Summer of Love - Carly Phillips
The Costas’ backyard was packed with people all circling the capuchin monkey, who was performing on a makeshift stage set up on the green grass. Though a party would always draw a crowd, these folks had been excited to see Spank, a monkey with a fondness for mooning anyone in sight. Zoe Costas stood with her twin sister, Ari, and watched the capuchin perform in honor of their foster sister Sam’s fourteenth birthday.
Sam missed the monkey since Spank had been forced to move out of the Costas family home after they discovered that owning a pet monkey violated the law. Since Sam had lost too many people and things in her young life, they still tried to maintain her strong bond with the animal, whom she loved dearly. Zoe kept in touch with the trainer who’d taken the monkey, and she made sure Spank was present on special occasions like today.
Zoe glanced at her foster sister and smiled. They were celebrating Sam’s first anniversary as part of the family, and Zoe was glad the teenager would get to experience a spirited celebration surrounded by people who cared about her. The young girl had come to Zoe’s parents through Quinn Donovan, Ari’s husband. They’d taken the young girl in, and now Zoe’s parents were on the road to adoption.
But Sam had been in foster care for six years, unwanted for too long and so distrustful she acted out and tested the family in every way possible. Only lately had she begun to trust and settle into the crazy Costas clan.
Someone in the audience whistled, and Spank dropped her pants, then the monkey smacked her bottom with both of her hands.
Ari groaned and covered her eyes.
Zoe chuckled. “You lived with Spank last year. I would have thought you were way past being mortified,” she said, unable to hold back a grin.
Ari shrugged. “What can I say? Spank always takes me by surprise.”
“That’s because you still expect everyone around you to be sane and calm.” Zoe waved a finger in front of her twin’s face. “It’s your shrink training,” she said.
“You say that like expecting normalcy is a crime.”
Zoe laughed. “Shame, shame, Ariana. You ought to know better than to expect the ordinary from anyone named Costas.”
“Frankly, accepting the family’s unique qualities has done wonders to help my own sanity.”
After a period of estrangement, they could finally talk and joke about Ari’s saner tendencies. Her twin had always been the straitlaced sister, the one who felt she didn’t fit into their eccentric family. As a result, she’d moved to Vermont, far from the Jersey Shore, and kept her distance from the Costas clan, Zoe included. But it was Zoe’s recent so-called disappearance that had brought Ari home to stay. Zoe welcomed the chance to renew the closeness they’d shared as young children.
Suddenly Ari nudged her sister in the ribs and pointed toward Spank, who was spitting into the crowd.
Zoe cringed. “Like I said, ordinary and the name Costas do not go hand in hand.”
“Would it do any good to remind you that Spank the monkey is not a relative?” Ari ran a hand through the long, black hair she’d grown back after trying a bob a few months back. Now the twins looked even more alike again, something Zoe loved since she felt it helped strengthen their bond.
“Look, Ari, the family may no longer perform their Atlantic City Boardwalk Addams Family Act, but Dad is still as bald as Uncle Fester, Mom still wiggles her hips like Morticia, and Aunt Dee swears that Great-Aunt Deliria was engaged to a chimp, which means Spank could very well be a long-lost relative.”
Ari sighed. “Spank’s a capuchin, not a chimp.”
“And your last name once was Costas. Nothing is as it seems,” Zoe said, laughing.
“She’s got a point,” their mother, Elena, said, joining her daughters just as Spank’s first act ended.
“Hi, Mom,” Ari said.
“Hi,” Zoe echoed.
“My beautiful girls.” Elena enveloped them in a hug, made more suffocating by the long, flowing sleeves of the kimonos she favored now that she’d packed away her Morticia Addams black dresses.
Zoe supposed the outfits had something to do with owning a spa and working as a licensed masseuse. But she wasn’t certain what that connection was any more than she knew why her mother had decided to wear her geisha-girl outfit to Sam’s birthday party. And darned if she’d ask. Nobody could stop Elena’s wacky ways and, in truth, nobody tried. In their small hometown of Ocean Isle, New Jersey, everyone