Chapter 11
11
“Are you collecting handsome men today?” Nan asks when Charlie and I arrive at the top of the stairs.
“Just the one,” I tell her. “Nan, this is Charlie Florek. He’s looking after the property for John.”
“Our spirited letter writer and handyman?”
“The very same.”
Her smile blooms as she pieces it together. “And the gentleman from the grocery store this morning?”
“Yup.”
Charlie folds his arms across his chest, smug. “She told you about me, huh?”
Nan’s smile is wider than I’ve seen it since we arrived, encompassing every inch of her face—her lips, the skin around her mouth, the creases around her eyes.
“Nanette Everly.” She sticks out her hand, and Charlie envelops it with his palm. “But everyone calls me Nan. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done around the cottage. I’m sure Alice has told you how grateful we are.”
His eyes skate to me. “Actually, she left that part out.”
“You’re so dashing she must have forgotten herself.”
“Now that you mention it, she did seem a bit flustered.”
I meet his shimmering gaze with daggers.
“Make yourself comfortable, Charlie,” she says. “And I’ll fix us tea.”
“I can do it, Nan.”
“Nonsense.”
“Please.” I feel Charlie watching us. I don’t want to fight in front of him, but Nan can’t go back and forth between the kitchen and the deck easily. Nor do I want her to attempt it with cups of tea balanced on her walker. “Just let me.”
“I’m more than capable, dear .” She’s being polite in front of company, but I know what it means when she says dear like that.
I open my mouth, but Charlie speaks up first. “My grandma fractured her hip a few years ago,” he tells Nan. “Slipped in the snow. How did you manage it?”
“I wore the wrong shoes to dance class. My foot went right out from under me doing kicks to some silly old song.”
“It was ‘Dancing Queen,’?” I say, sharing a look with Charlie that says, We’re not allowed to laugh at this.
“Apparently not,” Nan huffs.
Charlie’s eyes widen. But it’s so funny , they say.
“Why don’t we all go inside,” he offers, holding back a grin. “Alice needs to get out of the sun, and I wouldn’t mind a comfortable chair.”
Nan peers at me over her glasses. “She does look rather crisp, doesn’t she?”
We get her inside, Charlie moving a floor lamp closer to the wall to make more room for her walker. I head to the kitchen to put the kettle on, almost gasping at the photo of teenage Charlie on the fridge. I pull it down and hide it under a stack of paper napkins in a cupboard. What a day.
“I grew up on the lake, but I live in Toronto now,” Charlie is telling Nan when I return to the living room.
“What neighborhood? Alice is in the Junction.”
“I have a condo in Yorkville.”
Nan is in her armchair, with her pressed shirt and her pearls. Charlie is on the sofa, shirtless and barefoot. The contrast is just too good. I fetch my camera out of my bag.
Click.
Nan is used to my shooting and pays no attention, but Charlie’s head whips around, a questioning look on his face.
I offer no explanation. “I’ll find you something to wear.”
One of the drawers in my bedroom dresser is full of cozy socks and faded T-shirts. I dig out the largest one for Charlie and change into a pair of yellow linen shorts and a sleeveless white blouse, then lasso my curls into a bun at the nape of my neck.
“Very impressive,” Nan is saying to Charlie when I return. She’s not easily impressed, nor is she one to needlessly flatter. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes, Charlie has managed to win my grandmother over.
Her praise makes him glow. He’s shining like the sun, cheeks slightly flushed. He looks younger. He looks like the boy in my photo. “Thanks,” he says. “I’ve worked hard.”
I hand him the shirt, and he pulls it over his head. It’s sky blue with Barry’s Bay written across the chest beneath a loon, and it’s obscenely tight through the shoulders and arms. Does he fight fires for a living? Does he fight crime? I glance at Nan, and we share a conspiratorial look.
“Tea will be ready in a few minutes,” I say, taking a seat on the sofa next to him.
“Charlie was just telling me that he works on Bay Street as a trader.”
I look at Charlie, picturing him in a suit and tie. Post-work cocktail parties. Hot women.
“That makes sense.”
Charlie tilts his head. “Meaning?”
“You fit the bill.” Cavalier. Confident. I bet he’s competitive.
“That feels like an insult,” Charlie says.
“You’ll survive.” I reach over and pat his leg but am not prepared for the heat of his skin beneath my fingers, or the way they want to explore his thigh, find out whether he’s hot everywhere. I don’t think Charlie is prepared, either, because as soon as I touch him, his gaze rockets to my hand. I snatch it back just as fast.
“I doubt anyone survives you,” he says, lifting his eyes to me. They truly are magnificent, changeable in the light. A deeper bottle green than they were in the sun.
Nan sizes us up like we’re dessert. “Oh, this is too good. Charlie, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone ruffle Alice’s feathers the way you did with the letter. It was a riot.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.”
Nan hoots. Hoots. She’s as happy as a clam—I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen her like this since before her fall. “Oh, I like you far more than the last one.”
“Nan,” I say, hoping to sidestep the subject of my ex. “It’s not like that.”
Charlie grins at me like a jungle cat. “Not yet.”
Now she claps.
“Don’t encourage him,” I tell her, but I love seeing her happy. And I suspect Charlie’s leaning into it, flirting to put on a show. It’s a very believable act.
He tilts forward and whispers to Nan, “So what was wrong with the last one?”
“He was a real dud,” she says. “So serious and fussy. I never once saw Alice laugh when they were together.”
“Nan, please.”
“It’s true,” she says to Charlie. “Dull as a chalkboard. Alice helped him with his business, and he had the nerve to break up with her.” I shut my eyes for only a second, just long enough to keep it together in front of Charlie.
I don’t know how to make you happy, Alice. Do you?
“I’m sorry,” Charlie says softly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I stand, smoothing my hands over the front of my shorts. “How do you take your tea?”
“I don’t,” Charlie says.
“Pardon?”
“I don’t drink tea,” he clarifies.
Nan scoffs. “Everyone drinks tea.”
Charlie turns to her. “How should I take it, then?”
For all his joking, I appreciate that he doesn’t speak to Nan like she’s a delicate old lady or a child.
“Sweet tooth?” Nan asks him.
“Not with this body.”
“Just with a splash of milk, then.”
Charlie turns back to me. “I’ll take it with a splash of milk, thanks.”
I retreat to the kitchen, a Trevor-shaped headache pushing against my temples.
“But don’t I make you happy?” I asked just before Trevor walked out.
He’d given me a sad smile and kissed my cheek. “I think you really tried.”
I thought Trevor was the one. But now he’s engaged to a pediatric nurse named Astilbe, and I’m left facing the possibility that the only person I’ll spend my life with is me.
Over and over, I keep falling. Over and over, I keep getting my heart broken. Everlasting love may have existed for my grandmother’s generation, but I’m beginning to think it’s a modern myth. Heather’s divorced. My parents are, too. They pulled the plug on their marriage three years ago, right after the twins left home. I held out hope that the separation was temporary until the very end, when the divorce was finalized, and Mom changed her last name. She’s Michelle Dale once more.
I blink away the tears and bring out the tea and cake.
“I imagine sabbaticals aren’t common in your line of work,” Nan says to Charlie as I hand him a cup. It looks like a dollhouse accessory in his hand.
I take a seat, noticing that he straightens slightly, like he’s zipping himself together.
“Probably not. But I’m not common. I’m very good at what I do.”
A few minutes earlier, I would have rolled my eyes, but I find myself studying Charlie, trying to determine whether there’s something more to him than dimples and triceps.
“I imagine you are,” Nan says, then gestures to me. “Alice is a photographer.”
“I’ve heard,” he says, looking at me with a delighted quirk of his brow.
“She’s very gifted. One of her photos has been selected for a big exhibition later this year. What’s the show called, Alice?”
“ In (Her) Camera ,” I tell her. “My friend owns the gallery,” I say to Charlie.
“Don’t downplay it, Alice. It’s a stunning shot. Haunting.”
Haunting . Yes.
It’s a portrait of a woman, staring directly into the camera, chin tilted up. From a distance Aanya looks like a typical executive. Blazer. Bland chin-length blowout. But when you step closer, you can see the creases of her eye makeup, the flakes of mascara beneath her eyes, the exhaustion in her gaze. She looks defeated. She was the CEO of a major telecom, and I shot her for a magazine profile. Three days later, Aanya was ousted in a corporate coup. It’s without question a powerful image, but there were other photos she and I liked far better—ones where the lighting isn’t so harsh, where she looks tired but determined, that felt truer to who she is. I tried to convince the photo editor to choose one of them, but he selected an image that suited the story the magazine wanted to tell.
Maybe that’s why it bothers me so much. Someone else decided how Aanya showed up in the world. Or maybe it’s because I didn’t argue my case with the photo editor hard enough.
Elyse loves the portrait. She looks at Aanya and sees strength and resilience. I see my own weakness.
Including it in the show makes a statement about who I am as a photographer. The portrait is good; great even. But it doesn’t feel like me. In truth, I’m not sure what me feels like anymore. Aside from the photos I snapped on the island earlier today, I don’t remember when I shot just for myself, without worrying about acing an assignment.
“When is the show, Alice? I don’t think you mentioned,” Nan says now.
“It runs from August until the end of the year.”
“You’ll have to go back for the opening,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind a few days here on my own.”
“It’s not a big deal, Nan. I don’t want to leave you.” Which is only part of the truth. I’m happy to have an excuse not to see the photo in the gallery.
Nan narrows her eyes. “I’m not a child.”
I feel Charlie looking between us. “I know,” I say quietly. “That’s not it.”
“You can’t blame Alice for not wanting to leave the lake in August,” Charlie says. I glance at him, grateful. He lifts his teacup in my direction before turning to Nan. “You know, I think I remember you from when I was growing up. You and your husband visited a lot, right?”
It’s an elite distraction. Nan lights up like a Christmas tree. “We came every summer. John and Joyce were our closest friends.”
Charlie squints. “John said it’s been a long time since you’ve been back. He asked me to let him know how you’re doing—said you haven’t spoken in a long time.”
I whip my head in Nan’s direction. I didn’t know that.
“People change.” She keeps her eyes set on Charlie as he sips his tea. He hasn’t touched the cake. “Now tell me, what are you doing to keep yourself busy this summer? I imagine a man like you would get bored quickly.”
“I don’t really believe in boredom,” he says. “I know a lot of people in Barry’s Bay. I’ve got my boat. The Jet Ski. I have some projects to do around here for John. And I’m building a tree house.”
“A tree house? Do you have children?” Nan asks.
Charlie shakes his head. “My brother and sister-in-law are expecting their first in October, two days before my birthday.” His voice has gone soft. “I’m throwing them a big party next month. My take on a baby shower. The tree house is my gift.” His voice catches, and he blinks, caught off guard by his emotions.
I jump in quickly, trying to ease what’s just come up for him. “What newborn baby doesn’t love climbing ladders?”
“Alice,” Nan chides. “It’s a nice thought.”
But Charlie looks at me, like I somehow knew he would, eyes glimmering as if he’s ready to play. “I thought I’d stick a bassinet inside, so the baby doesn’t disturb my sleep. I might need some help getting it up there, though. You game?”
“I’m in. We should add a rocking chair, too. That way your brother and sister-in-law will be comfortable.”
“Genius,” he says. “They don’t need proper shelter.”
“Or running water.”
Charlie chuckles, and his eyes fall to my mouth and pause there. It’s because I’m smiling, I realize. A big, toothy grin that pulls at my cheeks. He suddenly gets to his feet.
“I should probably head out. Thank you for the tea. I’ll bring those end tables to you tomorrow,” he tells Nan. “I’ll leave my number in case you ever need anything when Alice isn’t around.”
“Speaking of,” Nan says with a devious smile. “We’re celebrating Alice’s birthday next week. July 1. Her brother and sister will be here. Why don’t you join us for dinner?”
“You don’t have to come,” I say to Charlie as I walk him down to the dock. “It’s just going to be a little party, but my siblings are a lot .”
“I like a lot .”
“There’ll be feather boas and tiaras and glitter,” I say. I have a vision for the night, and Charlie doesn’t fit into it.
“That’s good news,” he says, coming to a stop on the dock. “I look fantastic in a tiara.”
“But it’s Canada Day,” I say. “You probably have plans.”
Green eyes bore into mine. “If you don’t want me to come, Alice, just say so.”
I chew on the inside of my mouth. I don’t know what I’m going to get with Charlie. He’s like the mystery roll of film I once discovered under the lining of my bag. I had no idea what I’d find on it.
He sticks out his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“I get the sense I haven’t made a good first impression, so let’s start over. I’m Charlie Florek.”
I frown, and he beams back at me.
“And you are…” he prompts.
“I’m Alice Everly?” I say, putting my palm in his.
Charlie squeezes it firmly, giving it a shake. His smile draws out his dimples. “And you are Alice Everly.”
Alice Everly. Alice Everly. Alice Everly.
I should pull my hand away, but for some reason, I don’t. I let him hold my small hand in his large one.
“Rumor has it that you’re throwing a big party on Canada Day, Alice. The whole lake is talking about it.”
I think of the boy in my photo, and the girl who wanted to hang out with him. I think of the way Charlie made Nan giggle.
“You should come,” I tell him. “I think I can put up with you for an evening.”
Charlie smiles, and it’s so genuine I struggle not to do the same.
“Don’t look too happy,” I tell him. “You’ll have to wear your own shirt.”
“No guarantees.”
He drops my hand, and mine feels so much colder. Charlie steps into the boat with grace, pulls the T-shirt over his head, and tosses it to me. “Wear it to bed, Alice. Picture me in your dreams.”
I wrinkle my nose, but it only makes him laugh.
“You’re…” I don’t even know what he is.
“Remarkable?” He throws me a grin, then unties the boat. He gets it started and then pulls away, his back to me, the sun caressing his skin.
“Oh, and, Alice?” he calls, looking over his shoulder. “About that list of yours. Consider number three your birthday gift.”
I don’t remember what number three is, but I know I should be embarrassed that he does. I stare at Charlie’s yellow boat as it soars across the bay, clutching a shirt that smells like summer.