“Thirty-two, actually.”
“Bennett has a good head and a good mom. She’ll be okay.”
Heather takes a deep breath. “You’re probably right.”
I put my arm around her waist. “You know what you need?”
“A martini.”
“I got you gin, but no.” I kiss her cheek. “You, my dear sister, need a ride on a Pegasus-unicorn.”
Bennett, Heather, and I are drifting on the inflatable loungers while Nan watches from the deck with a cup of tea.
My niece wears a loose T-shirt over her bathing suit, even in the water. It reminds me of the summer I spent here. Mom had taken me on a shopping trip before I left, a rare occasion when it was just the two of us. I was giddy, hopped up on sugar from the milkshakes we’d eaten in the food court, and picked out my first two-piece bathing suit, a tankini that showed the smallest sliver of stomach. By the time I got to Barry’s Bay, my confidence had evaporated. I wore it under a terry cloth dress that I removed a second before I jumped into the lake and shoved back over my head as soon as I was out.
Heather, on the other hand, is wearing a magenta-pink one-shouldered suit with cutouts at the waist and has the poise of someone about to board a yacht. Everything about her says,Notice me, though Heather doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of her. Kind of like Charlie.
I haven’t heard from him since he got back today, if he’s back, and my gaze keeps traveling to his house.
“Forget the martini,” Heather says. “I need something with an umbrella in it. This is divine.”
“I wish you could stay for the week, Mom,” Bennett says.
Heather’s face is guilt-stricken. “I wish I could, but I’ve got…”
“I know,” Bennett says. “Work.” She doesn’t sound bitter, just bummed. I’ll remind Heather later what a gift it is that her teenage daughter wants her around.
“I have some news,” I say to change the subject. “I’ve decided not to participate in the show. I pulled my photo.”
Heather looks at me, aghast.
“Give me a second,” I say, before she launches into an opening argument. “I’ve been shooting while I’ve been here. It started out as just for fun, but I think some of what I’ve done might be good.”
Over the last two days, I’ve combed through what I’ve shot digitally. The photos are much more relaxed than my typical work. More natural. There’s one of Nan, a teacup and saucer in her hand, her head thrown back in a laugh, the afternoon sun slanting over her face. She’s utterly captivating. Charlie isn’t in the frame, but he was the one making her smile.
There are dozens, possibly hundreds, of photos of him, too. But I scrolled through them quickly. I was afraid of missing him even more if I lingered too long on the light in his eyes or the way he grins at me through the lens.
“Actually,” I amend, “I think they might be great.”
Heather blinks at me for a moment, and then she claps her hands. “Tell us everything.”
I explain to Heather and Bennett how I feel like my job has become almost entirely about getting someone else’s version of the ideal shot. I tell them I’ve been so focused on pleasing clients and photo editors that I forgot how to please myself along the way.
Heather gives me a look, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing. An entire conversation passes between us without speaking. The way I’ve approached work is just like how I’ve approached relationships.
“But something’s changed since I’ve been here,” I say. The photos I’ve taken at the lake are so much looser. There’s skill in what I can achieve with a set, a lighting assistant, hair and makeup.But there’s an unscripted kind of magic in shooting from my heart. I follow my instincts, not a meticulously planned brief. And, sure, some of the shots aren’t any good, and they’re far from flawless, but even the mediocre images are rich with emotion. Photos of Nan. The water. Charlie’s yellow boat flying across the bay. Memories of this second golden summer.
It feels like I’ve come full circle.
“Wow,” Bennett says when I finish speaking.
Heather lets out a whoop and gets to her knees, shimmying on the Pegasus-unicorn and clapping her hands over her head. “I haven’t heard you talk so passionately about your work in ages,” she says.
“I wouldn’t have thought she’d be able to do that on there,” I say to Bennett.
“Nothing keeps Mom from her victory dance.”
I laugh, but then I see a familiar figure across the bay, and heat washes over my body. My heart begins to trip over itself. He waves, and I wave back.
