, wondering if Nate gave him
any explanation.

“We ever going to go on that date?”

I'm saved by the sight of Allison walking out onto the deck.
“Could you excuse me for a moment? My best friend just got here and she doesn't
know anyone else,” I explain as I slip away. I wave at her as I approach, but
she's looking around nervously and doesn't register my presence.

“Allison!” I call out, just ten feet from her.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I didn't recognize you,” she says. I give
her a hug as I walk up. “This party is really fancy! And this house! I mean you
said it was big, but I didn't think it was
this
big.”

“I know,” I groan. “I'll give you a tour later if you have a
couple hours,” I add wryly. “Come get something to eat with me—I was just
filling up a plate. I'm so glad you're here. I don't really know anyone else,
and none of the interns have shown up yet.”

“The interns?” Allison asks as we head back over to the
buffet, where I pick up my abandoned plate.

“Yeah, Pierce invited all the interns from the office.”

“Oh, that was nice of him,” Allison comments, picking up her
own plate. “Wow, I think that guy's a senator…the one in the blue seersucker
jacket.”

I glance over. “From Georgia, yeah,” I confirm. “I think he
and Pierce served in Congress at the same time.” I start giggling and Allison
looks at me with a questioning smile. “Sorry, I just can't believe I'm talking
about
my
stepfather serving in congress.”

“This is your real life!” Allison says, laughing. “When do
you think it'll sink in?”

“No idea,” I reply as we head toward a couple empty seats at
one of the tables.

“Your mom looks really happy,” Allison observes as we sit. I
watch her for a moment, flitting between conversations, so beautiful and
animated.

“I think she is. And she's just really good at cocktail-type
conversation, too. Like Nate, though he says it doesn't come to him naturally.”

“Brynn…” Allison says, raising an eyebrow at me.

“No, I mean, I'm just, you know…” I reply, trailing off.
Definitely not the time to tell Allison that Nate and I kissed, though I don't
know if that time will ever come. I love Allison, but thinking in shades of
grey is not her strong suit.

“Thought you two could use some drinks.”

I look up to see Greg, the cute intern with the
strawberry-blonde hair, standing next to us, three martini glasses carefully
balanced between his long fingers.

“Greg, hi! I'm so glad you could make it.” I indicate the
chair next to us and help him place down the glasses so that they don't spill
their contents. “Greg, this is my friend Allison. We go to college together.”

“Nice to meet you,” Allison says.

“You too. Hope these drinks are OK with you. I forget what
the bartender called them…”

“Freedom Martinis,” I answer, rolling my eyes. “The name
sucks, but they’re really good.”

“So where are you from originally, Greg?” Allison asks.

“Raleigh, though I hope to move to DC after I graduate.”

I tune out slightly as Allison and Greg talk across me. I've
just seen Nate cross between groups of people, seeming to make conversation
effortlessly. I look around to see if there's a girl trailing him, but I don't
see one. This might be the first time I've seen him without a date at any kind
of gathering. The idea that it could be because of me comes to my mind, but I
quickly quash it. I can't let myself think like that. Nate doesn't want that
kind of relationship with me, probably even if I weren't his stepsister. I bet
his date just got a cold last-minute or something.

“Be right back,” Allison says. “I have to get a second
helping!”

My attention snaps back to Greg as she stands and leaves. He
scratches his cheek and clears his throat. I smile as a blush sneaks onto his
freckle-dotted skin.

“You look…um, that's a nice dress,” he finally says.

“Thanks.” I smile, careful not to linger on the subject,
“So, you think you'll want to work in politics after school ends?”

“Well, in government,” he says with a smile. “Though I'm
learning that one doesn't seem to exist without the other. I guess I need to
work on the whole…you know…” he waves his hand vaguely.

“Kissing babies thing?”

“Exactly,” he smiles. “So, ah, I was wondering…”

My attention drifts from him again as I see my mom and
Pierce talking urgently by the house. My mom covers her face with her hands and
Pierce turns back to the party, his frown turning into a smile as if by magic.

“I'm so sorry, Greg, could you excuse me? I think my mom
might need me.”

“Oh, sure,” he replies kindly as I rush toward the door into
the study.

My mind runs through the possible scenarios as I hurry
through the study and up the stairs. As I climb the second set of stairs up to
the master suite on the third floor, I decide it must be my father. The last
time I saw my mom look that upset, it was because my dad was back in town and
pressuring her for money.

I knock softly on the closed double door of their bedroom.
“Mom?” I whisper quietly as I let myself in. “What's wrong?” I gasp as I hurry
in. She's curled up on top of the bedspread, like a broken doll.

“It's Pierce,” she murmurs without moving. “His lawyer just
called him. A woman has come forward accusing him of sexual harassment. It'll
be on the news tomorrow.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Oh no,” I whisper, sitting next to her on the bed. “I'm so
sorry, Mom.”

“Is it…is it me?” she asks, turning her head as a tear drops
down her cheek.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Maybe it's me…maybe it's my fault. It's like I'm a curse.”

“No, Mom, no,” I whisper, leaning down and pulling her hair
out of her eyes. “This isn't happening because of you. I mean, when did this
even go on? The, you know, the…” I reply, unable to repeat those two ugly
words: sexual harassment.

“Several years ago,” she replies.

“Long before he ever met you,” I point out. “So, what? This
woman's going on TV?”

My mom nods. “One of those investigation shows is doing a
piece about sexual harassment in politics, and she's going to be interviewed.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, we'll have to batten down the hatches. We'll probably
have to stay in the house for a few days, though luckily tomorrow's Saturday
anyway.”

“No, that's not what I meant. I mean, if Pierce sexually
harassed a—”

“I don't want to think about it.”

“Mom, you have to,” I sigh. She's always been like the child
in our relationship. I'm tired of the dynamic, but I don't know how to break
the pattern without our entire relationship falling apart. “If Pierce did that,
then maybe you have to—”

“Don't say it. Pierce and I are staying together. That's not
a question. And even if he did do it, I’m sure it was a momentary weakness. It
was just something that happened a long time ago, and he's changed.”

I shrug, feeling helpless. “I want that to be true, Mom, I really
do. Not for his sake, but for yours. I did hear a rumor at work, though,” I say
hesitatingly.

“What do you mean? What kind of rumor?”

“That…Pierce has a certain reputation.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

I want to tell her that it's because she's so fragile, but
instead I just reply, “Because it was just a rumor that I heard from one
person. I had no way of knowing if it were true.”

“Well, until there's some evidence or something, I'm going
to believe Pierce. He said she was a woman at work who was denied a promotion
she wanted, and now she's starting a jewelry line, and thought she might as
well put her bitterness to good use and drum up some publicity.”

“I guess that could be it,” I say without conviction.

My mom nods. “I think I just want to be alone for a while.
Do you think you could go back to the party, and sort of act like the hostess
for me? You know, make sure everyone's having a good time and all that? Just
say I have a headache if anyone asks after me.”

“Um, alright,” I reply, not knowing what else to say.

“Thanks, honey,” my mom says, settling back onto the pillow.
I stand and head for the door. “I just can't believe it,” I hear her murmur as
I close the bedroom door behind me. I wish I didn't believe it either, but
there's a telltale knot in the pit of my stomach that's telling me I do.

I head back down to the party, taking the stairs slowly. I'd
rather be doing pretty much anything else right now than plastering a smile on
my face and pretending everything's fine. But I know my mom's right—it will
look odd if both of us disappear during the party. I reemerge out back and take
a deep breath as I cross back over to Greg and Allison.

“Sorry about that. My mom has a headache, I just wanted to
check on her,” I relay dutifully. Greg and Allison murmur sympathetically. I
finish the rest of my food quickly, and with only one ear on their
conversation, before standing up with my drink. I excuse myself and begin to
mingle, trying to circulate and play the part of the hostess like my mom asked.

I watch the fading light impatiently; willing the sun to set
as fast as possible so that this party can finally be over. The chipper event
organizer I met earlier appears quietly at my side as I force a laugh at a partygoer's
joke.

“Have you seen Mrs. Thornhill?”

It still throws me to hear my mom referred to like that.
“She's not feeling well. Can I help you with something?”

“Would you like the lanterns to be lit now, or should we
wait?”

I glance around at the dimming light. “Now would be fine,
thanks.” She hurries away and I spot Nate across the party, frowning at me. I
avert my gaze quickly. If his dad hasn't told him what's going on yet, I don't
want the task to fall on me. I see him making his way over, and excuse myself
from my current conversation to disappear into a large group of people around
the pool. Just another hour or so and the fireworks will be done, and everyone
will leave.

The caterers move throughout the party, lighting candles on
the tables and mini Chinese lanterns strung in the trees. I take a moment to
admire the scene: the beautiful white lights, the well-heeled crowd, the murmur
of easy conversation. My mom does know how to throw a good party. I grab
another drink as the twilight turns into night and people begin heading down to
the lower lawn to get a better view of the fireworks.

With a sudden
boom
, the display begins. There are a
few exclamations of excitement and some clapping as the crowd gathers to stare
downriver at the explosions of color. I'm making my way toward the rear of the
crowd when I feel a hand on the small of my back. I know before I even turn
around that it's Nate.

“What's going on?” he asks quietly, as I turn to face him.

“It's nothing. My mom just isn't feeling well,” I reply.

“You're pulling at your hair,” he points out, and I drop my
hand, feeling caught. The crowd cheers as an especially colorful firework goes
off above us.

“So?”

“I can read you like a book, Brynn,” he replies, leaning in.
I can feel his breath on my cheek and step back, feeling flustered.

“I just think it's something that your dad should tell you,”
I say, and turn back to the fireworks, but I feel his hand on my elbow.

“Would you just tell me? You and my dad are both acting
strangely, and now your mom disappears…I just want to know.”

“And here I thought I was covering well,” I say, stalling
for time.

“Maybe to other people, but not to me.” I stare at him for a
moment as his features are illuminated by the light of one of my favorite,
willow-shaped fireworks.

“There's a woman…she's going to go on the news tomorrow and
say that your dad sexually harassed her.”

“That's crazy,” he hisses at me.

“I'm just the messenger—you insisted I tell you—” I stammer,
taken aback by his tone.

“My dad, he's a great man. He's a pillar of the community—”

“A pillar of the community?”

“What? He is!”

“It's just, sometimes the way you talk about him…he's not
perfect, Nate.”

“You don't know anything about him. When my mom abandoned
us, he took care of me all by himself. He's always been there for me.”

“OK, I'm just—”

But Nate storms off back to the house. I stand in shock for
a moment. I knew that conversation wasn't going to be fun, but I didn't think
he'd turn on me like that, as though I were attacking Pierce, or something.

I turn back toward the crowd just as the finale begins and
the sky lights up. I glance at the people around me, their faces upturned,
their expressions joyous. Maybe it was silly of me to look forward to everyone
leaving. Because now I realize that tomorrow, it will be back to the four of us
alone in the house—and no buffer zone.

My eyes fall on Pierce and I realize he's staring at me. He
smiles quickly when he realizes that I'm looking at him, and leads the applause
as the last firework dies out.