Lost Lake (8 page)

No. Never.

But without Eby, without this camp, all Lisette had left was Luc, and she did not want to accept that he was not enough, that he was sixteen and a ghost, neither of which knew much about living.

She turned on the small coffeemaker in the kitchen for herself and Eby, then got to work on the chive biscuits and fruit tarts, like the ones she remembered from a patisserie she used to go to as a child. They had loved her there, giving her sweets for free because she had been so beautiful. The child, Devin, would like them. It had been so long since there had been children here. It made Lisette happy. It made Eby even happier. Lisette knew that the only regret Eby had when it came to cutting ties with her family was that she never got to see her niece grow up. But then there was that summer George died, when her niece, Quinn, showed up, and Eby got to meet her great-niece Kate. Lisette thought that, finally, Eby would have children in her life like she had always wanted … but that had not worked out. Maybe now, the third time, the third generation, would be the charm.

Maybe the girls would make Eby want to stay. Or at least not go so far.

Lisette knew Eby wanted to go back to Europe. Eby and George had often talked about it. And when Eby dreamed of Paris, she always told Lisette in the morning. Lisette would always tense, hearing of it, but she said nothing. They were just dreams, after all. Lisette had no idea those dreams had meant so much to Eby. She had never suspected Eby would be willing to sacrifice Lost Lake for those dreams to come true.

Once everything was under way, Lisette turned on the large stainless-steel coffeemaker for the guests in the dining room and took the chairs off the tables, stopping at the window to look out. The mist from the lake was giving off its own odd light, as if it were alive.

Something caught her eye and she leaned forward, her forehead almost resting against the glass. Someone was jogging around the lawn in a hooded sweatshirt, shorts, and tennis shoes.

Despite her initial start at seeing anyone out on the lawn after a season of no guests, Lisette did not have to see his face to know who he was.

When had he arrived? Last night, probably. Eby had not told her.

She stepped back quickly and hurried to the kitchen and locked the door behind her. That was ridiculous. Why did she lock the door? It was not as if Jack would come in there. He was not that bold, that aggressive.

But, still, shy had its own form of aggression. She had no armor against slow, invasive feelings. They slipped straight to her as if through mouse holes. Jack had been working his way inside for years, as earnest and trusting as Luc had been.

She looked over at Luc, only to see him smile at her from the corner. He seemed to approve of this madness.

Lisette heard a shuffling sound and turned to see that Eby had entered the kitchen and was pouring herself a cup of coffee. She was wearing pink baggy pajamas, which only served to make her look taller and thinner.

“I take it Jack is out there,” Eby said.

Lisette rolled her eyes as she pushed herself away from the door, where she’d been leaning against it, as if barricading it. She went to take the pastry shells out of the oven.

“He arrived last night. I know I said I’d take you into town for more groceries today, but I have all this inventory to do. Inventory you won’t help me with. So Jack said he’d take you.”

Lisette set the pastry shells down and quickly wrote on her notepad,
It can wait.

“I don’t think so. Bulahdeen has decided to throw us a farewell party. You might want to help her, or we’ll end up with a lot of liquor and nothing to eat.”

Lisette narrowed her eyes at Eby, then she wrote,
I know what you are doing.

Eby read that and smiled. “Me?” she said, turning to go back upstairs with her cup of coffee. “All I’m doing is inventory.”

*   *   *

Kate heard a knock on the door and opened her eyes. She sat up quickly on the wrought-iron bed and looked around, getting her bearings, remembering where she was. She stumbled into the living room of the cabin. She saw that Devin’s bedroom door was still closed, and a sudden, irrational fear gripped her that Devin might not be there. But she opened her door and saw her sleeping on her back, her limbs spread out like points of a star. Her glasses were perched on her bedside table as if watching her, as if lonely for her.

Another knock at the front door. She went to it and unlocked it. Lisette was standing there in the morning light, holding a tray containing two plates covered with napkins, and a carafe of coffee.

The scent of something salty and doughy hit her, and Kate’s mouth began to water. “Lisette,” Kate said, surprised. “What is this?”

Lisette nodded to the inside of the cabin and Kate stepped back. Lisette walked in and set the tray on the scuffed round table near the kitchen corner. Kate watched her take the white napkins off the plates, revealing fruit tarts and biscuits and bacon.

She pulled a prewritten note and an envelope from her apron pocket.

The note read:
I have a favor to ask. Will you go today to the Fresh Mart in town and purchase some groceries for me? Eby was supposed to take me, but she said she has inventory to do. The money and list are in the envelope. Simply give it to the girl at the front desk. She will gather the things for me. There are more guests than I anticipated and Eby mentioned that Bulahdeen is planning a party. I will make a beautiful cake.

“Of course I’ll go,” Kate said. “I’ll be happy to.”

Lisette wrote on the notepad around her neck:
Thank you. The fruit tarts are for Devin. They look like bright little jewels. Like her.

“She’ll love them. Thank you.”

Lisette smiled and took the note from Kate, leaving her with the envelope. Then she walked out. Kate followed her and was about to close the door behind her, when she happened to look down to see a small curved bone on the top step of the stoop. Curious, she picked it up and held it up to the light. It was an old animal tooth of some sort, familiar in a way she didn’t immediately recognize.

She took it inside and set it on the table as she sat down. She ran her hands through her short hair, then rubbed her face and looked at the lovely food on old mismatched floral plates.

Kate picked up the carafe and poured some coffee into a cup. She added sugar and cream until it was the color of caramel. Her mom used to take her coffee like this.
So sweet it could kiss you,
she used to say. As crazy as her mother had been, there were times after Kate’s father died that she had seemed almost normal. When they could afford it, Kate and her mother would go to the movies, sneaking in candy and drinks so they didn’t have to buy the overpriced things at the concession stand. They would watch television together every Friday night, with trays of dinner on their laps. Sometimes, her mother would braid Kate’s hair on weeknights, then put her in a nightcap and let her sleep on one of her sateen pillowcases, so her braids would still be smooth in the morning for school.

Kate wished there had been more good times. Memories that would make going back easier.

She sat back and considered not returning to Atlanta. Of maybe hiding here forever. Silly daydreams. Of course it would never happen. Eby was selling the place. And Kate had to face the fact that the reason she’d agreed to live with her mother-in-law, Cricket—even though Matt wouldn’t have wanted it, even though Cricket’s idea of parenting didn’t jibe with her own—was because she was fundamentally scared. She had plenty of money now, from the sale of her house and Matt’s shop. She could do anything she wanted. She could move anywhere. But she’d never been on her own. She’d lived with her mother, then Matt. When Matt died, she’d discovered a void in her life she hadn’t known was there. She missed her mom, and she missed her dad, but it took losing Matt for her to finally see just how isolated she’d been, like running out of rope. Cricket had stepped in and had filled that part of her daily existence for the past year, but they were each poor substitutes for what the other really wanted. But it was better than nothing. If Kate messed up, if she forgot something, there was backup. What if she fell asleep again for a year? What if she couldn’t be the parent she needed to be for Devin? What if she couldn’t do it alone?

She reached for a biscuit. She didn’t want to think of that. For now, she and Devin would enjoy this place with its lackadaisical proprietor, its mute French cook, and guests with marriage charms and plans for a farewell party.

For now, they would enjoy their last best summer, which somehow felt like saying good-bye to a lot more than just the lake.

*   *   *

Jack Humphry sat alone in the dining room in the main house. The local newspaper was folded on the table in front of him. He’d read it through twice.

It was mid-morning now, and he could tell Lisette had begun to make lunch in the kitchen, something involving cinnamon. It was a calming scent, reminding him of mulled wine, baked apples, and winter nights.

He heard voices coming from outside, voices he didn’t recognize.

Curious, he walked to the window and looked out.

Bulahdeen was sitting at a picnic table, scribbling in a notebook. She’d mentioned something about a farewell party that morning at breakfast, a party that would include just the lake guests, which Jack thought was okay. Bulahdeen was a sweet woman. She’d been a college literature professor long ago. Jack thought anyone who read couldn’t be all bad. He had assumed that she would rather have her nose in a book than talk, but he’d been wrong. Sometimes she would walk up to him while he was sitting in the dining room and just talk and talk. Once he’d asked, “Don’t you want to read? There are hundreds of books in the sitting room.”

She had laughed and said, “I’ve read them all. I want to remember them the way they were. If I read them now, the endings will have changed.”

He didn’t understand that, but then English hadn’t been his favorite subject.

Selma was sitting at the picnic table behind Bulahdeen. She was giving herself a manicure. Jack stepped back a little, hoping she wouldn’t see him. He’d known Selma for thirty years, and he still couldn’t figure out whether or not she was serious with her flirtations. This seemed to amuse her. He always tried to avoid her. But that had been easier to do when there had been more men around.

They weren’t talking, so he didn’t know where the voices were coming from. Then he saw a tall young woman in a short floral sundress and flip-flops walking toward the house. There was a little girl with her, wearing a tutu and a pink bicycle helmet. She was talking loudly as she ran circles around the young woman. The little girl looked over at Bulahdeen and Selma, then asked her mother something. The young woman nodded, and the little girl ran over and sat by Bulahdeen.

It took Jack a moment to realize the young woman was still heading this way, that she was actually going to come into the house.

He ran back to his table and sat down.

Jack was not a social man.

Coming from an old family of dynamic Richmond southerners, he should have been. He had three older brothers—a lawyer, a television news anchor, and a horse breeder. He’d grown up overwhelmed by the noise of their booming voices. Sometimes, all Jack had wanted to do was cover his ears. He would slink around, looking for quiet corners. His parents had simply shaken their heads, figuring three confident sons were enough. Oh, he knew his parents had loved him fiercely, and even his brothers had had their share of bruises from defending him from kids who had made fun of him at school. But they hadn’t expected much of him. He hadn’t known what to expect of himself. He’d been an exceptional student, but when the time came for him to leave for college, he’d been paralyzed with indecision. He’d had no idea what to do with his life. He’d expressed this fear to his mother, who had kissed him on the cheek in his dorm room the first day of his freshman year and had said with a laugh, “Since you don’t like looking people in the eye, why not focus on their feet?”

So he became a podiatrist.

It was the honest truth, but he found that when he told people that story, most laughed. It was his go-to joke when he absolutely had to attend a party or function.

He first came to Lost Lake when an older doctor at his practice in Richmond asked him to join him and his wife on their summer vacation. He had obviously felt sorry for Jack, who had alienated the nurses and staff in those early years because he’d been so bad at personal interaction. He’d gotten better, but it had taken years. The old doctor soon retired and moved away, but every summer Jack kept coming back to Lost Lake. He liked the quiet here. He liked how removed it was. He liked that, after a while, the summer regulars got to know him and didn’t judge him for his shy nature and the way his eyes could never quite meet theirs. Most of all, he liked the quiet woman in the kitchen.

He had never known how silent a person could be. Lisette’s presence was a comfort, and he spent most of his time in the dining room, near the kitchen door, near
her.
Sometimes when she cooked, she would bring him out little samples of summer borscht or smoked salmon tea sandwiches. She would set the food on the table in front of him, smile, then go back to the kitchen. One time she even reached out and touched his hair, but that seemed to shock her, and she never did it again.

Being around her was unlike anything he’d ever known. Wherever he went, everyone talked. Even at the ballet—where he went specifically to have the comfort of people around but not have to hear them—there were still words, buzzing around in whispers. Lisette not only didn’t talk, she barely even made noise when she moved. Sometimes he wished the whole world was like Lisette. But it wasn’t. That was something his mother always made sure he knew. The world was not like him and was not going to change for him. The trick to getting through life, she’d told him, is not to resent it when it isn’t exactly how you think it should be.

When Eby had called him to cancel his reservation, to tell him she was selling Lost Lake, she had said to him, “But Lisette is still here and will be for the summer, in case there’s something you want to tell her.”