Day 9
Asher
The parents spend the next day feverishly house hunting. They sit around the kitchen table in the morning, huddled together like some sort of war council, and we don’t see them again until midafternoon when they come home during a gap in their showings.
“How’s it going?” I ask my dad anxiously. He’s sitting on our deck with a bottle of beer. The way he’s looking out at the lake longingly, like he might be saying good-bye soon, isn’t making me very optimistic.
“It’s … going,” he says, taking a drink and setting his bottle on the white plastic table beside him.
“I’m sorry,” I say, because I feel like I need to. “You guys must know the shit me and Sid do every summer, and I don’t know what happened this time. Things just…” He’s still looking out at the lake. “I’m sorry we screwed this all up.”
“Not that I want to condone this weird feud you and Sidney have going on”—Dad takes a sip and puts his bottle back down—“but I don’t think that’s what this was really about.”
“But Nadine said—”
“I know what she said, but this is the first time she’s ever said anything to us.
I think she’s got some sort of agenda of her own.
” He points to the giant house looming behind us.
“Ever since they built that house, things have been tense around here. Maybe she’s finally over having renters in her backyard. ”
“Then why build your house behind rental houses?”
Dad doesn’t say anything, just points his beer at me and raises his brows, as if to say exactly.
It doesn’t change the situation at all, but it makes me feel a tiny bit better to think that this isn’t entirely about Sidney and me.
Dad swallows and licks his lips. “Listen, I know things are … weird … with you and Sidney. But you need to figure it out. Fix things with her. We’ve always let the two of you hash things out, because you’re both good kids.
” Dad sets his empty bottle on the railing. “But it’s starting to affect everyone.”
I nod.
“How’s the letter going?” Dad’s voice is brighter, like he’s flipped a switch from the sad Sidney situation to the bright and happy topic of my future as a financial planning wizard. Or maybe since he’s a wizard, that would make me an apprentice. Or me being a wizard would make him a mage?
I don’t know anything about wizards or mages, so I suppose I’m just avoiding The Letter. It sounds so ominous and important. It is important. And maybe a tiny bit ominous, too, though it’s hard to pinpoint why just the thought of it puts a knot in my stomach. “I’m working on it.”
“Can I read what you have so far?”
Dear Mr. Ockler …
I have a feeling Dad wouldn’t be impressed by my current progress. “Maybe next week?”
Dad nods, and looks back out toward the lake.
“You think there’s any chance we’ll find houses?”
Dad pushes himself up out of his chair and turns back toward the house.
“No idea, but we’ll do what we can.” He takes a few steps toward the kitchen door, where I see Mom standing.
“We have a few showings left today, and a bunch of properties we still need to hear back from. We’ve called everyone locally we can, trying to find houses that might not normally be available.
” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not looking great, though.
And you should know, Mom and I agreed that the Walters get first dibs if it comes down to it. This whole thing started with them.”
My stomach sinks. Sidney could stay, and I could leave?
How is that fair? I glance over at the deck by the lake where Sidney is laid out on the unicorn, her hair fanned out behind her.
She looks peaceful from this distance; soft and gentle.
I can almost imagine she’s that girl I met my first summer here, and not the competitive psycho she actually is.
Her sunscreen and water bottle are on the deck beside her.
As I look at her I think about a very important question: if this is the end, what will my final farewell to Sidney Walters be?
Sidney
“Wanna see the new house?” I hear Mom’s voice before I see her.
The door slams and she comes bounding into the kitchen, practically yelling into the living room, where I’m curled up on the couch with a book.
“You’re inside?” she says, clearly disappointed that I’m not fully embracing the day I’ve been given at the lake.
It feels like she just walked in on me shaving my head or something.
“Too much sun this morning,” I say, turning so she can see my red chest, framed by the white straps of my tank top. “I loaded up on aloe, so hopefully I’ll be back out there tomorrow.”
Mom nods in approval.
I set my book down on the couch and follow her out to the car where Dad is waiting for us with the engine running.
Across the yard I can see Asher in his kitchen, talking to his parents.
Did they find a house, too? We follow the road that wraps around the lake for at least fifteen minutes, until we’re in a tangle of little side roads I don’t recognize.
“Where are we?” I ask, looking out the window at the water, trying to place our location on the perimeter of the lake. I’m disoriented by the faraway strip of trees and houses I can see past the homes in front of us.
“Pretty much the opposite side of the lake,” Dad says.
“In that little bay that dips in,” Mom adds approvingly. “The water is always calmer over here.”
My mother, always finding the silver lining.
I don’t say anything, because I don’t really have any opinions about the different areas of the lake, and I’m not sure why I even asked.
All I know is my side of the lake. The side where the bottom is sandy, and the shallow waters stretch out farther than seems possible.
We turn off of the main road and onto a dirt path that leads into heavy pine trees.
I assume it’s a road until it finally empties out into a grassy yard.
There’s a gray house ahead. Unlike Lake House A or B, this one looks more like an actual house and less like a cabin.
It’s bigger, and newer. We pull up behind it, right next to a FOR SALE sign.
“Are we buying it?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
“We talked them into renting it while it’s on the market,” Dad says. “A Realtor may have to bring someone through once in a while.”
Mom cuts in. “But it’s a vacation home, and it’s been on the market for over a year, so chances are good we won’t be bothered too often.”
Dad nods. “Fingers crossed.”
“Cool.” I don’t know what else to say. I don’t plan on having a problem with any house they pick. It is, after all, my fault that we’re being kicked out of our house.
I follow Mom and Dad to the side of the house where a beautiful dark wood door leads into a little tiled entryway that dumps into a long room. To the right is the kitchen, and to the left is a round wooden table and white chairs. Behind it, a row of three windows looks out toward the lake.
The kitchen is twice the size of our old kitchen, with a little peninsula that juts out and three bright red metal stools.
Beyond it is a large living room with skylights, and a three-season room to the left that leads out to a large two-tiered deck.
Like Lake House A, this house is set on a hill, but we’re right on the edge of it, practically hanging over the water, set alongside a little jut of trees.
To the left of the deck, a small beach area stretches out, and a dock cuts into the water.
On the opposite end of the house there is a master bedroom with bathroom on one side of the hallway, and a large bedroom on the other side.
Beyond them are a laundry room and a large bathroom.
At the end of the hallway are two more bedrooms. Everything in this house is in shades of white, blue, and gray, with pops of yellow here and there.
Compared to the dark paneling and garage-sale furniture of Lake House A, it’s like looking into the sun, being surrounded by so many pale colors.
“This is ridiculous,” I say as I join my parents out on the deck.
The sun is setting and the trees that stretch up across the hills on the opposite side of the lake look like they’re on fire.
The house isn’t that fancy, but it’s a million times nicer than what I’m used to at the lake.
There’s an attention to detail here that Nadine obviously never bothered with.
This feels like a house someone might live in all year.
It almost feels too nice for a vacation house.
There’s something comfortable and low-stress about worn-in furniture and mismatched lamps. “We can afford this?”
I regret saying it. My parents don’t ever bring up money. I have no idea how much our usual cabin costs, but this one is at least twice as big and ten times as nice, so I can only assume.
“It would be a bit of an adjustment,” Mom says, leaning on the railing next to me, her eyes fixed on the lake.
Her voice sounds cautious. Maybe this isn’t a done deal.
Maybe I shouldn’t get my hopes up. I look out across the water, trying to make out where our old house would be on the horizon, but everything looks like a mass of green and blue from this distance.
Behind us a door slams, and I hear voices inside the house. I hear Sylvie first.
“Did they find a house, too?” I say in Mom’s direction, before they reach the deck and it becomes rude to ask.
“They did,” Mom says, her voice full of relief.
I smile, glad that Asher and I didn’t ruin everyone’s summer. Maybe this can all still be salvaged after all.
“Where?” I ask as Sylvie steps out onto the deck, followed by Greg and Asher.
Mom pushes her hair back from her face and looks to my dad, who takes a step toward my mom, like they need to be a united front. But a united front for what?