As she pulled him in, Avery noticed Paulson smelled like leather and rain. Luxurious sadness. He let go and mustered up a too-bright smile. She put on a similar face when she needed to find something positive.
“I’m going to tell Dad there is too much granite here and we will have a fight on our hands with the environmentalists,” he said. “I’ll call Miles to say I heard he was the other interested party and let him know we’re backing out. I won’t mention I saw you. This property’s sat abandoned for a few years; Miles should lowball them.”
“I think he’d like getting that call.” She whistled for Casper, who came running back with his stick.
Paulson picked up a piece of trash off the ground and stuffed it in his pocket. Something about the insignificant gesture reminded Avery of Miles. She hoped he came around. Paulson needed a friend.
“Okay, I have to go.” Paulson pointed back and forth at Avery and Casper. “You two never saw me.”
Avery nodded. “Bye, Paulson.”
“Hey,” he said. “Text me when you’re in New York. I owe you a drink at Bemelman’s.”
She stuck out her hand and he shook it.
“Deal.”
“Miles is lucky to have you. You’re a good friend.” A warm smile passed between them.
“You are too.” She patted his arm. It might have sounded hollow, but she hoped he knew she meant it.
Paulson chucked the stick into the bow of the canoe and winkedat Avery as Casper jumped in. Five minutes later, as she paddled past the Red House, Avery stopped and floated, lost in thought. Finding and keeping friends was so much harder once you got older. She wondered what it would be like if she, Paulson, Miles, Nate, and Lily stayed friends as adults. Maybe Hayes and Anna Catherine too, although she had never met them, and they probably didn’t need more friends. They were welcome to join this fictional friend group that gathered at the lake every so often to jump off docks, paddle to islands, and toast one another.
She didn’t notice the sliding door of the Red House open, but she heard it close. Out walked Miles in a pair of Ray-Bans, a bottle of chocolate milk in one hand. He swept the sunglasses off his face fighter-pilot style, furrowed his brow, and craned his neck, as if checking to see if she was real.
Avery gulped, partially because she had just told someone about his camp and partially because Miles was wearing shorts that showed off the long, toned legs of a runner. Not just any runner, a former sub-four miler.
“Welcome to the Red House.” Miles held his arms out wide like he couldn’t believe his luck. Confidence burst out of him. “Someone special once proclaimed it the best house on the lake, so I bought it. Bramble Beach and Loon Cove came with it.”
Avery felt heat rise in her cheeks. This was what she got for choosing this spot to daydream about adult friendships.
He finished his milk and set the empty bottle on a table next to a lounge chair.
She studied Miles and his Red House, the triangular roof of the A-frame sloping down the ground behind him. He’d made every change she’d suggested. Sliding doors, a new deck that spanned the width of the front of house, and below it, a new two-level dock with navy chaise lounges. She’d suggested lobster pillows, but he’d argued lobsters didn’t live in lakes. A silly argument between two young people, neither of whom expected to ever own the house, had finally been resolved. He’dchosen white pillows, each with a pine tree and star, mimicking the Maine state flag. Perfect.
Miles crouched and grabbed the canoe to avoid a dock bump, then reached in and rubbed behind Casper’s ears.
“You always loved this house.” His maple-syrup eyes met hers. “I’m trying to do right by it. You had such good ideas for it a decade ago.”
Avery glanced at the house. He’d made her vision real, and something about that felt both sad and sweet. She didn’t know what to say, so she opted for graciously accepting the truth.
“It’ll never be mine, so I’m glad it’s yours.”
“You don’t believe in never. That’s how you made a fortune in stationery.” He smiled. “How about if I give you the right of first refusal if I sell?”
“Okay.” She giggled. He lived near his best friend on the lake he’d once said held his favorite memories. She was genuinely happy for him. “You finally get to live across the cove from Nate.”
“Yeah, and check this out.” He walked over to a large, round light with flaps on it and turned a knob, flipping the flaps up and down. “Nate and I got Morse code lanterns.”
“That’s super nerdy.” She laughed.
“Not to mention horribly inefficient,” he said. “Most times we flash them and then text one another.” He closed the flaps and walked back to the canoe. “How ’bout I give you a tour of the inside and you help me pick a backsplash? I’ll pay you in chocolate milk.”
“I haven’t had chocolate milk in ten years.” She smirked. It was just one item on a long list of reminders of Miles she’d avoided.
“You swore off chocolate milk?” He clutched at his chest as if pierced by an arrow and stumbled backwards. “Oof! That hits hard.”
“Drama king.” Avery lifted her paddle and splashed him. “I can’t stay long. Thanks to you, the phones have been ringing off the hook.”
