“Youlaugh, Alice. You laugh that big, beautiful laugh of yours. And you’re more like yourself when you’re together. You’re always so busy taking care of everyone and making people happy, but you’re different around Charlie. There’s a lightness to you I haven’t seen in a long time—like you have the freedom to justbewhen you’re with him.”
“That’s just because I’m on vacation.”
Nan slants her head. “No, it’s because when you speak, he listens. When you smile, he smiles. When you need something, he offers help. When you give him something, he thanks you. You’re peas and carrots—I think you’ve found yourself a lifelong friend.”
My mouth goes dry. The connection Charlie and I have seemsspecial, but hearing Nan say it solidifies what I’ve been feeling. I’m not sure what’s going to happen between us, but it’s real.
“What if I wanted more than friendship? But something more…” I’ve confided in Nan about so many things—hopes, fears, secrets, dreams. But I’ve never talked to her about sex. “Something more casual than a relationship?”
Her blue eyes meet mine over her glasses. “I can see your wheels spinning, but try not to worry about it too much, Alice. You never know—it might turn into a great romance.”
“You’re just saying that because you like him so much.”
“I like Charlie a great deal, but I’m saying that because I see you together, and it reminds me of what it felt like to fall in love.”
I swallow, and Nan pats my hand. “Just see where the sun takes you. And don’t forget: Good things happen at the lake.”
27
Sunday, July 20
43 Days Left at the Lake
When I park beside a black Porsche at the grocery store later that morning, what happens in my body is more than nerves and headier than excitement. I’m full of volatile energy. I’ve been operating on autopilot for months, and now I’ve been switched on. It’s pure anticipation. Something I haven’t felt in years.
And while I’m prepared to run into a preposterously handsome marble statue of a man, I don’t expect to find him staring at the baskets of pickling cucumbers again.
“What is with you and this vegetable?”
“Technically, cucumbers are a fruit.” Charlie looks down at me, his gaze fond. His hair is mussed, standing on end at the front. I almost reach out to smooth the spikes down. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, his eyes have dark shadows beneath them, and I’m pretty sure he was wearing the same T-shirt yesterday. He’s the hottest of trash.
“You look awful.”
“I didn’t sleep.” He gives me a meaningful look that I feel low in my belly.
“Really? I had the best sleep I’ve had in ages. Nan found me passed out on the couch this morning.”
The corner of his mouth lifts.
“So,” I say, inspecting the produce. A bucket of lacy dill stalks sits on the floor with a handwrittenLocalsign stuck in their midst. “Are you going to give any of these cucumbers a good home or what?”
“I haven’t decided.” He rubs the back of his neck. “My mom made the best dill pickles. I’ve been thinking about giving them a try, but I haven’t pickled anything in my life.”
He’s been dipping into Sue’s recipe box. After the chocolate cake, he brought Nan and me her morning glory muffins and then cabbage rolls. Both were excellent.
Charlie has his arms crossed over his chest, and he’s staring down the cucumbers like he’s facing an opponent in a Roman amphitheater.
I pick up two baskets and put them in my cart. “How many do we need?”
Charlie’s eyebrows creep up his forehead. “Really?”
“Yeah. How hard can it be?” I choose a stalk of dill. “I’m sure Nan would like to help. She’s good at this stuff.” I pause at the mystified expression on Charlie’s face. “Unless you want to do it alone?” Maybe the cooking thing is between him and his mom.
“No,” he says, voice rusty. “I’d love the help.”
When Nan and I arrive at Charlie’s house in the afternoon, he’s much brighter. He’s taken a nap, showered, and shaved. He’s evenhad his hair buzzed short. He helps Nan up the porch stairs, and the sight burrows into my heart so deeply that I avert my gaze.
“Would you like a cup of tea first?” Charlie asks Nan. The kitchen is covered in canning gear.
