Chapter Seven
Back to the non-alcoholic stuff today.
That was the most prominent thought in Rowan’s mind as she dragged her sorry ass out of bed on Wednesday morning. When she’d slept, which hadn’t been nearly enough, she’d slept like crap. Restless. Tossing. Her eyes popping open at every little sound. It had to have been the alcohol.
She managed a shower and threw on some shorts and a tank and padded down the stairs in her bare feet, on a mission to the coffeepot.
As usual, Justine was in the kitchen, pulling a sheet pan out of the oven. “Morning,” she said, to which Rowan grunted. “Oh, my, somebody had a bad night.”
Rowan reached for a mug and poured herself a cup of the steaming liquid she hoped would give her at least an iota of energy.
“You okay?” Only then did she notice that Justine was standing there, looking at her with concern.
A nod. “Yeah. Just slept terribly.”
“I’m sorry.” Justine pulled the oven mitts off her hands.
“Lying there awake just became irritating.” Rowan took a sip of the coffee, scalding her mouth, but also feeling the caffeine hit her system instantly. “So, here I am. Hi.”
“I made a blueberry pancake bake, so go have a seat on the deck, and I’ll bring you a plate. It’s gorgeous this morning.”
Rowan stepped toward her, pushed up on her toes, and kissed Justine’s cheek. “You are a goddess. Thank you.” Then she headed out to the deck.
As had become the routine now, the boat was gone. Rowan assumed at least Lizzie and Stevie were on it, if not an extra person or two. Jazzy lounged in a chair with a cup of coffee and what looked to be a political thriller novel, and Rowan nodded a good morning to her.
“Hi,” Jasmine said, setting her book down.
“Oh, no.” Rowan waved a hand at her. “Go ahead and read. I don’t want to interrupt.”
“I just finished a chapter. You’re not interrupting. How’d you sleep?”
“Lousy. You?”
“Not great. Was there something in the air?” Jazzy shook her head, and it was clear the question was rhetorical.
Rowan shook her head and took the lounge next to Jasmine.
“Breakfast smells amazing,” Jazzy commented. “Justine’s a chef?”
Rowan nodded. “Owns her own café.”
“Seriously? I feel bad that she’s doing all the cooking, then. This is supposed to be a vacation, and she’s still working.”
“It’s okay. She loves it.” Rowan sat back and took a sip of coffee before continuing.
“The first time we all vacationed together was, like, eight or nine years ago, I think. The first time we came to this lake. She did all the cooking, and after the first three days, we all felt terrible about that, so we said something. And she told us she wouldn’t have it any other way, that cooking for us wasn’t work to her, that it’s how she shows her love.
Which we all kinda knew, but to hear her say it was really sweet. ”
“Aww.”
“Yeah. So, she’s done all the cooking ever since, and we always make sure to lavish her with praise, so she knows how much we all appreciate it.”
“She’s a magnificent cook. That chicken the other night?” Jazzy dropped her head back against the chair and rolled it from side to side in delight. “Good God, it was delicious.”
As if on cue, Justine appeared with two plates and two forks, and she handed one to each of them. “You guys are my guinea pigs. First time I’ve made this outside the café. Let me know if it’s okay.”
Each plate had two squares on it, one sitting up against the other—because presentation was everything, Justine had taught her once—drizzled with maple syrup and dusted with powdered sugar.
The squares were the cakey tan color of pancakes with little deep blue explosions of color sprinkled throughout.
Rowan and Jasmine each cut themselves a bite and popped them into their mouths.
And then? Eyes went wide as they looked at each other.
“Oh my God,” Jazzy said, her words muffled by the food in her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“So good,” Rowan agreed, nodding as she chewed.
“Wow.” She also remembered from experience that Justine liked to hear the details, so she did her best. “It’s a little more cake-like than a pancake but has the same flavor.
It could be dry, but it’s not because the blueberries are just bursting with juice.
How did you keep it from getting soggy?”
Justine’s grin was proud, and Rowan knew she’d asked the right question. “I baked it partially first, then added the blueberries late.”
“Brilliant. It’s delicious.”
Jazzy nodded in agreement, and Justine’s smile was wide as she headed back inside. “I’d be big as a house if Becca could cook like that.”
“Becca can’t cook at all,” Rowan said.
“Facts.”
They sat and ate in silence for a few minutes, and soon, Rowan could see the canoe coming into view.
But instead of Evie and Claire, as she’d expected, it was Claire and Becca.
Her brain immediately wondered where Evie was—had she gone out fishing with Stevie and Lizzie?
—but then she shook it away. It didn’t matter where Evie was.
Evie was none of her business. She’d be smart to keep that in mind.
“Where’s Evie?” she asked out loud, as if her mouth had a mind of its own. Annoyance at herself set in like a snap of her fingers.
“Sleeping in.” Jazzy chewed and swallowed her last bite. “Claire said she wasn’t feeling well.”
And now she was worried. It wasn’t something she could help. She couldn’t stop the feeling, much as she wanted to. It was as if it was ingrained in her, worrying about Evie. She sighed, and Jazzy looked over at her.
“You okay?”
Rowan finished her breakfast and gave a nod. “Fine.” She glanced around, the heat already beginning to feel thick. Her eyes landed on the square floating off the dock. “It’s warm this morning. I’m gonna go for a swim, I think.”
Jazzy snorted. “Yeah, have fun with that.”
“Not a swimmer, huh?”
“Listen, I’m fine in a pool where I can see my feet and nothing lives in there except pool toys.” She pointed at the lake. “I don’t know what’s in there, and I’d rather not find out because it nibbled on my leg.”
Rowan laughed softly. “Fair enough. All set?” She stood and put out a hand for Jazzy’s empty plate.
Inside, she rinsed both plates, put them into the dishwasher, refilled her coffee, and took it upstairs with her.
At the top of the staircase, she turned right toward her own room, but glanced over her shoulder at the closed door opposite.
Before she could stop herself or even make sense of what she was doing, she’d crossed to it and tapped gently on Evie’s door.
“Evie?” she called softly. “You okay?”
“What are you doing?”
The voice startled her enough that her arm jerked and she nearly spilled hot coffee on herself. She turned to see Claire at the top of the stairs, heading her way.
Rowan cleared her throat. “Just seeing if Evie’s okay.”
“She’s fine. Just tired.” Claire moved in front of Rowan and put her hand on the doorknob.
“Okay. I was just checking.”
“She’s fine.”
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, and Rowan got the distinct impression Claire was actively trying to soften her stance, as if she thought she’d been harsh and was now backing off.
“Okay, well, just let her know I checked on her.”
“Will do.” Claire gave her one nod, went into the room, and the door clicked shut behind her.
Rowan stood there for another moment, frowning. Was Claire a bodyguard now? Why did she get to decide who got to see Evie? She blew out an irritated breath and finally turned to go into her own room and get her bathing suit on.
Women were so fucking weird.
Rowan had no recollection of buying the bathing suit she’d put on, which was strange.
Any clothing she’d purchased in the past couple of years was new to her, which was kind of fun, actually.
But this was a black one-piece that looked pretty good on her, so a pleasant discovery.
She realized belatedly that if she planned to swim out to the floating raft thingy, she couldn’t bring anything with her—cell phone, book to read, not even a towel—that she didn’t want to get wet.
It would basically just be her, and suddenly, she was one hundred percent okay with that.
On her phone, she sent a quick text to her mom, letting her know everything was fine and that Sara was arriving today.
Her mother loved Stevie and loved Sara even more, so her presence would make Rowan’s mother feel that much better about her being away from home.
Then she plugged her phone in, slathered herself in waterproof sunscreen, tied her auburn hair on top of her head, grabbed a towel to leave on shore, and headed downstairs.
She had to force herself, but she managed to not even glance at Evie’s bedroom door, which was still closed.
Downstairs, Stevie and Lizzie were sitting at the table eating breakfast.
“Catch anything?” she asked as she passed the table.
“Three rainbow trout, a smallmouth bass, and an old sneaker.” Stevie shrugged.
“Was it at least a Nike?”
“Puma.”
“Lame.”
“Where’re you headed?” Stevie caught her eye, and Rowan knew she was trying to check on her without actually sounding like she was checking on her.
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought I’d see if I could find a lawn mower and take care of the yard.
” When Stevie blinked at her in confusion, she laughed and indicated the bathing suit she was wearing.
“I’m going swimming, weirdo. What do you think I’m doing?
” With a soft laugh and a shake of her head, she left the house and walked down to the shore.
The water was chillier than she’d expected, given how hot the past week or two had been, but once she was in, she got used to it pretty quickly.
She hadn’t forgotten how to swim, and she settled into an easy breaststroke.
Didn’t take her longer than a couple minutes to reach the floating dock, which had a convenient aluminum ladder fastened to it.
She climbed it, stood up on the wooden surface, hands on her hips, and just gazed out at the lake.