A Week at the Lake (20 page)

“I didn't realize that toe touching was a requirement,” Emma replied.

“Touché.” Serena conceded the point.

“You would have thought the poor man was a terrorist the way my ‘bodyguards' sprang to action and attempted to protect me,” Emma said drily.

“It's kind of hard to protect someone when you're floundering in the water,” Mackenzie said. “Emma's visitor likened us to the Three Stooges. It's a good thing he was an old friend and not a stalker.” Mackenzie smiled. “I'm just glad there's no video of it.”

“Is true. I have getting soft,” Nadia said sadly when she brought out a shawl, which she placed on Emma's shoulders. “Losing edge here in lap of luxury.”

Emma smiled as she remembered Jake Richards's visit. “I've known Jake since I started coming here as a toddler. His family's been here since the French and Indian War, I think. They were among the founding families of Bolton Landing and the club.”

“He was definitely cute, Em,” Mackenzie said. “In that ‘don't need to impress anybody, salt of the earth' way. Is he married?”

“He was. But I think I heard he'd gotten divorced.”

“Aha!” Serena said.

“Not aha!” Emma replied firmly. “Just an old family friend who stopped by to see how I'm doing. Believe me, he's not someone looking to get caught up in the whole Hollywood thing.”

She caught Serena's considering look and hoped to hell she wasn't blushing like Serena had. “It was nice to see an
old friend who asked after my health and invited us out on his boat. End of story.”

“Can we go?” Zoe asked.

“I not send you on boat without help,” Nadia said.

“Then I guess you can come and protect me from . . . overly aggressive mosquitoes?”

The air grew cooler and after a time they headed inside for the night. In the foyer, Mackenzie picked up a large envelope that had been lying on the table and handed it to her. “This came this afternoon.”

Emma yawned. “It doesn't say urgent anywhere on it, but you can go ahead and open it if you want.”

Mackenzie did. “It's a gift certificate,” she said, pulling out a single sheet of vellum paper and scanning it. “It's for a spa day at the Sagamore for all four of us.”

Emma was tired and not in the mood for Eve's games. “I'm not sure why she keeps flinging gifts at me. But I wish she'd stop.”

“There's no place where you have to sign that you'll be her BFF or formally forgive her,” Serena said. “And this gift is for all of us. My nails are in an embarrassing condition and my pores are the size of a small country. You are so not going to return this.”

“It's too late,” Emma said. “I can't be bought.”

“Me either,” Serena said. “But I think I can be rented.”

“Can we go?” Zoe looked at her mother. “The Sagamore is so awesome!”

Emma looked at her daughter and something teased at the back of her mind. She went still for a moment trying to focus enough to identify it. Just when she thought she had a piece of it, it fluttered out of reach. A flush of panic rose inside her, but she beat it back. “Okay,” she said reaching out a hand to caress her daughter's cheek. “A spa day it is!”

I
f I were any more relaxed I'd be asleep.” Serena sighed happily and took a sip from the glass of chardonnay.

“Me too,” Mackenzie agreed. “How about you, Em?”

They had spent the morning in the Sagamore's newly renovated salon and spa, being manicured, pedicured, exfoliated, massaged, buffed, and waxed. Now they sat at a prime table in the open-air restaurant that perched on the edge of the lake. The ends of the brightly patterned scarf Emma had tied over the duck fuzz that now covered her head fluttered in the breeze.

“I'm looking to sleep less not more,” Emma said. “But I have to say that hot stone massage pushed me right over the edge into fabulous.”

“I bet Nadia gives a mean deep tissue massage,” Mackenzie said.

“I think ‘mean' is the operative word. My tissues don't want anyone going that deep. Ever,” Serena said. “You should have seen her face when Emma insisted she take the day off.”

“She works hard,” Emma replied. “She deserves it.”

“I don't think relaxation is something former Soviet weight lifters with possible ties to the KGB know a lot about. Country invading? Dictator toppling? Yes. Downtime? Not so much.” Serena laughed.

“Well, I hope she's having as nice a day as we are,” Emma said. “I feel refreshed and restored. Just like the Sagamore.” She turned to consider the sprawling Victorian edifice that had burned and been rebuilt more than once.

“To getting better!” Serena raised her glass. Everyone joined in the toast.

“And to friends who . . .” Emma swallowed and readjusted the scarf on her head. “. . . friends who stepped up for me and Zoe in a way that I will never, ever, allow myself to forget. I really don't know how to thank you.”

They clinked and drank again, but even as her own eyes grew damp, Serena wanted to know why Emma had let go of them without explanation five years ago and why she'd invited them back to the lake as if she'd never discarded them. She glanced at Mackenzie's face and imagined she saw the same questions there. They'd been too worried, too focused on Emma's recovery and being there for Zoe, to ask the questions and demand the answers they would have if the accident had never happened.

“I'm guessing Adam is already begging you to come home,” Emma said.

“No. No begging.” Mackenzie drained her glass. “Adam's actually out in LA. Universal's interested in his latest screenplay and he's got his nose to the grindstone trying to get it ready.”

“Wow,” Zoe said. “That's so cool.”

Mackenzie nodded, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “It looks like this could be it.”

“How long has he been there?” Emma asked.

“We flew out the same day,” Mackenzie said. “He's been asking about you. You know, checking in to see how you're doing.”

“I'll have to thank him for managing without you for so long,” Emma said. “I know you both have things to get back to, but I hope you'll stay as long as you can. At least long enough to help celebrate Zoe's Sweet Sixteen. I did promise you a lake vacation, which up until now hasn't been particularly vacation-like.”

“Well, today's been stellar,” Serena said. “And I wouldn't
miss Zoe's big day. In the meantime since Eve's paying, who's up for something sweet?”

They finished their meal with a variety of decadent desserts that they ate off each other's plates. Feigned sneak attacks left them with crumbs in their laps and smiles on their faces.

Afterward they parked on Lake Shore Drive and strolled along the sidewalk window-shopping in Bolton Landing, ultimately following Emma into a small antiques store. Inside, the air was cool and slightly musty. Every available inch of floor and wall was covered with memorabilia, antique tools, boating or fishing gear.

Zoe took one look at the boy who came out to greet them, and went quiet. Serena didn't blame her. He was well over six feet with an athletic build, slightly shaggy blond hair, and friendly brown eyes. “Hi, Miss Michaels. Zoe. Good to see you. Dad said you were in town.”

Emma introduced Ryan Richards to Serena and Mackenzie.

“Aren't you about to start college?” Emma asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said politely. “I'll be a freshman in the fall.”

“Ryan comes from a long line of Harvard men,” Emma said.

“That's assuming they don't realize they made a mistake when he gets there.” An older, more polished version of the boy came out of the back room. “Jake Richards,” he said, shaking hands with Mackenzie and Serena, then hugging Zoe and Emma. His brown eyes crinkled in good humor.

“These motors are great,” Serena said, nodding toward several small boat motors displayed on wooden stands. “From the twenties?”

“Yep.” Jake placed a large, capable hand on the top of a motor. “Designers like them for restaurant décor, and collectors have started driving the prices up.”

“So you don't miss corporate law now that you're here year-round?” Emma asked.

“Nope.” Jake shrugged, leaned comfortably back against the counter. “I'm exactly as busy as I want to be. I talk to people who stop in. Help out at the historical society. Go to the club. Get out on the lake every chance I get.”

“And the winters?” Emma asked.

“I've come to love them. It's quiet and I've got a small warehouse where I work on things.”

“You should see the boat Dad restored,” Ryan said.

“You restored a whole boat?” Emma asked with interest.

“Oh, yeah. She's a beaut. A 1929 Chris Craft Cadet Triple Cockpit. I thought we'd take her out whenever you ladies are ready.”

“I'm ready,” Serena said.

“Me too,” Mackenzie added.

Zoe nodded, stealing a glance at Ryan from beneath her lashes.

“What do you say, Em?” Jake asked. His tone was casual, but his brown eyes were intent. It would be hard to say no to those eyes.

“I've got physical therapy tomorrow,” Emma said. “But if you have room for all of us plus one former weight lifting Russian nurse, we could make it the day after?”

“Sounds good,” Jake said. “Ryan and I will pick you up at your dock at ten. We'll get out on the lake, cruise around a bit, and maybe have a picnic out on one of the islands. Just like in the old days.”

Serena bit back a smile as identical blushes spread across Emma's and Zoe's cheeks.

T
hey were gathered in Emma's room that night making a show of tucking her into bed in Nadia's absence, when Mackenzie's phone rang.

“I really don't need anyone to tuck me in,” Emma protested, though her predinner nap had hardly put a dent in
her exhaustion. As she spoke, Mackenzie pulled the phone out of her pajama pocket. “I only let Nadia do it because I haven't been able to figure out how to stop her.”

“Where do you think she can be?” Mackenzie asked.

“I don't know, but she drove off on that scooter like a woman on a mission,” Serena said. “There isn't exactly a ton of nightlife in either Lake George Village or Bolton Landing. So I'm sure she'll be back soon.”

Mackenzie frowned down at her phone, and then answered it with a hesitant, “Hello?”

With a quick look at Emma, she stepped away from the bed. “Yes, yes, it's Mackenzie. . . . Fine, thank you. . . . Yes, it was great. Thank you so much for . . . everything. We had a lovely time. . . . Yes, I know Emma enjoyed it too. . . . She's in bed just now. I don't think . . .” Mackenzie's shoulders hunched. “Um, yes. . . . Yes. . . . Um, no. Really, it's not . . .”

She turned around with a sigh, and held her phone out to Emma. “Eve, um, wants to talk with you.”

“No. Tell her I'm asleep already. Tell her I . . .”

Mackenzie winced, mouthed an apology, and handed her the phone. Everyone else stopped what they were doing to listen.

“Emma?” Eve's voice sounded in Emma's ear, too close and too eager. “I . . . I just wanted to make sure you enjoyed the spa.”

Emma sighed. “Yes. Thank you. Everyone had a nice time.” She made to hand the phone back to Mackenzie but Eve was already talking.

“I've left a card on account at the spa. So anytime you want to go, don't hesitate. And I was thinking maybe you and Zoe would like to go to lunch one day. If I were to come up we could . . .”

Tired and irritated, Emma cut her off. “You're going to fly from California for lunch in ‘the
boonies
'?” She emphasized the term Eve had always applied to the lake house, Bolton
Landing, Lake George, and the entire 6.1 million acres that comprised the Adirondack Park.

“I'm not in California. I'm in New York,” Eve said tautly. “And I'd love to come up to take you and Zoe for lunch. Or . . . perhaps you and she could come down to celebrate her birthday with dinner and a show. Or maybe a shopping spree . . .” Eve named all the things she had done rarely with Emma and then only grudgingly.

“No.”

“No, what?” Eve asked in the too-reasonable manner she'd adopted.

“No, I don't want to go to lunch. No, I don't want you to come here,” Emma said. “No, don't keep calling and guilting people into putting me on the line with you.” Emma drew another breath, but she couldn't stop the words rushing from her lips. Not that she made any great effort to do so. “No, I don't want your credit card on account at the Sagamore or anywhere else. No more gifts. No more anything. No means no. Nothing. Nyet.”

“But . . .”

Emma disconnected the call and handed the phone back to Mackenzie.

They were all still staring at her.

“What's going on?” Serena asked.

“Eve is still in New York. She claims she wants to come up and have lunch or something.”

“Because?” Mackenzie asked.

“How the hell would I know?” Emma replied. “I've never understood anything she's done or more to the point didn't do. But I have no doubt she has some ulterior motive.”

Zoe had been watching the conversation as one might a tennis match. “Do you think maybe she just wants to try to make up for everything?”

“That would be nice, Zoe, but highly unlikely,” Emma said more quietly.

“I'm sorry for giving you the phone,” Mackenzie said. “It just felt wrong to have enjoyed her gift and then tell her to go screw herself.”

“It's not wrong,” Emma said, attempting to at least approximate calm even if she didn't feel it. “As soon as she sees a chink in anyone's armor she goes in for the kill. It's not wrong. It's self-preservation.”

I
n Emma's dreams that night Eve hovered above her like a dark cloud. Large and menacing she obliterated the light of a summer moon that was trying to shine down on some odd forest/closet combination whose floor appeared to be covered with what was either lush grass or really old green shag carpet.

The cloud glowered above the girl, who cowered on the forest/closet floor, imploring her to behave like a Michaels. But this time the cowering red-haired girl wasn't Emma. It was Zoe.