Free The Family Beach House by Holly Chamberlin

in first?” he asked. He stretched his arms over his head. “I’ve been driving all day.”
    â€œNo. This is important.”
    Craig dropped his arms. “Tilda, I’ve been on the road for—”
    â€œPlease, Craig, it will only take a minute or two.”
    He sighed. “Okay. What’s up?”
    Tilda shot a look over her shoulder, but no one had appeared from the house. “Look, Craig, I was thinking. How about you move in with me? In South Portland. You can have Jon’s room. He won’t mind switching to the den, and he’ll be moving away before long anyway, and there’s plenty of room in the garage for your van. You know the neighborhood, you know how to get around, and you can be in the Old Port in ten minutes, maybe fifteen. You like to go to Rí Rá when you’re in town, right? Doesn’t your old friend, the one from college, Jake somebody or other, tend bar there? And—”
    â€œTilda!” Craig put up his hands. “Please, just stop.”
    She stopped talking. She figured her brother needed a minute to take in her surprise offer. But Craig wasn’t entirely surprised at his sister’s offer. He knew she was afraid of growing old alone. He knew she was reluctant to meet another man and maybe start a relationship. He knew she saw him as her easy way out of a painful situation. He felt somewhat flattered by this. He also felt somewhat annoyed. It might not look like it but he had a life, too. He was fully aware that since Frank’s death his sister increasingly had been seeking his time and his presence. He knew she was lonely and he was more than willing to help around the house, especially with the chores Frank had once handled, but he also knew that she needed to stand on her own two feet.
    â€œThanks, Tilda,” he said, with what he hoped was a kind, at least a patient, smile. “Really. It’s a sweet offer. But you and me living together is just not a good idea. Trust me on this.”
    â€œBut why not?” she said. “It would be good for both of us. You could have a home base. I’m not saying I’d ask you never to travel and see your friends and—”
    Craig reached out and squeezed his sister’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tilda, really. Thanks for the offer. It’s very generous. Now, I’m sorry, but I really have to use the little boys’ room.”
    Craig hurried off into the house and Tilda stood at the foot of the stairs alone, angry, hurt, but in the end not really surprised at Craig’s rejection of her offer. She knew it had been a pathetic cry for help, an act of cowardice and need, rather than an act of real generosity. Still, he might have pretended to consider the offer! He needn’t have dismissed it so immediately! Tilda felt like a fool. She knew Craig was a kind person, and knew he would never mention their talk again. Still, she felt embarrassed.
    Slowly, she went inside.
    Â 
    â€œSmartinis!”
    Tilda, who had rapidly deemed her earlier embarrassment unnecessary, and who very much wanted to enjoy her younger brother’s company, was in the kitchen, as were Hannah, Susan, Adam, and Craig. Kat was taking a nap. Ruth had taken Cordelia and Cody into town with her to pick up more milk. The kids seemed to drink it by the gallon. Bill was in his room, reading.
    Craig held a martini shaker in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. “Who’s up for one of my specials?”
    Tilda smiled. All the locals knew, and some remembered, that around 1947 the actor J. Scott Smart had come to live—to preside, some would say—in Ogunquit. At five of an evening he would stand in his doorway and with a cry of “Smartinis!” beckon his friends to cocktail hour.
    â€œI’ll have one,” Hannah said. “With three olives, please. I need my veggies.”
    â€œMe, too, but just one olive. Aren’t olives a fruit? Tilda,