“And we’ll have to have them, as well,” Nana said, picking up a piece of toast and putting in on her plate. “Matthew, let’s plan on that. A thank-you dinner. I’ll talk to the desk about booking a table at the Club.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said quickly. While Bailey would lose her mind at the prospect, I could only imagine everyone else would be less than enthused.
“I think it’s the least we can do since they took such goodcare of you. Ask Mimi what night is good, will you? And how many will be coming. The more the merrier.”
My phone beeped, the sound distant in my purse, which was on the back of my chair. Nana, who hated screens at the table, gave it a pointed look, making it clear I should not check it. So I didn’t.
“I’ll talk to her,” I said instead. “But she’s really busy with the motel and everything.”
“All the more reason for a nice dinner out,” Nana replied as, outside, a large boat puttered across the water, pulling a float behind it. “Now, what’s the plan for today? Pool? Lake? A nap?”
“I vote pool,” Tracy said. “Although once I eat, I have a feeling a nap might win out.”
“They both sound good to me,” I said. “I’ll get settled and then decide.”
“Perfect. Your room is the one at the end of the hall, with the twin bed.”
I smiled, thanking her again, then grabbed my purse and headed that way. My room was small, but immaculate, everything white—walls, floor, sheets, and comforter. A fan turned slowly overhead. I walked around the bed, to the sheer white curtain, pulling it aside to reveal yet another sliding glass door with the patio beyond it. Another room with a view of the lake. If it was all the same, really, why did it feel so different?
It was a question I was still asking myself, these two days later, as the elevator opened again, depositing me in the emptyhallway outside our room. My dad, Tracy, and Nana had easily moved into vacation mode and a schedule of late breakfast, pool, naps, and dinners at the hotel restaurant, but I was still getting adjusted. It didn’t help that out every window was the lake, and the other side: from this height, through the big hallway window, I could actually sort of make out Mimi’s house if I squinted. And I did, every morning.
I waved my key at the door, heard the click, and then pushed it open. Nana had not emerged from her room, and my dad and Tracy, swearing they needed to work off all the great Greek food they ate on their honeymoon, had gone out for a morning run. The quiet made my phone sound even louder as it signaled a new message.
Without even looking, I knew it was Bailey. Despite the fact that we hadn’t exactly left things on the best note, she’d texted me at least five times since I’d left Mimi’s. Our fight was still on my mind, but she had apparently gotten over it.
Promised I’d take Gordon tubing early afternoon. You in?
As coercion went, this was next-level. It was one thing to claim to want to hang out with me: another, entirely, to bring Gordon into it. As she intended, though, it gave me pause, especially after the conversation I’d had with Trinity the day before.
“You’ve got to come over here and see Gordon,” she’d announced in lieu of a hello. “She’s driving me nuts.”
“Trinity?” I asked.
“I mean, if she could go back to camp, it would be different,” she continued. “But instead she’s home and sulkingaround. I’m a sitting target because I am literally bed-bound. You need to do something.”
“Me?” I said. “I’m on the other side of the lake.”
“It’s three miles,” she pointed out. “Also, can you take me to birth class this afternoon? Everyone else is working.”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I’m kind of stuck here with my family.”
“I amalsoyour family,” she said. “Remember?”
I sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Which had turned out to be not much, as my dad was determined to use the time we had together to bond us as a new family. While Nana stayed in the A/C of the room, reading, he was busy organizing activities to the point that I was, honestly, kind of exhausted. We’d done mini golf, attended a Pavilion concert (beach music, surprise!), and taken part in a low-country boil the Tides staff arranged on the beach for all the guests. But today was what I’d been dreading.
“An easy morning on the water,” my dad had said the night before, presenting this idea as we sat on the wooden beach chairs, our plates of shrimp, potatoes, and sausage on our laps. “I reserved a day sailer and a picnic lunch from the kitchen. We’ll just tool around, then find a beach to pull up to for a bit to swim and eat.”
“Wait,” I said, “are we all doing this or just you guys?”
“All of us,” he replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I mean, we three. Not Nana. She’s never been a boat person.”
“Neither have I,” I pointed out.
“You said before you were out on boats all the time withyour cousins these last few weeks,” he reminded me.
“Motorboats,” I corrected him. “And that was just transportation. Sailing is different.”
