Lost Lake

by Sarah Addison Allen

  The moment she did, the hysterics started again.

  Eby looked good, and Marilee hated her for it. And whenever little Quinn got too near Eby, cautiously happy to see her, Marilee would pull her away and tell her that her father would be alive if it weren’t for Aunt Eby. It took three days of sleeping on the couch, wearing the same clothes, for Eby to finally look sufficiently bad enough for Marilee.

  In the days they spent apart, George arranged for a tombstone for Talbert. He had already been buried, but there had been no memorial service, so George organized one for him. George also met with a realtor to find Marilee a home. Lastly, he destroyed the dresser, burning it outside and burying the marble top under the magnolia tree in their backyard.

  The night of the memorial service, George was shocked to see Eby so bedraggled. Marilee had insisted Eby wear a black dress, an ill-fitting one that belonged to their mother. Marilee had wanted to shine, to be the beautiful widow. And she hadn’t wanted anyone to ask Eby about her honeymoon. The moment anyone approached Eby in the chapel, happy to see her back, Marilee would wail and call attention to herself. Once, she even pretended to faint.

  George took Eby home after the service, despite Marilee’s protests. Eby had been too tired to argue with him. She would make it up to Marilee the next day.

  He’d left every light in the home on for her so it would look cheery. But when they walked in, they both knew.

  “We can’t live here. We’re going to have to sell this place,” Eby said as George closed the door.

  “I know.”

  “I suppose it’s for the best.” Eby sighed. “It doesn’t feel like home.”

  “We’ll find it, Eby. I promise. Look at this.” He reached over and took a postcard from a stack of mail piled in a large basket by the door. “A friend told me about some investment property down south—a lake and some cabins. I’m going to take you there for the weekend, just to get away for a while.”

  There was a photo on the postcard of people enjoying a summer day at a swampy lake—a woman with a white parasol, a boy in overalls, a girl in a pink swimsuit. The words Welcome to LOST LAKE Georgia were written on it. It was an old photo, but Eby had the strangest feeling looking at it. Like she was seeing her future, which was silly. She couldn’t go there. She didn’t have the strength to leave, knowing she had to come back. “Lisette would like this,” she said sadly. “Someplace warm.”

  He kissed her neck gently, as if she would break. No one had ever thought Eby was delicate before. Only George. “You need a drink.”

  He disappeared around the corner into the dining room. Eby stood in the open foyer and looked around. The house was immaculate but decorated all wrong. It wasn’t at all how Eby had imagined it. This was how Marilee wanted it. That damn dresser wasn’t even supposed to go upstairs. Eby had intended for it to go here in the foyer, with a nice mirror above it. She had imagined the sound of her keys as she tossed them there every time she walked inside, a pleasant clink against the marble.

  She staggered to the staircase and sat down. She put her head in her lap, exhausted. She had woken up several times the past few nights, wondering where she was. Paris? Amsterdam? And where was George? In those few frightening moments before she remembered, she thought she might have an inkling of what her sister might be going through, and it made dealing with Marilee in her present state of mind a little easier.

  Sitting there, nodding off, Eby wondered if there was a form of mental illness that wasn’t biological but learned. Eby could remember her own mother on a downward spiral after her husband died. And even now, their mother was feeding Marilee’s beautiful grief with outrage of her own that Eby had stayed away so long. They were wounded. They were victims. If only they had everything they’d ever wanted, then they’d be okay. But because they didn’t, it was everyone else’s fault.

  It was suddenly too overwhelming to think of what it was going to take to make them happy. She loved little Quinn so much, but the child looked at her with such fear now. Who does that to a child? Who chooses this over happiness? She missed Europe. She missed how hopeful she was there. She missed the comfort of Lisette. Already this was too hard. Already her family was controlling things and spending George’s money.

  There was a knock at the door, and Eby’s head shot up.

  George walked into the foyer. In his hand he had a highball glass filled with amber liquid. “Who on earth could that be?” he said, going to the door and opening it. There was a pause. “I don’t believe it,” he said.

  “Who is it?” Eby asked, half afraid it was Marilee or her mother, bringing their resentment and grief back to Eby as if returning something Eby had mistakenly left behind, like a scarf.

  George stepped aside with a smile, and standing there in a green dress with her hair tied back with a length of white ribbon, was Lisette.

  She took one look at Eby and ran to her, hugging her with all the strength in her tiny arms.

  Several months ago, Eby had saved Lisette’s life.

  And Eby would always contend that, at that moment, Lisette had returned the favor.

  PART 2

  8

  Lost Lake

  Suley, Georgia

  Present day

  Eby didn’t show up for lunch. The guests ate without her, assuming she was just too busy with her inventory. Lisette set out browned chicken, warm butternut squash salad, blue potatoes, and blackberry bread with a crust of sugar that looked like ice crystals.

  When the phone in the foyer rang, everyone’s forks froze halfway to their mouths. They sat motionless, startled, not only because this was the first time the phone had rung since they all had arrived at Lost Lake, but also because Eby wasn’t there to answer it. When it rang again, they looked at each other curiously, like jungle natives marveling at technology. Even Lisette walked out of the kitchen and stood there as if wondering what to do.

  “I’ll get it,” Kate said, taking her napkin out of her lap. She got up and walked to the foyer. She reached over the desk and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hello?” A female voice said. “Is this Lost Lake?”

  “Yes.”

  “But this isn’t Eby.”

  “No, I’m Kate. Eby’s niece.”

  “Oh, good! You might be able to help me. I’m Lara Larkworthy from the Ladies League. We heard about Eby’s farewell party and we wanted to know what we could bring. I know Grady is bringing chicken wings. And I heard Mavis Baker is bringing her famous chowchow.”

  Kate hesitated. “All I know is that Lisette is making a cake.”

  “So you don’t need dessert. Good. I’ll tell the ladies. One more thing. My husband wants to know if his bluegrass band can play at the party. When they were boys, Eby used to hire them to play for her guests on the weekends. He wanted to play one last time for her.”

  “Sure,” Kate said, though she wasn’t really sure at all. “I guess that will be okay.”

  “He’ll be so happy! Thank you for your time. I hope to meet you on Saturday!”

  Lara Larkworthy of the Ladies League hung up.

  Kate put the receiver back in the cradle, then walked back to the dining room.

  “I think we have a problem,” she said.

  “Who was that?” Bulahdeen asked.

  “Someone from town. She asked what her ladies group could bring to the party. She also asked if her husband’s band could play. I think this party is going to be a lot bigger than we thought.”

  Lisette immediately wrote something on her notepad and showed it to Jack.

  “Lisette says she’ll need someone to go to the grocery store for her again,” Jack said. “And she’ll need someone to help her make a bigger cake.”

  “I’ll go to the store for you,” Kate said.

  “And I’ll help with the cake,” Jack offered. He even stood up, as if volunteering for military duty.

  “I knew it!” Bulahdeen said with a cackle. She slapped the table’s surface with the palm of her
hand, making the silverware jump. “Just when you think you know the ending, it changes.”

  Selma patted her mouth with her napkin, leaving a smear of lipstick. “No, really, you should look into getting that medication.”

  Bulahdeen ignored her. “I taught literature for nearly forty years. The books I read when I was twenty completely changed when I read them when I was sixty. You know why? Because the endings changed. After you finish a book, the story still goes on in your mind. You can never change the beginning. But you can always change the end. That’s what’s happening here.”

  No one responded. She looked frustrated that they didn’t understand.

  “Kate,” Bulahdeen said, “Eby’s not really doing inventory, is she?”

  Kate reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. “Not really. No.”

  “Eby doesn’t want to leave. We all know that.”

  “I don’t think it’s within our power to stop her,” Jack said. “Is it?”

  “Of course it is!” Bulahdeen said. “We’ve been coming back year after year, but have we ever truly let Eby know how much this place means to us? Does she really know how much we appreciate her? What have we been doing? We’ve just been hanging around, like we were waiting for this to happen, for Eby to finally give up. No more! I bet the whole town is coming here to tell her how much they love her. This isn’t a farewell party anymore. This is a make-Eby-stay party!”

  Selma stood. “You can put a tuxedo on a goat, but it’s still a goat.”

  “No, it’s not,” Bulahdeen said. “It’s a completely different goat when you put a tuxedo on it.”

  “You’re feeling your oats today,” Selma said as she walked out.

  “You bet I am. This is going to be great. There’s a lot more to do. I need to make another list.” Bulahdeen dove into her purse and began to rummage around in it, murmuring things to herself.

  Confused, Devin turned to Kate and whispered, “Is there going to be a goat at this party?”

  * * *

  Eby spent time in cabin number 2 today, the cabin she always reserved for young mothers who wanted to get away from a screaming baby for a while. She’d fallen asleep on the fainting couch in the living room, and when she awoke, the sky was so low and dark that she thought for a moment she’d slept the day away. She lifted her wrist and looked at her watch. It was an hour past noon. She’d missed lunch, and her stomach began to growl.

  She slowly sat up. Her knees popped, and she rubbed them before standing and going to the window. The picnic-table umbrellas were swaying in the wind, and leaves were rushing across the lawn, following one another frantically, as if they knew of a safe place to go. The sky was the color of old pewter. A flash of lightning illuminated the tree line at the far end of the lake. These flash storms happened a lot around the lake. They never actually produced rain, just a lot of drama. It took years to realize that. George and Eby used to scurry around and secure things and bring in tablecloths and food when the sky grew dark and the wind picked up, until they finally understood that nothing ever happened. Rain, when it came to Lost Lake, was like an old woman watering her garden. It always gave plenty of warning. It was always steady. And it never made a lot of noise. George used to laugh and say that when one of these flash storms in the distance finally produced rain at Lost Lake, it was time to worry.

  Eby left the cabin and went straight to the lawn, feeling the wind blow wildly through her hair and the electricity in the air bounce around her. She stretched her arms out and lifted her face to the sky. She closed her eyes and waited. Her heart was beating quickly, alive. Her hands tingled with energy, as if forming something solid she could ball up and throw.

  She waited. And waited.

  Minutes later, she felt the wind die down, then she felt the light on her face. The storm had passed without a drop of rain.

  She opened her eyes and dropped her arms.

  Okay.

  So it wasn’t time to worry yet.

  Eby walked to the main house. The dining room had been cleared from lunch, so she went to the kitchen. Lisette was bringing out a variety of cake pans and intricate-looking pastry tools. Her father might have been a famous chef, but everything Lisette knew about pastries was self-taught, and she was exceedingly proud of that.

  “I fell asleep doing inventory and missed lunch,” Eby said, going to the refrigerator and grabbing a handful of grapes. “Where is everyone?”

  Lisette wrote, Jack will join me soon. He will help me with this cake.

  “Jack? Here in your kitchen?” That made Eby’s brows rise. “What does Luc think of this?” Eby gestured to the empty chair in the corner.

  As always, Lisette became uncomfortable when Eby spoke of Luc.

  Eby knew all too well that there was a fine line when it came to grief. If you ignore it, it goes away, but then it always comes back when you least expect it. If you let it stay, if you make a place for it in your life, it gets too comfortable and it never leaves. It was best to treat grief like a guest. You acknowledge it, you cater to it, then you send it on its way.

  Lisette had let Luc stay for far too long.

  I am not speaking to Luc.

  “He agrees with me, doesn’t he? About you and Jack.”

  You and Luc are both trying to make me happy without you. How does that work, exactly? How can I be happy without you?

  Eby read that and shook her head. “There aren’t a finite number of things that can make you happy. There’s more than just me and Luc. I’d wager Luc would agree with me.”

  Lisette rolled her eyes and wrote, Why should I listen to either of you? Luc is a child, and you are an old woman.

  That made Eby laugh. “I’m old? You’re no spring chicken, missy.”

  Lisette threw her hands in the air, a very European expression of exasperation, something she hadn’t lost in fifty years spent in the American South. No matter how hard she tried, and she did try, Lisette would always look not-from-here. You didn’t need to hear a voice or an accent to figure that out.

  “Where is everyone else?” Eby said, taking a slice of blackberry bread from the tray before Lisette put it away.

  Lisette sighed and wrote, Planning your party.

  Eby turned before Lisette could see her reach up and touch her chest, touch that fluttering under her skin. The guests were throwing her a farewell party. Jack had come for Lisette. Wes was selling his property. She had put all of this in motion. She knew it was for the best. She couldn’t save this place.

  She walked to the front desk and sat down, leaning back to check once more for rain, but finding only sunshine. The lake was telling her not to worry, that everything was going to be all right, but she still had an uneasy feeling.

  Why else would she still be looking for signs that she should stay?

  * * *

  When they reached downtown Suley, Kate left Lisette’s grocery list with the young woman at the business counter at the Fresh Mart again. She said it might take about thirty minutes, so Kate and Devin strolled down the sidewalk around the circle, looking in windows of antique marts, galleries, tea shops, and bookstores. The last few buildings were townie businesses—a law office, a print shop, a real estate office with a dance studio upstairs—and Kate almost turned to go back. But Devin wanted to walk all the way around.

  That’s when they saw Handyman Pizza, the last building on the far side of the circle.

  Kate stopped on the sidewalk in front of the window. Just like on Wes’s van, HANDYMAN PIZZA was stenciled on the glass, along with the caricature of a smiling burly man in a tool belt. At this angle, the sun was shining against their backs, turning the glass into a mirror.

  “It smells really good in there,” Devin said. She leaned forward and cupped one hand on the glass, trying to look inside.

  “We just had lunch.”

  “I hate to tell you this, Mom, but I don’t like butternut squash. I mean, I’m eight years old,” she said, in the same tone she would have used if someone had a
sked her to drive a car.

  Kate laughed and opened the door.

  They entered, and whatever Kate had expected, it wasn’t this. The floor was black and white tiles, but the rest of the place was an explosion of neon colors. The walls were plastered with movie posters and record album covers from the 1980s. On the far back wall was a bank of old-school video games. PAC-MAN, Donkey Kong, Frogger.

  She and Devin took a seat at the counter. It was a busy place, obviously a local hangout. When a waitress in blue jeans and a Handyman Pizza T-shirt approached them, Kate quickly scanned the chalkboard wall with the menu written on it. She ordered a slice of cheese pizza for Devin and two iced teas.

  “Haven’t seen you here before,” the waitress said as she poured the iced tea into two plastic cups. “Are you visiting the water park?”

  “No, Lost Lake.”

  The waitress’s eyes widened. “You’re Eby Pim’s niece! I heard you were out there for a visit.”

  Kate was surprised. “You did?”

  The waitress laughed. “Small town. I’m coming to the party. Be right back with your slice.”

  In minutes, Devin’s pizza was in front of her, and she dug in.

  Kate sipped her tea, aware that people were watching them curiously. There was some commotion in the kitchen, and suddenly the door swung open and Wes stood there, his eyes finding them immediately.

  “I told you she was out there,” a male voice from inside the kitchen said.

  “Hi, Wes!” Devin said, strings of cheese stretching between her mouth and the pizza slice.

  “Nice place you have here,” Kate said. He was dressed in soft, worn jeans and a long-sleeved T. His hair was a lighter red than it had been, wet with sweat the day before yesterday. It made him seem more real, here in a place that wasn’t the lake. It was the first time she’d ever seen him outside that context, and it was strange to realize that her fond feelings for him were the same here as they were there. It wasn’t just situational. It was him.