“When I was seventeen.” I give Nan a meaningful look. She hasn’t said anything, but she must have connected Charlie with the yellow boat in my photo.
“Really? I would have been nineteen. I was here that summer.”
“Then that makes three of us,” I say.
“Huh.” Charlie lifts his wine to his lips. He’s still on his first glass, whereas I’ve had…um? Several?
We’re almost done eating when I see that Charlie has painted a thumb purple. Something in my chest twinges.
“I thought I’d better stop there before I made a real mess of it,” Charlie says when he catches me staring at his hand.
I smile, but my heart is beating faster than usual. It’s probably the wine. It probably has nothing to do with the fact that despite our being an odd trio, the conversation hasn’t died all evening. Or that Charlie is unpredictable in the best way. Or that I haven’tlaughed so hard in ages. Or how effusively Charlie praises my lasagna, calling it the most glorious combination of tomato sauce, noodles, and various cheeses. Or that he clears the table, three plates a time, then washes the dishes, refusing help.
He returns holding the cake, with a single candle in the center. I raise my camera, committing Charlie in a tiara and glitter, singing “Happy Birthday,” to film.
It’s a dark chocolate sour cream cake with chocolate buttercream, and sweet mother, it is good. I make an obscene sound when I take my first bite.
“You canbake,” I say with my mouth full.
Charlie grins. It’s a boyish smile, dimpled and delighted. It’s his real smile.
“You made this?” Nan asks.
“It was my mom’s recipe.”
“It’s incredible,” I go on. “It’s moist and rich, but not too rich. Or too sweet. It’s like really,reallygood.”
“Excellent,” Nan agrees. “I’d love the recipe.”
Charlie beams at my grandmother. “My mom would have been thrilled to hear that.”
The twinge in my chest returns, only stronger now.
“I think she would have been thrilledyoumade it,” Nan says.
I’m still gushing about the cake when a horn interrupts me.
Aaaah-whoooo-gaaaaah!
“Oh shit.” Charlie looks at me, wild-eyed. “They’re here.”
19
“Who’s here?” I ask. I rise from the table to look out the window.
The clouds have parted, leaving red streaks across a slate-blue sky. It’s starting to grow dark, but there are countless boats on the lake, all heading in the same direction. Charlie’s drifts just out from our dock, and there are two people inside. I glance at him over my shoulder.
“My brother and his wife.”
“How lovely,” Nan says.
Judging from the look on Charlie’s face, he doesn’t agree.
“What are they doing here?”
“Wreaking havoc. I’ll go get rid of them.”
“Whatever for?” Nan says, but he’s already on his way outside.
