Chapter Four
Sorry it’s just the powdered kind,” Liz said, putting a glass of lemonade loaded with ice down on the table beside me. “We’ve been cleaning stuff out. I don’t have the fridge stocked.”
I had not asked for a drink, wasn’t thirsty at all. When I picked it up, though, I drained the entire thing. Immediately, she refilled it.
We were all on the back porch, at a wooden table circled by straight-backed chairs.
To get there, we’d first passed a large living room with a big bay window and a fireplace.
All the furniture was draped in sheets, shrouded, giving it a heavy, still feeling.
The hall then led to the kitchen, which had a wide steel sink and white cupboards.
The porch, just beyond, was lined by windows and ran across the entire back of the house.
Liz’s phone chimed as she pulled out a chair to my left. My mom was a few seats down from us, bent over her own screen. Her chosen distance was obvious not just to me but also my aunts, who had waved me to the head of the table before sitting on either side.
“Do you need to get that?” Kasey asked her, as Liz’s phone again sounded. Her own lemonade was untouched.
“No, it’s just Anne,” Liz replied. “This wedding planner Kathy hired is making her crazy.”
“Kathy?” my mom asked.
“Mother of the groom,” Kasey told her. “Jonathan’s mom. They’re Tides people.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant. But my mom seemed to.
“She claimed,” Liz added, “that it was an engagement gift. To make things easier, so Anne could enjoy it! Now I’m not so sure.”
“Stop stressing. It’s going to be a perfect day.” Kasey reached over, patting her sister’s hand.
“So, Cat,” Kasey asked. “Where are you staying?”
Liz’s phone buzzed again. “Sorry,” she mumbled, reaching for it. She typed a quick response, then silenced it before turning it over, for good measure.
“My assistant is booking us a suite at the Tides,” my mom replied, glancing at her phone again. “Although it’s taking a while.”
“They’re renovating,” Liz told her. “Only half the rooms are available.”
“Oh.” My mom looked up. “Well. I’ll just find another hotel.”
Kasey and Liz exchanged a glance. “It’s the Water Festival this week,” Liz said, nodding at the lake, which was dotted with boats. “Everything’s been booked for months.”
“There has to be something,” my mom said, sounding irritated. She put her phone to her ear, pushing back her chair. “Marella? Apparently, the Tides is out. So look for something along those lines, close by. What? Calvander’s? See what kind of restaurant they have.”
Still talking, she walked through the kitchen, then took a right down another hallway. Clearly, she knew her way around.
“A restaurant at Calvander’s?” Liz said, then snorted. “You barely get towels.”
“Stop,” Kasey said. To me she explained, “It’s a true lake motel. Not exactly your mom’s speed.”
“This is all just so weird!” Liz exclaimed. Kasey shot her a look. “What? Be honest. When has Cat ever come here without a ton of notice and a reservation?”
“She doesn’t come here,” Kasey told her.
My phone, on silent, jumped in my pocket. Quickly, I pulled it out, swiping to my messages. EVERYTHING ON SALE! Use code SUMMER. After a moment, I realized my aunts were both staring at me.
“Thought it was my boyfriend,” I explained. “He’s on a cruise right now.”
“Fun!” Liz said. “Travis and I did Alaska for our fifteenth. It was magical.”
All this relayed like I knew who she was talking about. Just like them sitting on either side of me, there was a familiarity. At least on their part. To me it was odd, like I should be feeling something I wasn’t.
Which was not an issue when it came to Colin.
Still, as I slid my phone back in my pocket, I had a flash of that breath he’d taken when I’d asked him on graduation night if we’d be okay.
How could I ever give up the girl who told me about Seymour the Goat?
he’d replied. Of course, it had been a big day, full of all kinds of moments.
This was just one of them. But it wasn’t until now, for some reason, that I realized it wasn’t really an answer.
“I promise it will get cooler,” Liz said, bustling over to open a window. “Once the sun sets and a breeze gets going. I used to need a blanket in July.”
This was the second time she’d mentioned that this had once been her room. Even though we’d only really just met—again—I’d already surmised Liz was both a nervous talker and a repeater. A deadly combo. Especially in a small, stuffy space.
“Now, these mattresses are actually new by Woods standards,” she told me, before putting a set of sheets she was carrying—pillowcase, fitted, flat—on each bed. “Which means in the last ten years. The one your mom’s on is anyone’s guess.”
This, too, she’d already brought up multiple times.
Once it became clear we had no other options for lodging—the Water Festival was serious—I’d been put here.
My mom, however, had chosen a small, narrow room off the kitchen I’d initially missed.
It was bare except for a bed, a door with a metal screen, and a bureau, slightly slanted.
“Juvie?” Kasey had said as my mom dragged her suitcase over the threshold. “Seriously?”
“It’s close to everything,” my mom replied, her back to us. “And we’re not staying long.”
“There are four other regular-sized rooms,” Liz said.
“Upstairs.” My mom put her suitcase next to the bureau, dropping her tote on top of it. “This is fine.”
Fine. For the person I’d only ever seen at a five-star hotel and the best restaurants.
There was not a lot to depend on when it came to my mom, but a nice ride—or plane, hotel, resort, theater seat—was all but guaranteed during Her Time.
Sure, it was awkward. But even being uneasy was less effort in the good seats. An upside I’d come to appreciate.
Now I looked around my own room as Liz bustled back around the bed again, her faux-gold slides—which revealed a bright pink pedicure—slapping. The walls were the same dark wood that made up the rest of the house, with a built-in boxy closet and one window. The glass was aged and waxy.
“FYI, it’s a bigger drop than it looks to the ground,” she said, when she saw me studying it. “Not that I expect you’ll have to climb out, but it’s good to know. Your mom broke her elbow that way.”
“She did?”
“During her wild years.”
Her what?
There was a distant bump, followed by a creak. Liz froze. “She’s opening that door? Dear God. Last I checked there was a wasp nest in the screen.”
“Watch for wasps!” Kasey called at the same time.
My mom appeared not to hear this, as the banging continued. Then, a scream.
“Damn,” Liz said. A scurry of slaps as she moved into the hall. “I’ll get the Raid.”
A blur passed by my open door, arms flailing. It was my mom. This was what finally broke her: flying insects.
“Whoa,” I heard Kasey say. “We should probably call an exterminator.”
“Add it to the list.” Various bangs and thuds were now coming from the kitchen. Liz sighed. “God. Why do we have so much bleach and rags in here? Did I miss a murder?”
“Not that I remember.”
Just then, there was a crunching of gravel from outside.
Looking again out the window, I saw it was the truck, returning.
Clark was behind the wheel, another guy with freckles and shaggy brown curls in the passenger seat.
They both watched as my mom came down the steps, still shrieking and waving her arms although nothing now trailed her.
Again, I felt that weird mix of embarrassment and protectiveness.
“What’s with the screaming?” Clark asked.
“Wasps,” Kasey, who was outside as well, told him. “In the Juvie door.”
“Where’s the Raid?”
“I’m finding it!” Liz yelled from the kitchen. How could she hear everything?
Clark got out. The other guy, who was in jeans and a worn green T-shirt, did the same. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys.
“All closed up,” he said, holding them out to Kasey. “Got the leak stopped until the plumber can get there.”
“Bless you.” She took them. As Clark headed inside, she added, “Hey! Be careful. Remember last time.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
“Another reason not to stay in Juvie,” I heard Liz say from somewhere. “At least it’s not hornets.”
Hornets?
“Finley.” I looked up: My mom was in my doorway. Slightly calmer, clearly still rattled. She took a breath. “You okay?”
This was a tough question. What was okay, right now?
“Why do they call that room ‘Juvie’?” I asked.
She’d been peering down the hall and now glanced at me, distracted. “It’s the worst room in the house. Tiny, off the kitchen, no quiet.”
“Wasps,” I added.
“Right.” A hissing noise from the kitchen area, followed by doors banging. “My mother always made the summer room assignments. We had a lot of rules. If she put you there, it was usually a punishment for breaking them. Hence the name.”
This was hard to reconcile with my own memory of my grandmother. The one time we’d visited before her funeral she’d been tiny and white-haired, smiling and patting me constantly with one or the other of her thin, blue-veined hands. “Did you stay there a lot?”
“Think you’ll be okay in here?”
So she didn’t want to talk about it. Fair. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
She nodded, businesslike, before starting back to the kitchen. Now, outside, I could see my aunts standing by the minivan, deep in conversation. Between Liz’s sensible mom-wear outfit and Kasey’s oversized shirt and cutoff shorts, they looked more like a mother and daughter than sisters.
Liz said something, running a hand through her hair and leaving a few sprigs sticking up. Kasey nodded, then reached out, smoothing them back down. All fixed.
Were they talking about my mom? Me? It was weird to suddenly be a mystery. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“Perfect,” my mom said, as the waiter set down a glass of white wine. “Thank you.”