Chapter 36
Augie got to Noelle’s early. She wore her favorite blue linen dress and gold earrings. It was hard to believe this would only
be her third time seeing Chat outside the Club; she wanted to impress him.
They hadn’t spoken one-on-one since he arrived at her house in the middle of the night. She was desperate to figure out what,
if anything, between them was real. While he had lied to her all summer, she understood now that he’d only been trying to
help. In so many ways, he had succeeded.
Augie was especially grateful for the chance to connect with Teuta in a new way. The day before, they had spent hours at Hyla.
Augie could tell Teuta was terrified, but as they talked and she told Augie how difficult those early years had been—as she
apologized for everything—Augie finally felt closer to her. Even more so after Augie told her about New York and her relationship
with Chat. It was refreshing to be honest with each other. Augie realized then that their age hadn’t been their main divide;
rather, it had been the fact they were both hiding from the world, and mostly, from themselves. It hadn’t come down to simply
being adults. After all, there didn’t seem to be such a thing as grown-ups—only the act of growing up.
Noelle’s was a small, rectangular shop with an order window surrounded by pastel ice cream illustrations and lists of flavors.
Out front, there were pink umbrellas, wooden picnic tables, and a wide lawn pressed up against the lake.
Augie loved sitting as close as possible to the water, and as she slid onto the bench of the best picnic table, sunlight illuminating the blue lake and green grass around her, she took it as a good sign.
She set down her phone and watched an idling boat.
She thought back to the start of summer, the boat party.
Augie was looking down at her shoulder, adjusting the strap of her dress, when she felt a new presence and shadow above her.
She looked up and almost fell off the bench.
There, instead of Chat, was a nearly unrecognizable Mrs. Crawley. She wore a white baseball hat, a gray T-shirt, black leggings,
sneakers. No makeup.
“I know I’m not who you were hoping to see,” Mrs. Crawley said, standing at the opposite side of the table. “But can I sit?”
Augie didn’t react.
Mrs. Crawley slid onto the bench across from her.
“So.” She set down her tote bag and rested her forearms on the table. Despite her forced nonchalance, Augie sensed she was
nervous. Augie didn’t know how to feel.
“So,” she repeated, as she pulled down the bill of her hat. “I’ll keep this quick. I just wanted to clear the air. And, quite
simply”—she cleared her throat—“to apologize. For the luau, for the Fourth, for . . . everything.”
Her voice moved from rushed to assured, as if she’d practiced this before. Augie felt suspended in time. Every dynamic shifted.
The woman across from her was nothing like the woman from two days ago, who had been dressed to the nines and screaming in
her face. Augie couldn’t bear to make eye contact and looked out at the lake.
“If I’m being honest, I was just so excited to have Chat with us this summer. I worried he’d become distracted by you. That he might leave us for you. I’ve never been good at sharing our private life . . .”
“Chat never would have done that, though.” They both seemed to be startled by Augie’s voice. “He never would have just left you.”
Danika leaned back.
“You’re right.” Mrs. Crawley tilted her head. “And if I’m being honest”—she looked straight at Augie—“I was jealous of you.
I was jealous of your freedom. Your possibility. Being young.”
Augie couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You were jealous of me?”
“Of course. I couldn’t stop thinking about those early years with Trey.” At the sound of his name, Augie suddenly pictured
Danika and Trey as herself and Chat. “I couldn’t stop thinking about all the choices I’d made. Everything I thought I wanted
back then.”
“What did you want?”
Mrs. Crawley folded her hands. “To be . . . settled. I was so eager to get married, have a family. That’s the great irony
of life, right? When you’re young, you only want to be old and to know what your life will look like. Then, later, you look
back and—” She shrugged. “It’s bittersweet.” She raised her eyebrows in a playful way. “I know it’s pointless to tell young
people that youth is wasted on the young, so I’ll stop while I’m ahead.”
A breeze moved over them, and Augie swiped the hair from her face and lips.
“There is one thing I wanted to ask you, though.” Mrs. Crawley paused.
Augie tensed. She slid her hands under her thighs.
“How did you find out about Trey? I sense Chat didn’t tell you, not from the start, anyways.”
Augie clawed at the wood of the bench, buying time. There was no use lying anymore. She lifted her hand, pressed a finger to the center of her collarbone.
“Your necklace.” She tapped her finger against her skin. “At the baby shower, Mrs. Cline asked if your necklace was from Latvia.
I heard you tell her it was a gift from an ex. Then I remembered Chat saying he had an uncle in Latvia, and I pieced it together.”
Something changed in Mrs. Crawley’s demeanor then. A fresh vulnerability coupled with—admiration?
“I have a good memory, too.” She lifted her necklace from under her shirt, freeing the pendant so it hung down her front.
It glinted in the light. It was the same color as Chat’s eyes.
Augie felt a connection tug between them.
“Sometimes, I hate my memory. How I can’t forget certain things.”
Augie studied her. She looked younger without makeup, lighter.
“Like the night Trey broke up with me. I’ve never been so heartbroken in my life. He was the one who ended it, you know. I
know the story makes it sound like I left him, fled Latvia, but he made me go.”
Augie stayed quiet, listening.
“I didn’t explain that to Chat or Bill. Call it my ego, maybe. I don’t like to talk about it. Trey basically told me he didn’t
deserve me. And one night, he pulled my suitcase from the closet . . . He said he couldn’t give me the life I wanted. He didn’t
deserve happiness. He said I needed to leave, and he was sorry. Like that was enough.” She glanced up at the sun. “I was devastated,
but I couldn’t fight him. I had no choice. I left in the middle of the night. I haven’t seen him since.”
Augie felt her skin tighten with sympathy.
“All I ever wanted was a family,” she continued. “That safety and security. Love. My own family was such a mess.”
Mrs. Crawley let out a long, low sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Augie suddenly said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Crawley straightened. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. But it feels good to finally talk about it all.
I hope it helps you understand my perspective, too. How seeing Chat, being reminded of Trey, after all these years, I just . . .”
Her voice dissolved.
“I get it.” It was true. It made sense now, her obsession with Chat. How odd it must have been to have him in her life and
home—a ghost of the past. All that pain surfacing. The sick relief of it. While Augie had never experienced such heartbreak,
she knew what it was like to bury memories—and how it felt to let them out.
“I’m also sorry,” Augie said as Mrs. Crawley shifted in her seat, “for this summer. For going over to your house, for the
luau. For . . . spilling on you at that happy hour.”
Mrs. Crawley’s smile ticked higher until they were both grinning at each other.
“Apology accepted.” She leaned forward. Then she tapped the table with both hands and stood up. “Well, I think that’s enough.
Before I go, one last thing.” She picked up her tote bag and slung it onto her shoulder.
“Bill is headed to Hilton Head next week, and I’m going to the cabin with the boys to work on my design firm. The house will
be empty, and Chat isn’t leaving quite yet. So if you’d like to stay there with him while we’re away, well, you’re invited.”
Augie’s mind went blank, but a beat later, it filled with a supercut of her and Chat in the Crawleys’ mansion: images of them
snuggling in the movie theater room, swimming in the pool, laughing at the bar—spending all day in bed.
Mrs. Crawley nodded to the parking lot. “He’s in the car, by the way. He’s excited to see you. Probably for ice cream, too. So, Augie.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet. A twenty-dollar bill. “Let me get this.”
Augie stared at the money. Immediately, she thought back to the baby shower—that haphazard tip. She wasn’t sure how to read
this final gesture. Was this her last power play? Her final way of taking control?
But whatever it was, Augie realized she didn’t care. She’d let Mrs. Crawley have this one. That felt like power, too. She’d
take a free ice cream.
She plucked the cash from Mrs. Crawley’s fingers.
As Augie sat back down on the bench and stared up at the clouds, steadying herself and ruminating on the rawness of the moment,
she heard a voice behind her. She looked over her shoulder, her chin against her bare, tanned skin.
“I hope you don’t hate me for that. For any of this,” Chat said sheepishly. He stood a few yards from the bench as if afraid
to come too close, a stretch of grass between them.
Augie stood up to face him.
“I don’t hate you.”
His eyes brightened as he stepped forward. He wore a red St. Cloud T-shirt, a reminder of the past—the truth.
“Do you still think she’s a bad person?”
Augie twisted her mouth.
“Maybe like, medium bad.”
Chat laughed, and Augie sensed his relief. Augie didn’t want to talk about Mrs. Crawley anymore. She didn’t want to talk about
anyone or anything but the two of them.
“Do you think I’m a bad person?” he said.
Augie squinted at him. “What?”
“For lying to you all summer. To everyone.”
Augie glanced to two birds passing overhead. “No, Chat. Though, I do want to know”—she looked directly at him—“at the boat
party, were you only talking to me because of Leah? Because you wanted to learn more about Lyle and everything? Were you only
using me to get close to her and Teuta?”
“Augie.” Chat shook his head at the ground before looking back up her. “Do I have to remind you that you’re kind of the one
who jumped my bones?”
“But is that the only reason you went along with it?”
Chat took yet another step toward her.
“I didn’t know Leah would be at that party. I didn’t even realize who she was until I heard her name, and then, I felt so
bad about everything, I just wanted to avoid her. At least until I could help. I promise, I was never using you, Augie. Not
for Leah, not for Teuta, not at all. If anything, you made everything more complicated.”
Augie flinched.
“Not in a bad way.” Chat lifted his hands. “This whole summer, all I wanted to do was hang out with you. Talk to you. Danika
was right. You were a distraction. You’re all I thought about.”
Augie’s face flushed, and she couldn’t stop herself: she smiled.
“I haven’t liked anyone in years. And . . .” He blew air out his teeth. “I feel like an idiot saying this, but we have something,
right? Because if I have this all wrong, just tell me. You don’t have to feel bad. I know you were never supposed to see me
again.”
Augie was done talking. She went to him and slid her arms up his shoulders, her fingers fanning the back of his neck. She
studied the lines of gold in his irises—pinwheel rays of sun—and finally, he hugged her into him and kissed her.