Free The Arrangement by Suzanne Forster Page B

ocean, and in the distance the horizon was as silvery bright as the setting sun.
    The terrace was beautiful, almost beyond Alison’s ability to describe. Billowing ferns and banana trees shaded the wrought-iron furniture and the ornamental arches. Fountains splashed from deep pools of mosaic tiles set in swirls of blue and green. But Alison had no idea whether she was supposed to remember it or whether it was part of her mother’s massive renovation.
    Only Rebecca was there to greet them, and she seemed flustered as she rushed over. “Julia’s running a little late,” she explained. “Can I get you a pisco sour? We’re having Peruvian food tonight, and the sours are luscious. They’re made with grape brandy and lime juice.”
    “Make mine a virgin,” Andrew said.
    Rebecca looked surprised, but he didn’t explain.
    “Make mine a double,” Alison said, surprising her again.
    As Rebecca went over to the bar, she gestured toward a granite-topped sideboard laden with bowls of seviche, colorful salsas and platters of mussels and other seafood. “Help yourself.”
    Andrew waited, letting Alison go to the sideboard by herself. They hadn’t spoken two words since their face-off in the bathroom. Silence was the norm in their relationship. She’d even thought of it as a conspiracy of silence, but they rarely fought, and that had put a different edge on things. She had no idea what to expect, but she wasn’t backing down.
    She tried a chunk of braised grouper with some spicy salsa that brought tears to her eyes. Luckily, Rebecca returned quickly with a tray of drinks. She served Alison a foamy, pale yellow sour, and then gave Andrew his virgin. The sour tasted like limeade with a donkey’s kick.
    “How do you like the terrace?” she asked Alison.
    “Breathtaking.” Alison went to admire a graceful iron crane that was taller than she was. “This sculpture in particular. I wonder where my mother found it.”
    Rebecca hesitated. A nervous smile surfaced. “Oh, but that piece isn’t actually new. It’s been in the family for years, I believe. It may even be an heirloom.”
    Alison gasped. “Oh, of course. I must be conf—Everything’s so different.”
    Andrew wandered over and looked at the sculpture from another angle. “Why does it remind me of the iron piece in the foyer?” he said. “Does Julia collect Oriental cranes?”
    “Well, yes, she does.” Rebecca set down the tray of drinks and helped herself to one. “Her mother did, too, I believe.”
    Alison shook her head, embarrassed. “I should know these things. I still get confused.”
    Rebecca’s smile was gently reassuring. “Well, no wonder. It’s amazing you survived such a terrible accident.”
    Andrew broke in again, explaining that Alison suffered from a condition called transient amnesia. “But it could all come back to her in time,” he said. “We’re hopeful that it will.”
    “Ah, yes, how very convenient.”
    The sarcastic comment came from the terrace doors, where Bret Fairmont stood, looking flushed and disheveled. Alison didn’t know if it was a fashion statement or if he’d been in a scuffle, but he looked a mess. His hair was a blond rag mop, and his jacket was off-kilter.
    He squinted at her. “My God, look what the tide dragged in. Is it really my long-lost sister? Rebecca, get me a drink. Chop chop!”
    Look what the tide dragged in. It was a terrible joke. Delayed shock seemed to paralyze everyone there.
    Alison and Andrew said nothing. Bret leaned against the door frame, as if to steady himself. Finally, Rebecca moved, going to the bar to get his drink, which was the last thing he needed.
    “You must remember me,” Andrew said. He boldly walked over to shake Bret’s hand. “I’m the guy she married.”
    Bret glanced at Andrew’s hand, but didn’t take it.
    Andrew slapped Bret’s arm rather vigorously and continued to make conversation. “What did you mean by ‘how convenient’?”
    Bret’s eyes took on the