Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Hallie
T he Parkers’ lake house is a sprawling stone and wood lakefront structure in Deep Creek, Maryland. It has a massive front porch with a row of cushioned chairs and a deck off the living room in the back overlooking the fire pit, the pool, and the lake. It is the most beautiful, interesting house I have ever seen, and it feels more like home than any of my actual homes ever have.
Julie and Ben’s parents bought the lake house when we were four years old. At the time, it was a one floor, five-bedroom cabin with a loft that served as a kind of unofficial kid hangout. Over the years, the Parkers have added a second floor to the cabin and wings to flank the original structure on either side to accommodate our growing group.
Rachel and Steven Parker are the most amazing people in the world. As more friends came into our lives, they wanted everyone to feel at home when they came to the lake. For them, that means a bedroom for everyone—no sharing necessary—and two full weeks of friends, family, amazing food, and all our lake house traditions.
It's late afternoon when Julie and I drive up the long gravel driveway and pull up to the front of the house, followed by Molly and Emma. I look up at the house that holds so many of my best memories. Like every time I lay eyes on it after a long time away, my heart lifts and my soul quiets in a way that it doesn’t almost anywhere else.
“Mom’s really outdone herself on the flowers this year,” Julie observes, as we gather up all the detritus of a two-and-a-half-hour road trip from the floor of the car. An interior designer by profession, Rachel gardens as a hobby. Even though Steven has offered to hire a gardener and landscaper many times over the years, she always refuses, insisting that gardening is her happy place. The house is a riot of colors. Flower beds line the front and stretch alongside the driveway, and large planters filled with colorful blooms flank the porch steps and front door. It is happy, gorgeous, organized chaos, and I love every single inch of it.
“She really does get better every year.”
“God, don’t tell her that. She’ll be impossible to live with.”
I snort out a laugh because Julie is right. Rachel is amazing at what she does, and she knows it. I pop the trunk and get out to start unloading, as Molly and Emma do the same behind me. I’m just grabbing the handle of my biggest suitcase when the front door opens. I turn towards the sound, as Ben strolls out wearing board shorts, a white t-shirt, and a baseball cap, fully in vacation mode. He looks relaxed and happy and so much like my Ben that I wonder if maybe I built last night up in my head into something that it wasn’t. I’ve been in a weird place lately. It was my mind playing tricks on me, seeing things that weren’t really there.
That’s definitely it.
Probably.
“Welcome to the lake, ladies.” He grins and starts down the stairs. As he walks directly to me, he takes off his hat, runs his fingers through his blond waves, and resettles the hat on his head, backwards. I have seen him do that a thousand times, but this time it sends a bolt of arousal straight to my core. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t my mind playing tricks. He reaches me and pulls me into a hug.
“So happy to see you, Hallie girl,” he whispers directly into my ear. I wind my arms around his back to return the hug as my stomach explodes in a riot of butterflies, and that bolt of arousal doubles in size. Okay. Shit. No tricks. None at all. Good thing I packed the good vibrator. He holds onto me for just a second longer than is strictly friendly, and then he releases me. He slides the tote bag off my shoulder and onto his, taking the suitcase out of my hands and grabbing my second one from the trunk.
Stunned a little speechless by my reaction to his greeting, I finally locate my vocal cords. “You don’t have to carry all my bags, you know.”
“Sure I do, Hal.” He tosses me a wink and heads up the porch steps.
“He could have taken my bags,” grumbles Julie, as she pulls hers from the trunk and follows Ben up the stairs. Molly trails after her wearing a caftan she must have changed into on the road, massive sunglasses, a big floppy hat, and a tote bag on each arm. Her pile of luggage sits by the car waiting to, no doubt, be carried up to the house by whichever of the men she can charm into doing it. Her dramatic vacation vibe makes me giggle at her retreating form.
She turns around at the top of the porch steps, holds both arms out, yells, “Vacation, baby!” and then sweeps into the house, calling a hello to whoever is in there.
“What was with you and Ben?” I jump at Emma’s voice behind me.
“What do you mean?”
“That was a pretty long hug hello, considering you just saw him at the gala last night.”
“Oh, was it? I guess maybe. I didn’t notice.”
She looks at me for a long moment and I get the uncomfortable feeling that, in her Emma way, she is seeing way more than I want her to. But then she just shrugs and says, “Okay. Come on; let’s get in there.”
Thank all the gods she decides not to press, because I have no idea what I would tell her. Admitting I’m feeling something about Ben seems weird and premature since I have no clue what is going on with him. And with me. With him and me? God, no, no him and me. Friend Ben.
Get your shit together, Hallie .
We walk into the house and even though I can hear the chaos of voices back in the kitchen and would kill for an iced latte since my last coffee was two hours ago, I stop for a moment and take everything in. The massive, cheerful great room with the same oversize furniture Julie, Ben, and I tumbled over as kids. The bookshelves overflowing with both classics and well-loved paperbacks I curled up with as a teenager on rainy summer afternoons. I take a deep, cleansing breath as the memories wash over me. Everything about the house is family and love and home . I love every gorgeous inch.
Emma and I walk through the great room, back to the kitchen and straight into the arms of Rachel Parker. She hugs Emma and then reaches for me and wraps her arms around me.
“I am so happy to see you, Hallie.”
It’s not lost on me that her words of greeting are the same ones Ben used outside, but while his led to butterflies, arousal, and confusion, Rachel’s greeting leaves me full of warmth. I've always felt closer to Rachel than I do to my mom. There's something about the ways she gets me that is so different from my family. I can let myself be open with her in ways I can't or won't with almost anyone else, except, strangely, Ben. She releases me from the hug but keeps her hands on my shoulders as she studies my face.
“You doing okay, my girl?”
Ben got all his compassion, and the color of his eyes, from his mom. Her expression of concern is so like his that it makes a lump rise in my throat. Terrified I am going either to lose it in this bright, cheery kitchen or spill my guts to her about my existential work crisis and the weirdness with Ben, I just nod, but then I reach out and hug her again.
Over her shoulder, I see Ben around the big farmhouse table with the girls, but he is paying attention only to me. His quiet, steady gaze holds mine, and everything in me relaxes. How this man can give me butterflies one minute and calm my entire being the next is a mystery.
Feeling steadier, I release Rachel. I barely turn around before Ben is handing me a glass with a straw in it.
“Iced latte. Figured it’s been a while since your last caffeine hit, and you were probably running on empty. And I put your bags in your room.”
He gives me a sexy smirk and then strolls out the back door to the deck. I just stare after him, wondering how he knew what kind of coffee I wanted when I didn’t decide until I stepped into the house. And also, why I am suddenly thinking about any facial expression of Ben’s as sexy.
God, my head is a mess.
I take my first grateful sip of the latte, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Emma watching me quietly from her place by the glass doors out to the deck. Shit. But I don’t have too much time to consider what Emma sees or doesn’t see before I am attacked on both sides by my sisters.
“You’re finally here!” Jo yells, a little too close to my ear.
“I missed you! And I am so sad I missed the gala! How was it? Tell me everything .” What Hannah’s voice lacks in volume, it makes up for in extreme enthusiasm.
“Oh my god, yes ,” squeals Jo. “Who hooked up? What was everyone wearing? Did you meet any new athletes? I need to see all your pictures!”
The thing about Hannah and Jo is that once they get into it, they can do an entire thing on their own without me ever having to say anything. They keep firing questions at me and bouncing questions off each other without noticing that I still haven’t said a word. I take my typical position when the three of us are together and they get on a roll - standing there and waiting for my turn to talk. Just as they are winding down, though, my parents step into the kitchen.
“Hallie!” My dad scoops me up in a bear hug. “Missed you, baby doll.” I bury my face in his neck and breathe in his comforting dad scent. I think he’s been wearing the same lime-scented deodorant since 1985. It is uniquely him, and to me, it smells like home. Without warning, the same lump that rose in my throat when Rachel studied me makes a reappearance. I let go as quickly as I can, even more unwilling to let loose my emotions that are swimming too close to the surface now that my family has descended.
My dad heads outside and my mom wraps me up next. As she is letting go, she says, “I’ve barely talked to you in the last couple of weeks, Hallie. How is everything going with the firm?”
Ugh. I should have used the drive up here to strategize in my head about how I was going to answer these questions I knew would be coming from my family. I had, mostly successfully, avoided phone calls and visits under the guise that we were too busy setting up the office, but my luck has clearly run out. Never great at thinking on my feet, I just mumble, “Things are good.”
“Just a few more months until you girls are ready to open. You must be so happy.”
“Of course, she’s happy,” says Jo. “They’ve been planning this for years, and it’s finally happening.”
“I would kill to be my own boss and work with my best friends. Work is so annoying lately. Did I tell you about what happened with my boss? You’re not going to believe what he did.”
Hannah launches into some story, and for once, I’m grateful for my sisters and their need to voice all their feelings about all the things, because it means no one is focused on me and how unhappy I am with my current professional predicament. Hannah is still talking, my mom and Jo’s attention on her, as I slip quietly outside onto the deck and into the lake sunshine.