After lunch, I fly to a meeting in Los Angeles, then to meetings in Dallas, Atlanta, and finally New York. During the week, Ana sends me a couple of texts.

Ana:Nothing yet on this end, I hope your week is going well.

Ana:Still no tox screens and no smoking guns out on the trail, how’s your week going?

I flip past her messages, searching for texts I need to react to.

Friday, I fly to Michigan. It’s my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday and my mom is planning a big party. I pull my rental car up to the large, summer home on the beach of Lake Huron. It’s been in my dad’s family for three generations. It’s dark and all the lights are on in the house.

“I’m home,” I call out as I enter the house.

I’m met at the door by a band of roving rug rats.

“Brody’s here!” some adults yell from the kitchen.

With a couple of squealy little ones under each arm, I head to the big, country kitchen. A few more kids follow.

“You keep your kids up late!” I exclaim.

My older sister, Victoria, gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Hello to you, too.”

I place her son in her arms before setting my other niece down. As soon as I get rid of one, another nephew attaches himself to my leg. Then a niece grabs onto the other leg. With them attached to me, I slowly walk and make a roaring sound. My antics makes them giggle. I go to my grandmother.

“Abuela, congratulations.”

“You congratulate me for being old?”

“Abuela, I congratulate you for being able to handle all this noise.”

She waves me off. “I’m a lucky old woman. I’m surrounded by my family.”

By now my nephew is climbing up my leg.

“I’ve developed this terrible disease. Look at my legs, I’ve got these misshapen growths,” I call over to my mom. I start shaking my leg.

My nephew squeals and giggles. With both kids hanging on my legs, I walk across the kitchen toward my mom and lean down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“What am I going to do?” I ask.

My brother-in-law hands me a cold beer. “I have the same affliction every time I come home. I see it’s catching.”

“I normally don’t have this problem.”

“It’s about time you got married and had kids,” Abuela declares. Shit, I walked right into that one. “You’re thirty-four. You’ll wake up and be sixty with no wife and no family.”

“Are you dating anyone?” My younger sister, Camila, inquires.

I ignore both remarks. I was raised with four sisters, each of whom could talk anyone's ear off, and all of whom spend way too much time concerned with everyone else’s business. With sixty pounds of giggling kids hanging off me, I lift a leg toward my twin. “I think this one’s yours.”

“Did you notice how he ignored the last question?” Camila asks.

My twin, Bella, and I are complete opposites. As kids, she was always complaining that I got preferential treatment. Even so, we’ve always had each other’s back. I peel her son off my leg and throw him in the air barely missing the ceiling. He makes a loud screeching sound. Then I hand him to her.

“Dad,” I say as I head over to my old man. Only one kid is left hanging on my leg. Dad and I shake hands. I had followed in his footsteps: West Point, Rangers, serving in a war, and then retiring from the Army to work in business.

“Son.”

With my best military voice, I report, “Sir, it looks like there’s an enemy on board. Should we blow her off?”

“Uncle Brody, don’t blow me up!”

“Major, your enemy is about to surrender. I think we should throw her in the brig?” Dad winks at his granddaughter.

My niece releases my leg and runs screaming to my younger sister. “Mommy, Uncle Brody and Grandpa are going to throw a brig at me.”

As a kid, living in a house full of women, I looked forward to when Dad came home.

I remember following my dad around. Whenever he got in the car to leave the house, I’d jump in with him. “Us guys need to stick together,” I’d declare.

***

When I wake up the next morning, it takes me a couple of seconds to realize what year it is. Growing up, we spent every summer here. For a split second, I wonder if I’m late for lifeguard duty. I’m sleeping in what mom refers to as, “the single-guy room.” Since my nephews are still sleeping, I quietly throw on some clothes, grab my sneakers, and head downstairs remembering to skip the seventh and twelfth steps that creak. The house is dark and quiet when I take off for a run. The air is crisp and it smells like summer. I take the long route and I check out what has changed. It feels comforting to realize that very little has. By the time I get back, the house is awake with chatter and amazing aromas coming from the kitchen. My sisters are cooking breakfast as my grandmother instructs from her seat.

 “My daughter might have married a gringo, but my granddaughters know how to makechilaquiles the right way,” Abuela brags to my brothers-in-law.

My youngest sister, Sofia, looks me over. “You went for a run?”

I nod, as I head to the range to check out what’s cooking.

Mom slaps my arm. “Get your fingers out of the food. Take a shower. Breakfast won’t be ready for another fifteen minutes.”

“I wish you’d have told me you were going running. I’d have joined you.” Sofia pouts. She’s eight years younger than me, also a West Point alum. She injured her leg this past winter.

“Your leg is up for a long run?” I ask.

“How far did you go?”

“The long loop through town.”

“Tomorrow I’ll run with you.”

“The town hasn’t changed much,” Mom comments.

“The restaurant in town changed hands. They have a new sign,” Abuela points out.

“The neighbors built a new garage,” Camila contributes.

“Someone from out of state bought the Miller’s house,” Sofia adds.

“You’re from out of state,” Camila counters.

Sophia rolls her eyes. “That’s not the same thing. I grew up here. This house has been in our family since the 1920s.”

“The heater is from the 1920s,” my brother-in-law complains.

“Go up and shower,” Mom tells me. “Put your dirty clothes in the hamper and don’t leave your wet towel on the floor,” she adds as I head to the stairs.

Is itdéjà vu...knowing the strong sensation you’re currently experiencing is a direct repeat of one from your childhood? After a quick shower, I head back down to the kitchen. The buffet is set and everyone is in the process of grabbing a plate and filling it up. Breakfast at our home has always been boisterous. Anyone who thinks girls, now grown women, are quiet and mellow didn’t grow up with four sisters. After breakfast, my twin, Bella, and I automatically clear off the table and load the dishwasher—our chore growing up.

“I read about you inFortune, Bloomberg, andThe Wall Street Journal. It’s weird sitting in a doctor’s office and reading about your brother,” Bella comments.

“You didn’t hold the magazine up, point to my picture, and tell everyone, ‘That’s my brother,’ did you?”

“No, but Mom did.”

“Yeah, I found out about that little episode on Facebook.”

“You check Facebook?”

“When my inbox fills up with messages about what Mom did, I do.”

“Your company, this whole thing, is it real? You really run some hotshot, unicorn company?”

“We’re not selling unicorns,” I sarcastically respond. Still, I’m amazed at my success and dumbfounded at how fast we’ve grown. It also freaks me out a bit when my sister looks up to me this way.

“With all this success, are you seeing anyone?” My older sister, Veronica, breaks in to the conversation.

“With all your notoriety, you need to watch out for gold diggers,” Bella warns.

My sisters are always on my tail about having a girlfriend. Though the few they’ve met, they’ve hated. My mind flashes to Ana. Last weekend was good.We can go hiking again without getting too involved, right? With no desire to discuss Ana with my sisters, I avoid eye contact and wipe the counter.

“You don’t really know how good life can be until you have a good woman and some kids.” Dad’s deep voice resonates through the kitchen.

I turn around, surprised. I had no idea he was in the room.

“Turning sentimental on me, old man.”

“Brody, I know you work hard, but don’t let life pass you by. I was lucky to have two careers: one with the Army and the other with IBM. But your mother, and you kids, are my legacy. Fancy cars and big houses never made a man happy.”

***

After breakfast, I head outside in search of quiet, I wind up sitting on the picnic table with a perfect view of the beach. I pull out my phone and check my texts and e-mail. My youngest sister, Sofia, sits down and stares at me.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“You’re the main topic of conversation. Mom and Abuela don’t understand why you’re not yet married.”

“Are you gay?” Camila interrupts. I didn’t even hear her sneaking up.

“What? No, I’m not gay.”

Both sisters look at each other. I’m so glad I wasn’t there for that conversation.

“You never bring any women home.”

“You never talk about any women.”

“I’m not gay and I’m not talking about my personal life with either of you.”

“Do you talk about it with Bella?” Camila asks. She’s two years younger and has always had a chip on her shoulder. Since Bella and I were twins, she thought we locked her out. I scowl at them and focus back on my phone. This action works like magic at the office, but my sisters are not deterred.

“He’s straight,” Sofia comments.

“He deters all the women with his personality,” Camila replies.

“I bet he has a decent pool of women to choose from at the office.”

“You know how growly he is. I bet they all flee in the opposite direction.”

“No way. Now that he’s rich, I bet a ton of women would put up with him just to get their hands on some of his money, and to be close to his power and connections,” Bella adds.

“In high school, my friends all thought he was hot. Actually, his scowling and moodiness made him more attractive. They all thought he was deep, angsty, mysterious,” Camila confides.

“You know I’m sitting here. I can hear everything you're saying.”

“Oh when you get all grouchy, you’re still listening?” Sofia asks.

“Please don’t tell me you’re a total douchebag who sleeps with your employees, then ignores them the next day,” Camila comments.

“Do you remember Kayla Clark from high school?” Bella adds. Shit, is she really going to drag that up?

“I came out here for some peace and quiet,” I groan.

“Kayla Clark? No, I never got any of the good gossip. It sucks being so much younger than all of you,” Sofia complains.

“What are you all talking about? Did we figure out if Brody is gay?” Victoria asks, joining us.

“I’m out of here,” I get up and leave.

“Wimp,” Bella laughs.

“Tell me about Kayla Clark,” Sofia sings out.

***

For the rest of the morning, I find a quiet, hiding spot in the attic and focus on work. When I’m finished, I start down the stairs and hear Mom, Abuela, my aunts, and my sisters all in the kitchen cooking up a storm. From experience, I know if they see me I’ll get roped into doing some lame errand. Instead, I head to my room, change into my swimsuit, and sneak out the back door. One of my favorite places as a kid was an island a short swim from the lakeshore. It’s a short walk to the water’s edge and I make it without being detected.

“Brody,” Sofia calls out from behind me.

I turn and see her running down the hill from the house in her swimsuit.

“I’m joining you. If I hang out at the house, Mom will find some kind of chore for me to do.”

I give her one of my hard looks.

“I was a Plebe and a Firstie. I can dish it out and take it. Are you swimming to the island?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been there in ages.”

“First one on land wins,” she yells as she runs to the water.

I jump in after her. It’s obvious she’s been swimming—I have a hard time keeping up. She beats me to the island.

I get out of the water, exhausted.

“Having your sister kick your ass is good for your ego. I bet running that big, fancy company of yours...you probably have all those people kissing your ass all day long.”

“It’s not glamorous.”

“Bella says you no longer fly commercial. You have a private jet.”

“I use a private jet to save time and fit everything in. I use the time in the air to conduct meetings we don’t have the time for in the office.”

“Yeah, your life really sucks.”

“Not too many women with the skills I need.”

“You’re not looking hard enough. You need to make hiring and promoting women as well as minorities a priority.”

“So, this isn’t just a swim?”

“Hey, we can talk about your sex life.”

“We can talk about yours.”

“Truce. No work, no social life, which leaves—”

“How about we walk around the island? We can see if any forts are still standing. Afterward, we’ll swim back and go for ice cream.”

“Sounds like a plan. Anything to avoid Mom and cooking.”

***

I don’t know where Mom found a Mariachi band in Northern Michigan, but at dinner time the house is ablaze with family and friends. My great aunts, some of Abuela’s cousins along with my aunt and my uncle as well as their families are here. I flew them all in and rented a couple of house for everyone to stay in. This way the whole family could celebrate Abuela’s ninetieth birthday. I probably could have saved money by flying everyone down to Mexico for the weekend. But this is what Mom and Abuela wanted.

The party is fun. Mom and the aunts make all the family’s favorite Mexican dishes. I’m kicking back and enjoying the evening when my aunt and Abuela corner me with my cousin’s friend in tow.

“Brody, have you met Elizabeth’s friend, Gabby?”

Anticipating an escape, my aunt takes a hold of my arm. “Gabby lives in San Francisco. That’s very close to you.”

“Gabby comes from a very nice family,” Abuela adds.

“Well, nice to meet you,” I politely say as an exit line. Unfortunately, my aunt still has my arm in a vice grip. That’s when Gabby moves close to me and smiles broadly. I look around for an excuse to leave. Unfortunately, my eyes land on my mom and sister who are smiling encouragingly. If I brush Gabby off now, I’ll never hear the end of it. Hopefully they’ll all lose interest if I just give Gabby five minutes of my time.

“What are you doing in San Francisco?” I ask.

“I’m an event planner,” she explains with excitement. She then takes off on a five-minute-long dissertation detailing a number of high-profile events. This seems to bore my aunt enough to let go of my arm and take off with Abuela.

As Gabby drones on, she shoves her boobs into my face, and shimmies next to me. Immediately my mind moves from thinking about work to thinking about hooking up with her.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Gabby asks.

I nod. As we head for the door, we pass Sofia, and she makes a face at me. Gabby grabs hold of my hand and leads us to the dark end of the wraparound porch. I’m about to let her hand go and walk back inside when my lizard brain and the beers take over. I rationalize to myself that If she’s willing to give it, someone’s got to be on the receiving end

Within seconds she’s all over me. I move so she’s against the wall of the house, grab her waist, and pull her tight. As our tongues and mouths collide, she raises her leg to my hip and starts rubbing herself against me an efficient turn-on. I’m starting to get really into it when someone turns on a light that blinds us.

“What’s going on out here?” Bella’s voice rings out.

It takes me a few deep breaths to get my head in a place where I can talk.

“Go away, I’m busy,” I declare while Gabby giggles into my shoulder.

Bella moves so she’s standing about three feet away with her hands on her hips.

“My kids could have come out here, or Abuela. You two need to break it up.”

All this mundane conversation makes my raging hard-on go down long enough for me to move Gabby away.

Gabby gives me a sexy wink. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

As I watch her walk away, I realize the moment is gone. There will be no “later” for us.

“I’m pretty confident Gabby’s just looking for a rich guy,” Bella says, imparting all her wisdom.

“It was a hook-up, Bella. Chill.”

***

Back in Silicon Valley on Monday, Elizabeth texts Gabby’s phone number to me. I have zero desire to call Gabby. Now that I’m home, my mind moves to Ana. She hasn’t texted me in the last few days. I wonder what’s up.

I head over to Ethan’s desk. Good thing he’s in.

“Can you arrange to get us up in a small plane this week?” I ask.

Immediately he stands at attention.

“I want to do some recon over the Santa Cruz Mountains,” I explain. “I’ll pay to rent the plane. Use the company scheduler, I’ll tell my secretary you’re a high priority.”

“Yes, sir.”

I’m surprised he didn’t salute as I walked off.