Chapter 27
Maggie
Kiera tugged her down, mortified but grinning.
Maggie laughed, dragging her bag across the tile. “What, no sign?”
Izzy jumped down and enveloped her in a hug. “You’re late.”
“I’m on time.”
“Which is basically late.”
Kiera hugged her next, warm and grounding. “We’re glad you’re here.”
“Better than Colette threatening to stage an intervention if I didn’t get out of town,” Maggie said and let herself be swept toward the parking lot.
The air outside was crisp and pine-tinged, carrying the faint sweetness of lake water. Maggie inhaled like she could bottle it.
Izzy tossed her suitcase into the SUV. “All right. Buckle up. Lake house awaits.”
“Wait,” Maggie said, climbing into the back seat. “Snacks?”
“Better,” Izzy said. “Pie.”
They stopped at a clapboard bakery with a crooked sign reading Grandma’s Secret Pies. The place smelled like butter and cinnamon heaven. Kiera carefully debated flavors like it was a test; Izzy just declared, “Cherry and apple, done.”
“Blueberry,” Kiera countered.
“Fine. Three. But we are not getting rhubarb. Rhubarb is a scam.”
Maggie raised her hand like she was swearing in at court. “I’ll eat anything you put in front of me.”
They left with three warm boxes, the car filling with the smell of sugar. Maggie leaned back and sighed. “Already the best trip I’ve ever taken.”
“You haven’t seen the house yet,” Izzy said. “It’s stunning. No surprise, given it’s Aunt Jade’s.”
“It’s beautiful,” Kiera confirmed, reaching across the console to take Izzy’s hand.
Maggie was happy for them. She really was.
The lake house looked like something out of a faded postcard — cedar siding, white trim, sagging porch, Walloon Lake glittering behind it like a sheet of glass.
Inside was chaos: Danica’s mom darting around with a tea towel, barking instructions while chopping herbs, her stepdad silently perfecting a charcuterie board like it was a NASA experiment. Cousins hauling in wine, people stringing lights, laughter and voices overlapping everywhere.
Danica herself appeared, flushed from errands with Gladys, her rescued pit bull, at her side. “You made it.” She hugged Maggie tight as Gladys leaned against Maggie’s legs, then lowered her voice. “I put you in the bunk room with Izzy and Kiera. Instant summer camp.”
“The what?”
“The bunk room,” Izzy said gleefully.
Kiera added, “I’m the counselor, Izzy’s the delinquent, and you’re the homesick kid writing letters.”
“Rude,” Maggie teased. “I definitely feel like I bring the best camp counselor energy.” She reached down to scratch Gladys’ ears.
“I’d hire you for my summer camp,” Pete said from somewhere behind her, picking her up in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Maggie looked around at all of her friends, people she’d known and loved for nearly half her life. “I’m so glad to be here, too.”
“No crying,” Danica shouted, seeing Maggie’s eyes start to tear up.
Dinner was a blur: charcuterie, grilled fish, pies in the center of the table like trophies. Too many conversations at once, glasses clinking, laughter rolling out across the deck.
Later, with bellies full and cheeks warm from wine, the five of them gathered at the fire pit in Adirondack chairs. They dragged blankets out from the house, settled in with another bottle of wine. The air had that sharp fall edge to it, smoke curling up into the stars.
Izzy sat sideways in Kiera’s lap, her head tucked against Kiera’s shoulder, their laughter low and easy. Pete and Danica leaned close, hands linked between their chairs, the flames catching in their faces. According to Pete, Gladys had put herself to bed hours ago.
Maggie curled deeper into her blanket, letting herself pretend. Pretend it was just another trip, Gwen back home with the kids, everything intact. Not this hollow ache, not the lonely bed, not the word divorce echoing in her chest.
Danica’s gaze flicked to her across the fire. “How are you, really?” she asked softly. “I mean — with everything.”
Maggie bristled, taking a drink directly from the wine bottle. “Oh no. Nope. We are not talking about that.”
“Mags—”
“Dan.” Maggie leveled her with a look, then softened. “This is your wedding weekend. We’re two days out. We are not making it about me.” She reached for her glass, swallowed hard. “You’re getting married. Let’s all be happy. What happened to your no-crying rule?”
Danica hesitated, then let it go, leaning back into Pete’s shoulder.
The fire cracked, sparks popping into the night. Somewhere down by the lake, a long, mournful honk carried over the water.
Everyone froze.
“What was that?” Maggie asked.
Pete shuddered visibly. “It’s the fucking swan from hell.”
Izzy snorted. “Maybe she just wants pie.”
“Don’t joke,” Pete muttered, pulling her blanket tighter. She pitched her voice lower. “It’s watching.”
Maggie laughed, then realized she was the only one laughing. She cleared her throat. “Okay, so I did have an idea about the tablescape…” she began.
The backyard wasn’t manicured, exactly, but it didn’t need to be.
The grass rolled right down to the lake’s edge, dappled with taller patches of native grasses and sections of clover.
The house itself loomed behind them, big windows catching the morning sun, cedar siding weathered to gray.
A tent company had rolled in just after breakfast, men in matching polos hauling poles and tarps across the lawn.
Maggie and Izzy were supposed to be “helping,” which in practice meant stringing lights along the dock pillars.
“Higher,” Izzy grunted, stretching on her toes.
Maggie leaned back from where she crouched, laughing. “Izzy, that’s not higher. That’s closer to average human reach. Want me to grab you a stool? Or maybe some stilts?”
Izzy shot her a glare, still trying to loop the cord around the weathered post. “Not all of us are giraffes, Maggie.”
“You say that like it’s an insult,” Maggie said, knotting her end of the light string with ease. “You’re just jealous I can reach the cereal on the top shelf without a ladder. Superior genes.”
“Superior ego,” Izzy teased.
The lake glittered behind them, the autumn air sharp but clear, a breeze rippling through the trees. Somewhere behind the house, Danica’s mom was scolding someone about folding napkins properly, her voice carrying across the yard.
Danica’s mom had always been a sweetheart, like an older version of Danica, and she’d always reminded Maggie of her own mom.
When Maggie had brought up that fact to her therapist, Lauren had nodded and said, “Sometimes when someone reminds us of who we lost, it’s really just our way of noticing what we still need. ”
A noise interrupted her thoughts.
A long, trumpeting honk that sounded halfway between a bugle and a horror movie soundtrack.
The tent workers froze mid-pole. One of them muttered, “Oh god, not again.”
From the far side of the yard, the swan appeared — white feathers gleaming, wings flapping like sails, black eyes locked in with unnerving intensity. It barreled straight through the workers, scattering the group of grown men like bowling pins.
“Run!” one of them yelped, dropping a mallet as the swan hissed, actually hissed, like some kind of viper.
Izzy ducked behind the dock post. “Oh no.”
Maggie squinted. “That’s it? That’s the terror everyone’s been talking about? It’s just a goose with a nice suit and superiority complex.”
Izzy’s eyes widened. “Mags. Don’t—”
“No, seriously,” Maggie cut in, rolling up her sleeves. “Geese are terrifying, yes, but this thing? It just needs to know who’s boss. Look at it — acting like it owns the lawn.”
The swan honked again, louder, wings beating the air.
“See?” Maggie said, already stepping off the dock toward it. “I think it just responds to fear. I’ll just herd it back into the water, easy.”
Izzy warned, “Do not engage with the swan.”
But Maggie was already halfway across the grass, arms spread like she was wrangling a toddler. “Shoo! Back in the lake, your highness. This isn’t your runway.”
For a second, it worked. The swan hesitated, wings half folding. Maggie smirked. “See? Just a bird with a god complex.”
Then, the damn thing lowered its head, spread its wings, and charged.
Maggie’s smirk evaporated as six feet of furious feather and rage thundered at her. She tried to stand her ground — show no fear, it’s just poultry, it cannot hurt you — but the swan hissed like Satan’s kettle and snapped its beak an inch from her knee.
She yelped and stumbled backward.
The tent workers were already retreating to the far side of the lawn, shouting warnings: “Don’t turn your back on it” and “It goes for the ankles.”
Izzy was doubled over on the dock, half laughing, half hollering, “I told you not to mess with the swan.”
Maggie tried to recover, sidestepping, hands out like she was negotiating with an unhinged and armed toddler. “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re the boss, but—”
Out of nowhere, Gladys came to her rescue, barking and running after the swan.
The swan lunged toward Gladys, which made the dog pause. Maggie backpedaled, desperate not to get between Gladys and the swan, until her foot caught on the light string still snaking across the dock.
There was a half second where time slowed: Izzy shrieking her name, the swan’s wings flaring wide like a demonic creature, Maggie’s arms windmilling.
Then she pitched backward off the dock and hit the lake with a spectacular splash.
The water was shockingly cold, searing against her skin.
Maggie surfaced, sputtering, hair plastered to her face, lake water stinging her eyes. Above her, the swan strutted along the dock, honking like it had just won a jousting tournament.
When she pushed the wet strands of her hair from her face and blinked up, the first thing she saw was Pete doubled over, practically crying with laughter, and Izzy right next to her, gasping for air.
Both of them were useless — clutching their stomachs, pointing at her like she was the best entertainment.
Gladys looked extremely proud, barking at the edge of the dock. Pete had to grab her collar to keep her from jumping in beside Maggie.
“Oh my god,” Izzy wheezed. “You — you said — snobby goose — and now look at you—” She collapsed against Pete, the two of them shaking.
“Glad I could amuse,” Maggie muttered, coughing up pond water.
From the dock, Danica knelt, reaching her hand out, face caught between worry and trying not to laugh. “Here, come on.”
Kiera appeared beside her, more efficient, already bracing herself to haul Maggie up. Together, the two of them managed to drag her back onto the dock, dripping and indignant.
Maggie tried to stand, but the second she put weight on her left foot, pain shot up her ankle. She gasped in pain and nearly toppled again. She stayed sitting, instead.
“You okay?” Danica asked quickly, hand still steadying her.
“Totally fine,” Maggie said through clenched teeth.
“You can’t even stand,” Kiera pointed out, brows knitting.
“Standing is overrated,” Maggie shot back, forcing a grin. “Really, I’m great. Lake water’s good for the skin. People pay a lot of money for lake water. Very refreshing. Five stars.”
Behind them, Pete was still howling. “That swan has it out for us.”
Izzy nodded, tears streaking her cheeks. “It didn’t even hesitate. Straight for the ankles. It knew.”
Gladys got in a few healing licks to Maggie’s cheek. Maggie groaned, clutching Kiera’s arm as Danica bent to examine her. “I’m fine. It’s a mild—” She gasped as Danica touched her ankle. “Inconvenience. Barely a sprain.”
“Barely?” Pete snorted. “You face-planted into the lake.”
Maggie glared at her. “I tripped on the lights. Very different.”
The swan honked again in the distance, as if to say don’t forget who’s boss.
Maggie shoved wet hair out of her eyes, muttering, “I am not losing a standoff to poultry.”
Pete wiped tears of laughter from her face. “Oh, honey. You already did.”