Marissa
At first glance, the lake house appears frozen in time.
It’s just as I remember it: wooden blue slats, navy shutters, and hulking beams, with a second-floor balcony that wraps around the entire perimeter.
Moss-green trees line the front yard, and through the leaves, I catch a glimpse of shimmering water.
My mind conjures an image of the spacious backyard, the dock at the far tip of it.
I can practically feel the crisp water, the hot sting of a metal canoe against my bare thighs.
I feel like I’m nine years old again, eager to dump my backpack at the foot of the stairs before racing through the kitchen and out to the backyard.
Not wanting to waste a single minute of summer vacation.
That sense of childlike excitement has been fluttering in my chest since we drove past the brown WELCOME TO THE POCONO MOUNTAINS sign a few miles back.
It’s a new but happy addition to the town, and the sight of it fills me with sweet anticipation.
Every billboard we passed teased what lay ahead: kayak lessons and fly-fishing, boat tours and bike rentals.
The road grew curved and narrow, bracketed by a canopy of sunlight-dappled trees as we ascended higher and higher into the mountains.
The closer we got, the more the knot in my chest loosened.
I felt exactly like I did all those years ago, heading to my grandma’s house and armed with the knowledge that I had the whole summer and its unlimited possibilities ahead of me. Sure, my possibilities have narrowed over the years. But maybe this is an opportunity to find new ones.
I’d glanced at Isla in the rearview mirror as we drove past the welcome sign, checking her face to see if she shared my enthusiasm.
That was a negative. She’d spent the entire drive from the airport with her arms crossed, staring out the window in sulky silence.
The only sign she seemed to notice was the William Shatner billboard urging us to BOLDLY GO.
“Would if I could,” she’d mumbled under her breath.
The lake house is tucked into a private neighborhood called the Hideaway, which feels a bit on the nose given the circumstances of our visit.
But right now, I’m grateful for the amenities, which include a security guard and gated entrance.
I doubt anyone here is going to bother us, but after the mayhem we just fled, it gives me some measure of comfort.
As we entered the tree-lined neighborhood, I’d pointed out all the things it has to offer: a pool, tennis courts, a clubhouse with a small miniature golf course.
My enthusiasm went unmatched, the silence from the back seat deafening. We are not off to a strong start.
“Is someone here?” Isla’s voice shakes me out of my daydream.
I blink a few times before registering that we’re still seated in the parked car.
I follow her gaze to the gray pickup truck parked at the other end of the circular driveway.
There’s a ladder protruding from the bed and decal letters spell out LEGACY BUILDERS on the trunk door.
A sense of unease creeps through my pores.
“That’s the company I hired to repair the floors,” I say slowly. “I thought they’d already finished, but maybe they’re doing a final walk-through.”
I glance back at Isla, whose gaze has moved beyond the driveway, squinting at the sliver of blue water that peeks through the trees. I can tell she’s excited to explore but too annoyed with me to admit it.
“Why don’t we go inside and take a look around, then grab our bags later?” I suggest.
Isla catches the optimistic look in my eyes and matches it with an I-don’t-give-a-crap shrug.
She’s steadfastly maintained her grudge against me ever since I announced the change in summer plans a few weeks ago.
(“Pennsylvania?” she’d repeated skeptically.
“What are we going to do all summer? Milk cows?”) No matter what I told her about the lake and its beaches and the gorgeous sunsets, she insisted it wouldn’t make up for missing Cabo.
In fairness, she’d been looking forward to that trip for months.
Nevertheless, she unbuckles her seatbelt and steps out of the car as I walk around to the other side to help Levi.
Then, she disappears through the trees, gravel crunching beneath her sneakers as she heads straight for the backyard.
I find myself aching to follow her, to tear off my shoes and feel the grass between my toes as I make my way to the dock.
But I’m a grown-up now, and my priority is to get everyone settled.
There will be time. The lake isn’t going anywhere.
From outside the house, I can hear the buzz of machinery, so I quickly confirm Levi’s headphones are in my tote before taking him by the hand and leading him through the front door.
My first impression is that the house hasn’t changed a bit in the past twenty years.
The wood-paneled walls of the kitchen extend to the brick-lined living room.
Ancient, neutral-toned furniture fills both spaces.
The only notable update is the tarp sheet draped over the sofa.
That, and the figure crouched in the far-right corner of the living room.
He’s wearing a pair of leather headphones and rolling a sanding machine across the floor.
Shit. The repairs were supposed to be finished by now, but by the looks of it, there’s still plenty of work to do. This is … not ideal.
Levi lets out a little whimper at the ruckus. He digs into my tote bag, grabbing the headphones and clapping them over his ears.
“Excuse me?” I call from the doorway. The sound of my voice is swallowed by the high-pitched whine of the machine, the man operating it still oblivious to my presence.
“Hello?” I try again, a little bit louder this time, and take a step toward him. He doesn’t hear me at first, but Levi, now fully agitated, lets out an earsplitting yelp before burying his face in the back of my legs. The man whirls around, eyes wide with surprise, and switches off the machine.
“Whoa, sorry!” he apologizes as he tugs off his own set of headphones, dropping them around his neck. “I didn’t hear you guys come in.”
I quickly appraise the man in front of me.
He’s broad and stocky, with a dark, bushy beard that’s graying in a few places and a thick coating of hair on his forearms. His face splits into a wide smile and when his eyes crinkle in the corners, they’re so innately warm and unthreatening that I immediately feel my body relax.
It’s an odd feeling, because I am never relaxed around strangers.
“That’s okay,” I say. “But I think there may have been a miscommunication. I was under the impression that the floors were already finished.”
“Yeah, that’s my bad,” he says, the corners of his smile drooping. He combs a hand through his beard. “My daughter had a stomach bug last week and it ended up tearing through the whole house. Put us a week behind. But we should be wrapped up by next Friday. We do apologize for the inconvenience.”
A whole week? A pit of dread forms in my stomach. This is a nightmare. How are we supposed to cohabitate with a noisy construction project for that long?
He brushes a thick hand on his pant leg and then extends it toward me.
“Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Toby. Lead carpenter for Legacy Builders.”
I give his hand a shake. “Marissa Morganstern. Pleasure to meet you.” I intentionally use my real name instead of my stage one. I don’t want to be a movie star here. I just want to be a regular person, primed to enjoy the summer like everyone else.
Unfortunately, it isn’t a sufficient cover, because recognition immediately dawns in his eyes.
“Oh, you’re the movie star who’s in for the summer! My wife has been talking my ear off about it. Congratulations on your engagement, by the way!”
“No, that’s not me, actually. It’s—”
“Shelby is convinced it’s a shotgun wedding. Such a cynic, that one.” His gaze drops to my belly. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her she was way off base about you being pregnant.”
My mouth falls open. Naturally, this is the exact moment Isla swings through the back door.
“You’re pregnant?” she squeals. “How is that possible? Who’s the father? The only person you ever hang out with is Aunt Pooja.”
Well, that went downhill fast. I take a slow, steadying breath, willing myself to keep it together.
Toby has the decency to look mortified. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t spoil any family announcement—my wife, she’s always saying I never know when to shut my trap. It’s just that once I get to talking, I—”
“Geez, Toby, leave the poor woman alone.” I swivel around at the sound of a deep voice behind me.
Standing in the doorway is a man so attractive that my breath hitches.
My eyes drink in each of his features one by one.
The mop of loose brown curls spilling over his forehead.
The full, pink lips outlined in a closely trimmed beard.
Eyes of an indeterminable shade, a stormy mix of blues and grays.
Even though his words were directed to Toby, his gaze is focused solely on me.
Our eyes lock for a long beat before I manage to tear mine away, tracing down the length of his body as I take in the rest of him.
He’s dressed in a faded T-shirt and paint-speckled jeans that hug the muscles of his thighs.
Most damning of all, there’s a toolbelt wrapped around his hips that’s doing way more for me than any toolbelt has the right to.