Chapter Fifteen
“G o away,” Celeste said, burrowing farther under a quilt on the couch in her living room after another set of knocks came at her door. Quinn had been by twice already since she’d told her parents she couldn’t work that day, and Celeste had been forced to tell her what had happened with Jack. Quinn had tried to give her advice, but after a few minutes she’d told her sister she just wanted to be alone. Quinn was sweet. She was a great listener. But she had never been in love, and Celeste didn’t feel like talking to someone who didn’t get it.
She heard the door open. “Sorry, not sorry,” a voice called—the most perfect of voices for what she was feeling right now. It was Ava.
Celeste sat up as she came through the door, her arms weighed down by bags.
“Holy hell, you look like shit,” Ava said. She laughed. “Clearly I should have been here hours ago!”
Celeste burst into tears, burying her head in the pillow.
Ava approached the couch, dropped the bags she was holding, and sat right next to her, taking Celeste’s head in her hands. “Get a grip, Celeste,” she said. “And once you’ve done that, go get ready. We’re going out tonight.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
“I gave up a full day with Sam to come up here. She’s with Calista overnight. I dropped over a grand on a great outfit for you—and under-eye patches, which I thought you might need.” She ripped the pillow away from under her head and examined Celeste’s face. “I was right. So you,” she said, pressing her finger to Celeste’s chest, which made her laugh, despite herself, “are getting your ass in the shower while I mix us some negronis and warm up these patties from Steady’s.”
Celeste’s eyes pooled with tears again. “I love you,” she said. She buried her head in her sister’s shoulder.
Ava took her by the shoulders and looked at her head on. “Stop emoting. Go get ready,” she said.
Celeste stood under the hot stream of water in the shower. The last thing she wanted to do was go anywhere, but she wouldn’t win with Ava. One drink at home, one at the bar, and in a couple of hours, she’d be changing back into her fleece pajamas and crawling into bed, floating off to a dream world where Jack Wallace didn’t exist.
When she exited the shower, she found a wardrobe bag on her bed. Ava might not have been the one she could count on for warm fuzzies, but she was thoughtful and showed love in her own way.
And today she was showing her love with a very generous swipe of her credit card. Celeste’s eyes widened as she pulled out a soft knit off-white cashmere sweater dress from the Holt Renfrew bag, with a price tag that left no doubt her sister was doing very well at her job.
She slid the dress over her body and looked in the mirror. It fit her perfectly, and for something on the more snug side, it was also very comfortable. Maybe money did buy happiness.
When she returned to the kitchen, Ava had laid out some bowls of appetizers and two deep-orange cocktails. She looked up at Celeste and nodded in approval. “Much better,” she said. “Where do you want to go tonight?”
Back to the couch? she thought. “Maybe Allen’s?” Celeste said. It was just far enough out of town that they likely wouldn’t run into anyone they knew.
She noted Ava’s lips purse slightly. “Not Allen’s,” she said. “Let’s just go into town. I don’t want to drive.” The way Ava flinched at the mention of the popular nightspot was a bit strange, but Celeste didn’t argue. If they ended up running into old friends, at least she could leave Ava behind and not have to worry about a ride.
They walked through the wooded path into town, which took them a bit out of the way, but walking at the side of the highway at night, where there was only a gravel shoulder, was a bad idea, especially after a drink or two.
Best Case Brewery was on Keystone Ridge’s main strip and was operated by two former lawyers and best friends who’d left the profession to pursue their other dream. The brewery served several different types of beer but also had a great cocktail menu and, apparently, poured shots.
“Thanks,” Ava said, sliding her credit card across the bar to the young bartender. “I’ll start a tab.”
“Seriously?” Celeste said, trailing her sister to a high-top table near the window. “Shots? What are we, twenty-three years old?”
“I never get to go out anymore,” Ava said. She placed the shot glasses on the table, shrugged off her jacket, and slung it over her stool, then nodded at the table. “It’s Saturday night. Indulge me.” Ava held up her shot glass to clink against Celeste’s.
She tipped her head back, then grimaced as the tequila burned the back of her throat. “Ugh. Tequila will forever remind me of Jordan Randall’s party in grade twelve.”
Ava laughed. “How many weeks were we grounded for that summer?”
“At least three for me. Maybe only two for you.” Celeste had broken the rules very few times in her life, but when she had, she’d made it count. Ava had only been fifteen at the time and begged Celeste to bring her with her. She had refused until Ava had threatened to spill to their parents about the blow-out party, and she’d begrudgingly brought her sister along.
Another girl at the party had given Celeste a dirty look for talking to her boyfriend, and Ava had sloshed her cheap beer in the girl’s face and threatened to rip her ponytail extension off.
Maybe it was the tequila, but Celeste’s heart warmed at the thought of her sister going to bat for her like that. Ava was tough. She was complicated. But she was so fiercely loyal, and the fact that she’d driven all the way from the city to take Celeste out meant a lot. She took a deep breath and decided to go all in. “Next shot’s on me. Then Robyn or Sia?”
Ava’s face lit up and a devilish smile crossed her face. “Now we’re talking.”
Celeste collected two more shots from the bar and held them in the spaces between her pointer and middle fingers and middle and ring fingers as she leaned over to request a song from the DJ, who looked like he’d just walked out of his high school exams, then returned to the table to join her sister.
“Speaking of talking…”
Celeste waited. Ava wasn’t a talker, but she sensed her sister had dragged her out to do more than drink.
“Okay?” Celeste said.
“Quinn told me she found you in the office in tears last night.”
“Yeah,” Celeste said. She stared at the coaster on the table and scraped at the edges of it with her thumbnail.
“Want to tell me what that’s all about?”
“Not really.”
“Come on.”
Celeste looked at her sister pointedly. “That’s pretty rich coming from you, the world’s most secretive person.”
Ava leaned in. “Except I know you want to talk.”
Celeste sighed. She did, actually, although she was worried about getting all teary in such a public place, where she recognized at least half of the other guests. “Fine. I’ll tell you what happened, but I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Ava nodded. “I think I really screwed things up with Jack. He’s been so supportive and so there for me, and I didn’t even think about the fact that my leaving town would be a dealbreaker.”
“Leaving town?” Ava said.
“I got a job offer in BC.”
Her sister raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you haven’t told Mom and Dad.”
“No. And don’t say anything. I’m going to tell them tomorrow.”
“I won’t.” She paused. “And Jack didn’t jump up and down at the news. Celeste, come on, what did you expect?”
Celeste felt her throat constrict. “I don’t know. The job was a total surprise. And I guess I just thought if it was real, we’d make it work.”
“That’s a really long way away. Especially for a new relationship.”
She took a sip of her drink. “I think I ruined everything.”
“And you’ve fallen for him,” Ava said softly.
Celeste swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Is this new job… Is this what you really want?”
Celeste shook her head. “I don’t know. But I put myself second before—with Matt. I don’t want to do that again.”
“I can respect that,” said Ava.
They sat for a moment in silence as the lanky twentysomething host of the karaoke night took the mic.
“ Llllladies and gentlemen, welcome to Best Case Brewery’s karaoke night!” he called. “Write down your song from A to Z ; it’s time to let those vocals free. This is not a night of competition, just a place of musical ignition!”
Celeste looked at Ava and rolled her eyes. “This could be bad.” She did, however, remember a few of the lodge’s guests coming back after a night at the brewery remarking on “decent local talent.”
The host read out instructions for signups, then launched into “Kiss from a Rose.” He had a good voice, as far as talent went in the Keystone Ridge area.
A red-haired woman in her early fifties was up next and did a pretty decent job with “We Belong Together” by Mariah Carey, and by the time she got to the chorus, Celeste nodded to the door. “I’m out,” she said. “What is this, the heartbreak hotel?”
“Lyrics just hit you differently when you’re hurting,” Ava said with authority. Celeste found it very hard to believe anyone had ever hurt Ava. But maybe she was wrong. “Stay here,” Ava said, hopping off her stool.
Celeste watched as her sister strode to the bar, then picked up her phone, hoping that maybe Jack had texted, but the only message that had come through was a reminder from her hairdresser that she had an appointment scheduled in the morning.
Ava slid back into her seat moments later and slid a rocks glass across the table. “Drink that. We’re up next.”
“Forget it!” Celeste said. She stood up and looked around for her coat, but it had disappeared from the hook beside their table. “Where’s my coat?”
“I hid it,” her sister said, a look of mischief in her eyes.
“Give it to me. My keys are in it. I’m going home.”
“Exactly,” Ava said. “I’ll give you your keys after you sing a song with me.”
“Fine. I’ll stay at Mom and Dad’s.”
Ava leaned in, grabbed Celeste’s chin, and looked her straight in the eyes. “Veruca Salt.”
Celeste shook her head free from her sister’s grip. “You’re using it on this ?”
Ava nodded, a small smile threatening to spill. “Yup.”
Years ago, on Quinn’s sixteenth birthday, when Quinn had begged them all to go to the local pioneer village and participate in a historical reenactment of a town-hall debate, costumes included, they’d begrudgingly agreed but only after making it clear to Quinn she’d used up her one trump card. “Volcano Girls” by Veruca Salt had been playing on the radio in the car on the way over, so they’d used the band’s name to coin the phrase they could use when they wanted to veto a decision, a one-and-done card they could play. And now it seemed Ava was cashing hers in.
“You’re evil. Are you kidding me right now?”
“Drink up,” Ava said as the host took to the mic.
“Calling up Celeste and Ava,” he said, and there was a smattering of applause through the room.
Before she could protest, Ava linked her arm in Celeste’s, picked up both of their drinks, and seconds later Celeste was standing on stage with a blinding bright spotlight on them.
Ava shoved a mic into one of her hands and her drink in the other, just as the opening chords of the most outrageous karaoke song Celeste could think of came through the speakers.
“Wait, this is the wrong—”
“Nope! It’s right,” Ava yelled gleefully in her ear over the music. “No love songs, right? Let’s alternate yeah s. Then you’ve got the first verse. Take it to the chorus.”
It was a good thing Celeste, Ava, and Elodie had spent much of their teen years choreographing dances, with Quinn and her stuffies as their audience, because Celeste barely had to look at the screen for lyrics.
The drinks had done their job, because Celeste was no longer feeling any iota of stage fright. In fact, with her new outfit and the confidence that came with having Ava beside her, she suddenly felt like a pop star, ready to tell the rest of the pub to ride it, my pony . Ginuwine would be proud!
They sang. They danced, back to back and perhaps a little more raunchily than the Best Case Brewery karaoke crowd was used to. They laughed. The crowd cheered, although the room might have been echoey, but Celeste decided that she and Ava were just that talented. So much so that a few patrons had their cameras up, recording them. She was too drunk to care!
They stepped off the stage, bent over laughing. “Let’s do another!” Celeste proclaimed, stumbling and catching herself on a couple’s table and sloshing their drinks. “Sorry!” she proclaimed. Ava signaled to the bar for another round. “Let’s do Robyn!” Celeste said. She loved Robyn. And the pub would love them singing it! Tralala!
“One more, then home,” Ava said, and Celeste loved her sister even more than she ever had before.
*
The next morning, when Celeste woke up in a fully incapacitating nausea, a brick taking up space in her skull, and the foul remnants of ethanol in her mouth, she loved her sister much less.
By some kind of miracle, they only had three rooms booked at the lodge, so there was minimal work to do before she dragged herself to the salon, where the scent of hair dye and the warmth of the hair dryer were almost too much to bear, and even when she stepped out with a fresh cut, dye, and blowout, when she looked at the rearview mirror of her car, she still looked rough.
The only thing she could think about was Miss Vickie’s jalapeno chips, which usually did the trick, so on her way back to the lodge, she pulled into the parking lot near the IGA in Banff.
Under the bright fluorescent lights of the grocery store, she grabbed the chips and a bottle of Perrier and brought them to the checkout. The cashier blinked at her. “Great job last night,” she said, then grinned.
“Oh no. You were at Best Case?” Celeste said. She tapped her debit card on the machine, and then the girl passed her the receipt. From what she could remember, there had been around thirty to forty people there, and hopefully most of them were out-of-towners who she’d never see again.
The young woman cocked her head to the side and peered at her through her red-rimmed glasses. “No, I saw it on Keystone Konnection. I’m only eighteen.”
Celeste almost dropped the bottle. “You what?”
“I’m only eighteen. Everyone tells me I look older.”
“No, I’m asking about the video. What do you mean you saw something on Keystone Konnection?”
“There’s a video of you. And another girl, singing. Dancing. Looks like it was a great time.”
After mumbling something about peer pressure and alcohol, Celeste raced back to her car, threw the water and chips onto the passenger seat, and opened the Instagram app on her phone. Trying her best to steady the now-raging nausea, she navigated to the account that reposted anything that was tagged Keystone Ridge . Her stomach lurched when she saw a shaky video of her on stage, doing her very best Ginuwine impression, her provocative grinding nowhere near as impressive as it had been in her mind the night before.
Everyone would see it. Her friends. Her parents.
Jack.
Ugh. She slunk down in her seat and squeezed her eyes shut, the wave of embarrassment and regret colliding with her hangover in a perfect storm.
She took a deep, steadying breath, then replayed the video. How many people did she know that followed this account? Certainly everyone in Keystone Ridge. And probably the surrounding area.
Including Annie Flint.
*
When she returned to the lodge, the couch was calling for a nap. But she had two things to do first.
Stephan answered on the first ring. “Hello, Stephan speaking.”
She swallowed. “Hello, Stephan, this is Celeste McCarthy calling.”
“Nice to hear from you, Celeste.”
She took a deep breath. This was it. She wanted to feel a sense of confidence. Excitement, even. But all she could muster up was enough resolve to say what she’d called to say. “I’d like to come and visit the island,” she said. “I’m strongly considering the position.”
“I’m so glad to hear that, Celeste,” Stephan said. “I’ll have my assistant make arrangements and send you the details. Is Tuesday morning okay with you?”
“Perfect,” she said. She couldn’t tell if the nausea she was feeling was from her hangover or the decision she’d just made.
“We’ll look forward to seeing you then.”
“Likewise,” she said.
“Oh, and Celeste,” he said, “it’s probably best not to have that type of video circulating. For your professional reputation.”
“Agreed,” said Celeste, her stomach sinking with embarrassment. “That…was a one-off.” A one-off caused by a total disappointment.
“I’ll look forward to seeing you Tuesday,” said Stephan.
“Me too,” she said. “See you then.”
She tossed her phone onto the couch, then looked out the window and saw her parents down by the water. Perfect. They were together, with no one else around.
Celeste took the gravel path down to the waterfront, to the seasonal boathouse where they kept the canoes and kayaks. Everett was wiping down boats with a rag, while Jeannie was organizing paddles into piles.
“Hey, sweetheart,” said Everett. “Can you believe it? We don’t usually take these out until June. This’ll be a record for getting out on the water. Want to take one out for a spin with me?”
“Ah, no, not today,” Celeste said. “But glad to see you’re doing better. I hope you don’t plan on lifting those on your own.”
“I’ll get help,” he said.
“He’s threatening to sleep outside tonight,” Jeannie said, rolling her eyes at Celeste.
“I’ve been cooped up for four days. I feel like a caged animal,” said Everett. “And I can’t get over this weather. We’ve usually got a foot of snow still.”
“Well, before you head out,” said Celeste, “I need to talk to you both.” She perched on the armrest of a Muskoka chair, then nodded toward the other seats. “Can you two take a quick break?”
“Sure thing,” said Everett. He wrung out the rag he was using, wiped his hands on his pants, then sat down across from Celeste.
Jeannie sunk into the chair next to him. “I heard you put on quite a show at the brewery last night. Is Ava okay? I had half a mind to text Calista and see if there’s anything going on at home.” Calista was the nanny that Ava employed to help with school drop-off and pickup. She stayed with Sam until Ava got home from work and lightened Ava’s load by keeping the condo tidy and doing some meal prep. Jeannie was worrying about the wrong daughter.
“What? No. Mom! You text with Calista?”
Jeannie shrugged. “What? Ava doesn’t always answer her texts.”
“Does Ava know that?” Celeste had to bet the answer was no. Of the four of them, Jeannie’s nosiness drove Ava the most up the wall.
“Beats me,” said Jeannie.
Celeste shook her head. “Ava’s fine. Listen. I haven’t made any decisions yet. But I want you both to know that I’ve been invited out to Lagoon Island on Tuesday. There’s a new resort being built there, and they’re interested in hiring me to manage the staff.”
She studied her parents’ expressions. Jeannie’s eyes widened and she smiled, and Everett looked impressed. Was it genuine?
“That’s great news, honey,” said Jeannie, but her voice lacked enthusiasm.
“Lagoon Island,” said Everett. “I was there for a wildlife-tracking seminar back in ’87. It’s stunning. Pretty off the grid, though, as far as I can remember.”
“I know. I’m just going to check it out,” said Celeste. “I haven’t committed to anything.”
“Well,” said Jeannie, “good for you. They’d be lucky to have you.”
“They sure would,” said Everett. “Make sure you insist on benefits. And a good salary. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Thanks. I will,” said Celeste. It was a strange feeling, telling her parents, who were also technically her employers, that she might be quitting. She hadn’t expected them to beg her to stay. Likely they knew as well as she did that her tenure at the lodge was uncertain with the new owners. She hadn’t expected them to be overly happy for her either; her departure would put more strain on them while they continued operations until the sale.
“All right, well, I just wanted to let you know.” She stood up and motioned to the lodge. “I’m going to head in and check on things. I’ll see you later on.”
As soon as she was out of earshot, there would be a conversation. But that was between Jeannie and Everett. They might’ve been her employers but they were also her parents, and no matter what they thought of the whole thing, Celeste knew it was important to them that she felt supported.
Her heart felt a bit heavy as she walked up the path from the lake to the lodge, a path she’d walked a thousand times in her life. As a child in a bathing suit after a morning dip in the lake, Jeannie had scolding her to keep out of the way of the guests while she’d run up to grab a Popsicle. As a teenager under the moonlight, getting dropped off at the dock after a party on the island on the other side of the lake, attempting to slip in without her parents knowing she’d missed curfew.
And now as an adult, trying to make the right decision for her future, a future that felt so uncertain and so undefined. Was she making the right choice? Why couldn’t there be a sign?
She had to hope that this trip would bring some clarity.
*
Jack was in a mood.
Another last-minute cancellation had come through only hours before he was meant to meet the group, and even though they were past the point of getting their registration fee back, it still pissed him off that it was so last-minute.
In an uncharacteristic move that made him wonder if his own bad spirits were rubbing off on Bodie, the dog had chewed through one of Jack’s favorite running shoes.
His kettle had shorted out that morning, so he hadn’t had a coffee yet, and now he had to make an unplanned visit to Canadian Tire to pick up a new one.
The host on the local radio station was blabbering on some inane story about running out of plastic wrap. He stabbed the radio console to change the station. A sappy love song played through the speakers.
He growled and shut the damn thing off. Whoever bought into those songs was a fool, as far as he was concerned.
The Canadian Tire was on the outskirts of Sandpiper Springs, close to the lumber mill that employed many of the town’s residents. He slowed his truck down as he entered the residential area.
When he passed by the run-down government-housing townhouse complex, a familiar vehicle caught his eye. You didn’t see too many Hummers in these parts. As he got closer, he made out the familiar decal on the side panel. Forrest.
Jack scowled. He knew it. It was common knowledge that people looking for pills came around this complex, and Jack had no doubt that along with ruining his business, Forrest was still a total lowlife, either buying or selling drugs or doing them himself.
Without signaling, he pulled his truck into the gravel parking lot, blocking Forrest’s Hummer in his parking spot. He was going to give the kid a piece of his mind for the second time that week. Then he was going to let the punk’s dad know what his son was up to.
He got out of the truck and rapped on the driver’s-side window. Forrest looked up, panic in his eyes.
“Roll down your window,” Jack ordered.
Forrest opened the window a crack. “What the hell, man,” he said. “Move your truck.”
“Not until you admit you’re still selling drugs,” Jack said. “I knew it.”
“You don’t know anything,” Forrest said. The fear in his eyes had changed to resignation. “Mind your own business.”
“It is my business,” Jack said. “First you open your hack operation in my territory, steal my clients. And now you’re bringing that trash,” he said, nodding to a gym bag on Forrest’s front seat, “to a community that needs none of it. Tell me why I shouldn’t call the cops right now.”
“I’m not selling drugs.”
“Prove it,” Jack said. “Let me see what’s in the bag.”
“Get out of my face.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket. “All right. I’m making the call.”
Forest took a deep breath, then picked up the bag, opened the window the rest of the way, and shoved the bag at Jack. “I’d appreciate you keeping this to yourself,” he muttered.
Jack unzipped the gym bag and stared for a second at the contents. He looked back at Forrest, who closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the headrest, then looked back at the bag in his hands, trying to make sense of what he was holding.
“Baby formula?” Jack said.
Forrest opened his eyes and stared straight ahead. “Like I said. If you can keep it to yourself…”
Jack’s mind raced as he struggled with what to say.
“My ex-girlfriend lives here. With our baby girl. My family doesn’t know about her. I’m just trying to do the right thing by making some money to give to her that doesn’t have to pass through my father.”
Jack’s felt his cheeks redden with shame. “Shit, man,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He passed the bag back through the window. It was silent for a few moments. “I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks,” Forrest said. When he looked back at Jack, all Jack could see were the eyes of a child.
Jack turned back to his truck, then stopped, cursing himself for what he was about to do. “Hey,” he said. “Meet me down at the Lemington turnpike Tuesday morning. Bring those Sage X rods. We’re going to fix your cast.”
For a second, he expected Forrest to rev up his engine and back up into Jack’s truck, but instead, his face brightened. “Yeah? I have a new Orvis I can bring too.”
Jack sighed. Could he be any more of a softie? “Yeah, bring that too,” he said. “Your cast is garbage. You’re telling me you’ve actually caught a fish before? You’ve got some nerve, starting your own company.”
Forrest grinned. “Almost a hundred five-star reviews would say otherwise.”
Jack fought off a smile as he returned to his truck. “See you in the morning, kid,” he called back.
And at the end of the day, that was what Forrest was. A kid with a grown-up problem, trying his best to be a man.
*
Hank was out front of the tackle shop when he pulled in. “Hey, Jack,” Hank said. “I heard about what went down on the river yesterday.”
“Word travels fast,” said Jack.
“The guys came through to the diner. Could’ve ended badly if you hadn’t been there.”
“Well, didn’t,” Jack said. A few hours ago, he’d have wanted to stick around for a few minutes and fill Hank in on the situation. But now he just felt sorry for Forrest.
“I’m of half a mind to call in to the licensing office,” Hank said.
“Nah, no, don’t do that,” Jack said.
“Really? Might help clear some competition for you.”
Jack knew Hank was just trying to be helpful, and he appreciated him looking out for him, but the way he said it kind of rubbed Jack the wrong way.
“All good, Hank. Leave it alone.”
Hank raised an eyebrow. “You going soft on me, Wallace?”
He sure was.
“I’m going to deal with it my own way,” he said. “Just don’t make the call, okay? I’ll see you later on.”