Page 2 of Barefoot Lake

Baby Mine,

If you’re reading this, we both know what happened to me. Don’t cry, sweet girl. I was living on borrowed time and I’m so lucky to have spent it with you. You are and have always been my greatest pride and my best friend.

I’m sorry. I tell you not to cry, and then I get sentimental. This isn’t meant to be a posthumous good bye. I just couldn’t imagine you coming here without me being here to welcome you, even if just on paper.

The house itself is still a treasure, and so is this town. The lake is beautiful, and the people are good — you’ll be hard-pressed to find many better. Let them love you, trust me.

The house itself is… well, it’s weird. I hope you love it while you’re here, the same way I did. If you decide to sell, make sure you say the house has “charm.” That’s the polite way of saying it’s old and temperamental.

I’ve left some sticky notes around with tips on how to handle the quirks of the place, but I’m sure you’ll figure it all out with time.

Oh! The side door sticks. I didn’t leave a note on that because I have no suggestions on how to make it behave. It’s just a crotchety old curmudgeon of a door. Some things can’t be changed.

I bought this place to find peace and it delivered. I hope it can do the same for you.

I love you always,

Mom

I set down the letter and wipe my hands across my wet cheeks as I lean back in the chair.

I miss my mom.

CHAPTER 2

Alice

Iweasel my phone out of my pocket and call Piper. She answers after a single ring.

“Hey. Are you ok?” Her voice is softer than usual, like she’s talking to a baby animal.

Piper is always loud, like an explosion of happy, so hearing her be so gentle with me tugs at my heartstrings. When Piper cares, she cares with her whole being.

“I’m at the lake house,” I blurt. There’s a beat of silence on the line.

“WHAT?!” And that’s the volume I know and love from Piper. She pauses maybe half a second at most before her voice flips to absolute venom. “What did he do?”

“He did nothing, Pipe. He did nothing.” I sigh and carry on. “I got home, and he wasn’t even there. He said that since I spread her ashes in the ocean already, it wasn’t even a real funeral, and he didn’t get what the big deal was.”

Her gasp is audible. “He did not!”

“Well, technically, he said I ‘dumped’ her in the ocean, so…”

“That walnut-brained fucker.” The way she huffs tells me she has many more things she’d like to call Reid. “Damn. So, what exactly… you know… happened?”

“We fought, again. It was bad. He — it doesn’t matter. It was bad. I told him to get out, and he left.”

“And you’re at the lake house because…?” Piper sounds hopeful.

“He didn’t come back, and I haven’t heard from him. He wouldn’t answer my calls. So, I woke up this morning, packed what would fit in my car, and left.”

“Are you going back?” Piper is being gentle again.

An irrational laugh barks out of me. “I left the ring on the nightstand and shoved the key under the door after I locked up. I’m never going back there.”

Cheers explode from the other end of the phone line, and the two of us descend into a fit of giggles. Piper has never liked Reid, so her reaction isn’t unexpected. I’m a bit surprised laughter already comes so easily for me, but if I’m being honest, I haven’t felt any positive emotion toward Reid for a while.

As I compose myself, I feel the relief that comes from not being shamed for making a life-changing decision. My logical brain knew there was no chance Piper would ever judge me for leaving Reid, but hearing her support means the world.