Epilogue
Dear fifteen-year-old Clara,
Hello from your much older self.
It’s currently 12:24 a.m. and I am sitting here on the boathouse deck overlooking Pine Lake. This is still your absolute favorite place in the world. Soon, it’s going to be your full-time home. Mack and I have started painting the inside of Bag End, and we’ll hopefully be moved in there by late September.
Right now, there is a stack of chairs to deal with, and tables to return to the vendor tomorrow morning. I/you forgot to tip the caterers, too. But we’ll worry about all of that later.
Tonight, for some reason, I felt called to sit here in front of the lake and write to you.
Maybe it’s because it’s been a whole year since I first read your letter to me. Tonight, we just finished up the first wedding here at Pine Lake, and it went off without a hitch. I can still see all the wish boats the guests put in the lake, twinkling off in the distance.
It was beautiful, and magical, and so full of joy. I’m learning on my feet, of course. I don’t totally know what I am doing, planning actual events. And I may be doing it all wrong! But that’s what I love most about it. The trust people place in me, to do my best for them.
The trust I have to have in myself.
Next month, we’re hosting a memorial service for a family in town, whose dad grew up on this lake. I can’t think of a more meaningful way to use this place in the off-season.
Right now, all the guests are back in their cabins. Mack just dropped Eloise and Linus off at the Honeymoon Suite via motorboat. He worked on it all year, and it’s stunning—a private, romantic one-room cabin, with an outdoor shower and gorgeous views of the water. Most importantly, it’s far away from everyone else, right where the original camp buildings used to be.
Cuz, you know. Newlyweds should have some privacy.
Sam’s here with Olive—who is about to walk and can already say “hi!”—and Nick brought a date!!! A very sweet guy he met online, and Trey seemed completely fine with it. No drama was detected. Trey hung out with Lydia for most of the night when she wasn’t helping me, and last I saw they were on their way to do karaoke in Sunrise. (That’s where the after-party is, no surprise there.)
She’s been working for me remotely, helping to coordinate our first season of events here, and might come up through the fall. We’re still figuring it all out.
But the most important thing is that you’re here. I’m here.
With the people who mean the world to us.
I think that is what you would have wanted.
No, I know it is.
I still try to listen to your words and follow your advice, but it’s funny—I’ve almost stopped thinking about it. All your hopes, everything you wanted—those things are just a part of me now. Starting my own business is scary every freaking day. But there’s joy everywhere.
And Mack has been with me through every single second of it.
I wish I could go back in time and tell you that you got the life you thought you should be living.
It’s filled with so much love, laughter, and the occasional disagreement.
(I mean, I am living with Mack, after all.)
You’ll just have to trust me—trust us, I guess—we did it. I’m proud of us.
So. I’m signing off because our handsome, very sexy, passionate lover-turned-boyfriend is demanding we deal with storing the chairs tomorrow, and instead go for a late-night swim out to the diving dock. Right now he’s pacing around inside the boathouse and making Noodle anxious.
(Noodle is eighty pounds of pit bull and husky and a giant scaredy-cat who occasionally pees when he gets excited, but we love him.)
Mack thinks he’s being smooth, but last week I found a small red box tucked inside his box full of his letters from campers.
And if it’s what I think it is, and he asks, I’m going to say yes.
Remember—I love you.
XO, Me/You/Clara