ChapterEight
They spent the day in groups; the girls having their bachelorette party at the Whitby Island Resort and Spa being pampered and beautified with massages, waxing, and facials. The guys spent the day golfing and drinking beer on the links, of course. Delaney’s face still burned, and she walked gingerly down the stairs to the dining room. She didn’t miss waxing and the pain. Damn, waxing hurt, especially down south, and all she wanted to do was sit in the cool Gulf of Mexico to soothe the burn between her thighs. Whoever invented that form of medieval torture should be dipped in a full vat of wax and have it ripped from their body. Repeatedly.
The rest of the group had already gathered. The scene was one from many a junior high school dance—boys on one side of the table and girls on the other, all trying vainly to not look at each other, yet unable to resist darting glances. Anna drummed her fingernails on the white table, darting black looks at Wyatt, who seemed unconcerned as he sat across from her. Brigid was scribbling notes on a legal pad, probably still working on the legal case she swore she couldn’t take a break from. Grady stretched out across from Brigid, hands folded on his chest, eyes closed. Ethan was already there too, and he quirked an eyebrow at her, looking up and down, probably noting the careful way she walked.
He had gotten some sun that day on the golf course, and he looked comfortable, muscles loose and jaw relaxed in a smile as he laughed at something someone said. She took the remaining seat across from Ethan, maintaining the status quo of girls across from guys. But her attention was drawn to the object in the middle of the table. A garish red lamp that belonged in a whorehouse, not a French Countryside cottage, was perched in the center of the table. The gold tassels swayed gently under the fan’s movement of air, and the red velvet of the lampshade definitely had seen better days.
Caroline walked into the room, to the head of the table, and put several sheets of paper on the table in front of her. Matthew slowly followed with a solemn look.
“I thought you threw that monstrosity out years ago,” Anna said, lip curling in disgust.
“And throw away a piece of our history? Never.” Caroline’s eyes glinted with amusement. “We never got to finish our last game to decide who won the lamp.”
“Don’t you think we’re a little too old for games? Besides, no one is going to want that in their house now,” Delaney said.
“No one ever wanted it in their house. That was the whole point,” Brigid replied.
“True. But it comes with a monetary prize as well. We had already anted up our fall prize money that last year. I saved it all and added to it. The winners receive one thousand dollars and the loser gets the lamp.”
“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to throw that piece of shit away,” Anna grumbled.
“I think it would look lovely in your house, Anna,” Delaney replied.
Anna glared at her. “Maybe you should display it for your next Fine Home magazine spread. Oh wait, they don’t do apartments.”
Anger rose quickly, despite Delaney’s earlier vow to remain calm.
Wyatt was her knight in shining armor again. “Anna, it would be perfect on the set of your show, don’t you think?”
The conversation went downhill from there as voices rose and tempers flared. Matthew slammed his hand on the table, cutting everyone off mid-sentence. They all looked at him.
“You all agreed to be in the wedding. This is part of your duties.” Matthew scanned the table, resting a firm gaze on each person. Satisfied that everyone agreed, he nodded to Caroline.
“Yes, Dad.” Ethan grinned.
Mathew shot him the one-finger salute.
Caroline smiled with a forced expression. “Thank you. The grand prize is a thousand dollars and the decision of who gets the lamp. Now, in the past, the rule was you had to display the lamp in your house for the entire year. Back then, it was a source of pride. Now, well, we can all admit it’s a bit overdone. As this will be the last year for the Whitby fall challenge, you may dispose of the lamp as you see fit.”
She walked around the table, laying a piece of paper and an envelope at each woman’s place. “This event is a scavenger hunt. Each team has a list of items you need to get, along with an allotted budget. You must produce a receipt for everything on your list, except one thing, and you cannot go over your budget. Oh, and no cars. You have until ten tonight. Grady, I assigned you with Brigid. Any questions?”
“Why am I stuck with Grady?” Brigid asked.
“Because you’re in the wedding together and you need a partner.” Matthew spoke up. “Consider this event a way to get to know each other.”
“I think I know him well enough already,” she grumbled.
“Gee, thanks, darlin’. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” Grady drawled, the flash of hurt covered by the sarcastic words.
“Shut up, Grady,” Matthew said mildly.
Delaney scanned her list of items. She raised her hand. “Do we all have the same items?”
“No. I selected your items carefully, items or tasks that mean something to you or say something about you. You cannot use anything you brought with you, and you must prove the provenance of every item. You’re allowed one item that’s not paid for but must prove that you got it here on the island tonight. A picture or video will suffice as proof.”
Delaney squirmed in her seat. The competitive fire was simmering inside. She ducked her head but caught Ethan’s grin. He was gearing up for it, too. For the first time in a long time, Delaney felt alive, excited, and hopeful. Nothing like a good challenge to kick some ass.
“Wait. How are we going to figure out who wins? A point per item, right? But who was in the lead before?” Ethan asked.