“It’s happening all over the lake, though,” Clark said. “Just last year someone bought Ruckey’s, one of the oldest motels there was. Put waterfront mansions there. With separate garages!”
Judging by the expression of disgust that followed from both him and Lana, this was especially offensive. “For what it’s worth,” Cardoon offered, “I did not see anything on the plans about garages.”
Lana, clearly not consoled, pushed herself to her feet. “I need another beer.”
“You have one in your hand,” Clark pointed out, but she was already heading toward the platform, weaving slightly, the yacht club guys and the sunglasses watching.
“Should we—” I began to ask, but before I could finish, Cardoon was on it. He had to jog a bit, though, until he caught up to fall into step beside her.
“Poor guy,” Clark observed. “At least he finally got her number. Took him long enough.”
“I was sensing a bit of a vibe,” I said. “At least from his direction.”
“It’s been going on for a couple of summers now.” He started to take a sip of his cup, then made a face and dumped the contents on the sand. “Looked like it might happen after that au pair, but then she met some guy from California who was down here for a waterskiing thing. With him over at the Egg so much now, though, this might be his year.”
Up on the platform, Ben, Hector, and the girl with the banjo were now starting to play again. “It’s got to be kind of weird,” I said. “Being friendly with the same place that’s buying everyone out.”
“Just how it is,” he replied. “This? Used to be the only nice public beach at the lake. There was ahugestink when they decided to build the Pavilion. People were pissed. But that’s progress.”
“Or, um,” I said, nodding at a nearby pile of planks and concrete, “not.”
“They’ll put something else here eventually. There’s only so much land. The Woods is one of the last big parcels.”
“It’s weird to think of a bunch of time-shares there,” I told him.
“Had to be something.” He sat back. “My point is, everything changes. You have a choice: Make it hard or make it work. And there’s enough hard shit already.”
Well put,I thought. “You should put that on a sticker. I’d buy one.”
“New business opportunity!” He grinned. “Maybe I will.”
Just then, there was some kind of commotion over by the keg. All I could see were backs, though, as immediately people began gathering around. Clark hopped up on the plank where he’d been sitting, squinting. “Uh-oh.”
“What’s going on?”
“Because I was there first, that’s why! Already filling my cup!” I heard a girl’s voice yelling distantly. “Does anyone here even havemanners?”
The crowd parted. Then Cardoon was heading toward us, holding Lana by one shoulder. “Bit of a difference of opinion about turns at the keg,” he said calmly as she twisted, her face angry, trying to stare down someone behind her. “A beer might have been thrown.”
“I was defending myself!” Lana protested, stumbling slightly. Clark took her other arm. “And I’m pretty sure I missed anyway.”
“What happened?” Ben asked as he came toward us, dodging around a bunch of kids in matching blue Youth Group tees who were rubbernecking.
“The short version?” Clark replied. “We’re going.”
“Got it,” Ben said. “Just give me a sec.”
He turned back toward the platform. Clark began to steer Lana toward the walkway, which took a moment as she’d slumped against Cardoon, who was still propping her up from the other side.
The four of us made our way clumsily back to the lot. It took a while, as Lana’s dragging feet were slowing everything down. Then I had to scramble for her shoes as they fell off, firstone, then the other. Finally, we reached the car, where I climbed into the backseat first before the boys eased her in beside me. When the door shut, she fell into my lap. She smelled like sweat and beer. I just let her stay there.
“Trunk!” I heard Ben yell. Once Clark popped it, he quickly put in his guitar, banging it shut before hopping into the passenger seat. “Better hit it. There’s a wet girl right behind me who isnothappy.”
Clark reversed quickly out of the space, heading toward the road. I turned to look out the back window, expecting Lana’s drenched victim. But there was only Cardoon in his uniform. He lifted a hand to me and I waved back. Then we took a turn and he was gone.
At the house, I gathered Lana’s shoes and phone as the boys got her out of the car and up the porch steps. By the time I got to our room, she was already on the bed, curled up in her signature ball, knees to chest, head ducked down. Remembering my own experience, I pulled the trash can over before I went out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.
Outside I found Ben on the steps. Ahead the moon was reflected in the water, full and dazzling. “Where’s Clark?”
