Chapter 33
33
Tuesday, July 22
41 Days Left at the Lake
The strangest thing happens when I find the courage to call Elyse to tell her I want to withdraw my photograph from the show.
She’s thrilled .
“Good for you. I’m devastated I won’t have one of your pieces, of course, but you have to follow your intuition.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Of course not.” She laughs. “It’s about time you disagreed with me. Although, I do wish you’d have done it sooner. And I would still love to have you at the opening.”
“I’ll visit as soon as I’m back.” I don’t want to leave the lake a moment sooner than I have to. “And I’m sorry. I know how much you love that shot, but I want to go in a different direction. I’ve been playing around with some new stuff, and I might be onto something.” And as I say it, it’s like the click of a shutter. I am onto something—something I want to keep chasing.
“Obviously I’m intrigued. You’ll show me when you’re ready?”
I promise I will.
“It sounds like this summer has been good for you,” Elyse says before we hang up. “You sound different.”
“I feel different,” I tell her. “I feel like I’ve woken up.”
Charlie and I spend our days together, floating on the lake, racing around in the boat, jumping from the rock. We discover a boulder on the other side of the boathouse, flat enough to lie on together, that’s very private. A secret spot. He leaves Nan and me to our sewing but comes back in the evenings for cards, puzzles, and one impassioned game of Monopoly. He’s as ruthless as a real estate mogul. We stay up long after Nan goes to sleep, talking until the moon hangs high above the water like a disco ball.
On Friday evening, I sit between Charlie’s legs on the boulder, looking over the water, my back resting on his chest. I turn my head to kiss him and find hesitation in his eyes. It’s often like this. He’ll pause for just a second, long enough that I know he is considering exercising restraint. But he never does. He’ll blink and press his mouth to mine with an urgency that’s almost staggering. Tonight, his lips move from my mouth to my shoulder as he draws lazy circles over my bathing suit top, then lower, with a maddeningly relaxed pace, slowing even further when I get close, until I’m shaking, almost in tears, whispering his name over and over.
We haven’t had sex. Charlie wants to take things slow , and I know it’s because he’s afraid of breaking this delicate thing we have. I won’t admit it, but it’s been kind of fun dragging it out. It’s sneaky and silly and just like I’m seventeen. Not that I was kissing anyone at seventeen.
But everything changes on Saturday. It’s Percy and Sam’s party, and things suddenly feel grown-up. I’ve pushed the adult world and the city aside, but now the city is coming to us.
I don my armor. I straighten my hair, securing it in a sleek ponytail at the nape of my neck, and it hangs to the middle of my back in a shining rope of auburn. I wear my tortoiseshell glasses and a black short-sleeved silk jumpsuit. I paint my lips and nails red.
When I examine my reflection in the mirror, I see a confident, stylish woman. The Alice I am when I’m shooting. But it feels like a mask.
“You should let your hair down,” Nan says as I’m buckling my sandals, the ones with a chunky heel and straps that wrap around my ankles in a way that is both complicated and decidedly sexy. They’re comfortable, and I have two pairs. I’m picky, but when I find something I love, I buy multiples. I go all in on everything, including footwear.
“Do you mean that literally?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “But now that you mention it, why do you have it pulled back so tight? You haven’t worn it like this all summer.”
“Does it look bad?”
“You look beautiful, Alice. You always do.”
“Thank you.” I unslouch my shoulders to mimic hers. “It would be a good night to use that phone.” I’ve written John’s number on a piece of paper and left it on the counter. “You’ll have privacy,” I add.
“We’ll see.”
I pour her a glass of scotch. “Here.” I set it on the table next to her chair. “Call your friend.”
I kiss Nan on the cheek and hoist my bag over my shoulder. I’m glad I offered to take photos. I need a camera in my hands tonight. I stride out the door with a confidence I don’t feel.
On the walk there, I focus on my breathing, on the crunch of pebbles beneath my feet, on the scent of pine that fills the evening air. But there’s a pit in my stomach I can’t get rid of. A house full of strangers. People who mean something to Charlie. And Charlie himself. We haven’t discussed how we’ll behave together. Am I supposed to pretend that I haven’t spent hours making out with him in the tree house?
I’m okay. It’s just a job.
I repeat it to myself, but it doesn’t feel true.
As I approach the house, I’m so nervous, I barely register my legs. I feel like a teenager in the worst way—self-conscious and terrified I’ll fade into the background. I pass cars parked along the side of the narrow road, and when I get to the Florek driveway, there are so many vehicles it’s like a parking lot.
The windows of the house are wide open, and music and laughter drifts out in greeting. Paper lanterns are strung everywhere. They crisscross over the path to the front door and drape the perimeter of the porch.
Percy answers before I knock.
“Oh my god, Alice!” She yanks me inside. “Hi! I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so different. In a good way, I mean. You look hot .” Her eyes expand. “I’m sorry, that was weird. I’m a little overwhelmed with all this.” She waves her arm around. Music plays, but it’s the volume of the crowd that’s deafening. Even the entrance is shoulder to shoulder.
“The party?”
“Yeah. But it also just really hit me on me on the drive up here today.” She leans closer like she’s telling a secret. “I’m having a baby. I’m going to be a mom .”
I laugh, feeling my anxiety ebb like it often does once I’m doing the thing instead of thinking about it. “That’s the rumor,” I say. “And thank you. You also look different. Also hot.”
Percy’s hair falls in tousled waves to her shoulders, parted in the center, with curtain bangs framing her lovely brown eyes. Her makeup is rosy and natural looking, but I bet it took ages to get right.
“I’m sweating like you wouldn’t believe,” she says.
“One of the perks of being pregnant is that we call it glowing .”
And she is. Her dress is a pretty periwinkle blue with a square neckline, a fitted bodice, and a skirt that’s draped over her waist, falling elegantly to the middle of her calves. She’s wearing sandals similar to my own, with a solid heel that won’t sink into grass, except they’re silver and even higher.
“Anything you can do to make sure I’m not excessively glowing in the photos would be much appreciated,” Percy says as I take my cameras out of my bag. I’ll shoot mostly digital, but I’ve also brought my Pentax and rolls of black and white, my preference for parties. You can strip away the noise of color and the busyness of the room and focus on the action and emotion. Hopefully there’ll be enough light to work with.
“Don’t worry about that,” I tell her. “Just have fun. Pretend like I’m not even here.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, I don’t think so. You and I haven’t spent nearly enough time together.” She walks toward the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow. “Come on. I think he’s been waiting for you. He keeps looking at the door.”
We squeeze our way through the kitchen to the deck. My eyes find Charlie immediately. He’s leaning against the railing, a bottle of beer in one hand, gesturing with the other, holding court with Sam in a large group. He’s clean-shaven, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a pair of black dress pants. His dimples are showing off. I fiddle with my Pentax because he looks incredible, and I need to find calm.
We’re a few feet away when he glances at me, and then does a double take. I raise my camera on instinct, before I can unpack the look he gives me.
Click.
Through my lens, I watch his mouth break into a dazzling smile, as bright as late July sun.
Click.
“I told you,” Percy says.
Sam wraps his arm around her when we reach them. He whispers something into her ear that makes her chortle. Charlie tugs on my ponytail by way of greeting.
“This is different. The glasses. The lipstick.”
“It’s my work uniform.”
“I’ve always loved a woman in uniform,” Charlie says, giving me a wink. I shake my head. The man can’t help himself.
He leans into my ear close enough that his lips brush my skin. “You look unbelievable. Like always.”
If anyone else sees the way he’s staring at me, they’re going to figure out just how much we’re benefiting from our friendship. Charlie clearly doesn’t care, and the feeling of holding his attention in such a large crowd is almost drugging. It’s all I can do not to turn my cheek and kiss him. But I pull back and give him a once-over. “You look fine, I suppose.”
“I look damn fine.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. My nerves have evaporated. I’ve coated myself in all my protective layers, but they aren’t what makes me safe. It’s Charlie. I don’t need to be in-command photographer Alice or obliging daughter Alice or perfect girlfriend Alice. I can just be me. A woman at a party, trying to figure out her shit like everyone else.
I’m introduced to Julien, a longtime friend of the family and the chef and owner of the Tavern. I meet friends of both Charlie’s and Sam’s and their partners. I meet Percy’s parents. When Harrison joins the group, I notice Charlie takes a step closer to me.
At one point, Percy lets out another loud laugh, and Charlie and I turn to see her and Sam cracking up about something. I glance at Charlie, and I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu. It takes me a moment to figure out why, to place the familiar expressions: Percy’s big smile, the way Sam is focused on her, and Charlie, watching his brother with a delighted smirk. It’s how they were in my photo.
I snap frame after frame, and then Percy pulls me over to ask me what shade of lipstick I’m wearing. And soon we’re talking about makeup and magazines and art directors we both know. I glance at Charlie when I hear his laugh, and I see him and Sam sharing some kind of inside joke.
And it dawns on me.
This is exactly where I wanted to be when I was seventeen, but it’s also exactly where I want to be now.
Percy, Sam, and I are deep in a conversation about the manuscript she’s working on when I feel a hand on my back.
“What can I get you to drink?”
I pause and look up at Charlie.
“And why are you smiling like that?” he says.
Because for once in my life, I don’t feel like I’m on the sidelines. For once, I’m in the photo.
“I’m having a good time,” I tell him. “Sparkling water would be great, thanks.”
“Really? I hired a bartender. She’ll make anything you want.”
“I don’t drink while I’m working.”
“All right,” he says. “One sparkling water, coming up.”
“What do you think of the tree house?” I ask Percy and Sam once he’s left.
“We haven’t seen the finished product,” Percy says.
“Charlie’s being dramatic,” Sam adds. “The official unveiling is tonight.”
“It’s pretty incredible,” I tell them, and they share a look. I get the feeling Percy and Sam can communicate without speaking. “It’s come a long way since you were last here.”
Percy’s smile grows. “He’s let you in it, then?”
Her question is a loaded one, and I look around, hoping Charlie will return and rescue me from what I’m almost certain is about to become an interrogation. But he’s nowhere in sight.
“He has,” I say slowly, knowing I’m turning a vibrant hue.
Sam arches a single brow and takes a sip of whatever brown liquor is in his glass.
“I’m going to pop inside,” I tell them. “I want to get shots of your guests.”
I slip away but not before I hear Percy telling Sam, “You owe me twenty bucks.”
Thirty minutes later, I feel a hand on my shoulder. “There you are. I’ve been trying to find you.” Charlie passes me a glass. “You get what you needed?”
“For the most part.” I’d like to take a few more of Percy and Sam, but otherwise I think I’ve captured enough crowd and detail shots.
“Want to put the cameras away for a while? Enjoy the party?”
I shake my head. “I’m better with them.”
“They look heavy. Don’t you get sore?”
“My neck and my shoulders do, but I’m used to it. Don’t worry about me.”
“Not worried. Just checking in. I want you to have fun.”
“I am having fun. This is a great party, Charlie.”
I take a moment to peek around the living room. It has a large stone hearth in the middle, grander than the one at our cottage. The mantel has a display of photos of Charlie and Sam as children. I’ve already inspected them all. There’s one of their parents on their wedding day. Sue reminds me so much of Charlie, sunny and dimpled. Sam looks more like his dad. There’s another in a pewter frame of Sam and Percy sitting on the end of the dock, wrapped in towels—they’re young, barely teenagers. And another of them on their wedding day. Percy’s gown is lacy and elegant. She looks at the camera while Sam stares at her, the way he does in my photo.
There’s a DJ in one corner of the room and a bartender in another. She’s wearing a bow tie and suit, and she’s making nonalcoholic Persephone Spritzes and whiskey Sam Sours. The music is a curious mix of old country songs, Motown, and pop, but somehow it works. The room is still bursting with people. It’s an attractive crowd. I wave to Harrison, who’s chatting with a gorgeous redhead and Percy’s best friend, Chantal, a stunning woman with waist-length box braids. Both are looking at Charlie with narrowed eyes.
“Exes of yours?” I ask. He lets out a snort.
Guess that’s a no.
“I met Chantal earlier, but who’s the other one?”
“Delilah.”
I glance at Delilah, and she catches me looking. She makes her way over.
She’s wearing a red dress that shows off her little waist and generous curves. Her hair is a deeper shade of auburn than mine, brighter, bolder. She’s like human fire, my opposite. I peer at Charlie. They would look good together.
“Charlie, hey,” she says.
“Good to see you, Delilah.”
She offers me her hand. “Delilah Mason.”
“Alice Everly,” I say. “How do you know Sam and Percy?”
“I’ve known Percy since elementary school, but I met the Florek boys when I was fourteen or fifteen. I had a bit of a crush on this one,” she says, tilting her head at Charlie. His mouth is arranged in a wry grin.
“Don’t worry,” she tells me. “He never showed me a second of interest.”
“Why would that worry me?”
She looks between us. “Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed you were together. He’s been looking at you like you’re some kind of snack.”
Charlie lifts his brows at that, and I will my face not to heat. “We’re good friends,” I tell her.
“Okay.” Delilah laughs, and I think she may have had one too many Sam Sours. “I know what being friends with Charlie entails.”
Charlie’s spine straightens just as Chantal comes to Delilah’s side. “Sorry about her,” she says to me. “She thinks she can hold her liquor.”
As Chantal yanks a giggling Delilah away, I turn to Charlie. “What was that about?”
He takes a swig of beer. “History.”