by Ann Herrick
After we unpacked, we went downstairs and swept off the porch while Mom and Dad tidied up the rest of the house. There was no sign of the two guys we'd seen earlier.
When we finished sweeping, Dad recruited Gwen and me to help him set up his computer and books and everything in the tiny third bedroom. As soon as we were done, Dad booted up.
"Don't work the first day here, Dad," I protested. "At least go for a walk by the lake with Mom." And give me a chance to hop on the computer!
"Don't worry," Dad said, his gaze already fixed on the computer screen. "I just want to check out some stuff."
"Sure, Dad," I said as Gwen and I left the room. But I knew we'd have to drag him out of there just to get him to eat.
"Why don't we go to the lake?" Gwen suggested.
"Well … okay." I didn't have to read the very minute we arrived. Besides, I should get at least one close look at the water.
Gwen and I picked our way through the trees down a path bordered with wildflowers and low shrubs that spilled out on to the edge of the cove. Three docks, one for each house, reached out like fingers into the water. A small rowboat was tied up next to our dock. I noticed a canoe at the dock to our left and a sailboat and speedboat at the dock to our right.
Out beyond our sheltered cove Lake Winnipesaukee seemed to stretch on for miles, its smooth surface dotted with green islands.
"We should have changed into our swimsuits." Gwen kicked off her sandals and waded in the water up to her knees. "C’mon, Kaysie."
I glanced around. There was no sign of those two guys anywhere. Not that it would matter to me if they saw me splashing around with my kid sister. I slipped off my sandals and rolled up the legs of my jeans. I tested the water with my big toe.
"Sheesh," Gwen said. "You take forever." She kicked the water, soaking me clear up to my thighs. So much for my darling kid sister! I splashed at her with both hands. "I'll get you!"
Gwen sent a tidal wave that practically knocked me over. It totally ruined my hair! I wiped my eyes so I could see where to aim my next splash, when suddenly I noticed the guy with dark hair hovering around the dock to the left.
"Gwen. Psst," I hissed. "We're being watched." I nodded toward our audience.
Gwen, not at all worried about being subtle, whirled around and looked. "Oh, wow! Maybe he'll come over."
"With me looking like this!" I exclaimed. "I mean … I'm cold. Let's go up to the house."
"Aw, I don't want‑‑
"Come on, Gwen." I was already out the water and struggling to put my sandals on my wet feet. Finally I gave up and stayed barefoot. "I'm going up."
"Just because you're off boys, doesn't mean I am." Gwen stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest.
"You know Mom wouldn't want you in the water by yourself." I tried to repair the damage to my hair by running my fingers through it. Then I squared my shoulders and headed for the house. First, though, I threw a quick glance at the dock. The dark‑haired guy was gone. Well. Good.
Gwen tagged along behind me, as I figured she would, especially since that guy had disappeared. But as we walked toward the cottage I thought I heard something rustling in the trees between our cottage and the one where I'd seen the blond hunk. I spotted a flash of color, sort of like sand. Was it that guy? Watching us? If it was, I certainly‑‑
A rush of wings flew overhead. A bird. Of course. What on earth had made me think otherwise? I guess what I needed was a good night's sleep, dreaming about Brian.
At the thought of Brian, the picture of his warm smile and gentle brown eyes floated in my mind. He was such a nice guy and I liked him so much. I mean, I loved him! My devotion this month would prove that.
I stopped on the porch steps to brush off my feet before I went inside. I thought how everything was so right, so easy with Brian. He was protective of my feelings, he never tried to push me to "prove" anything. So why did his attitude about this vacation bother me? Why did it feel like a test, somehow? I was sure we belonged together. How could he possibly think I'd be interested in seeing some other guy, now or ever?
"Dinner's ready." It was Mom, leaning halfway out the door. "Would you girls please go get Dad? I've called up to him twice, and he still hasn't come down."
Gwen and I looked at each other and nodded. We were used to dragging Dad to meals.
We knocked on Dad's office door, then walked right in. Knocking was just a formality, because Dad never heard a thing when he was writing.
Gwen tapped Dad on the shoulder. "Dinner's ready!"
"Hold it," Dad said. "I'm right in the middle of planting a clue."
Gwen rolled her eyes. But it took only three more tries to get Dad to the supper table, so maybe the fresh summer breeze was working its magic. Either that, or it was Mom banging on a pot with a spoon.
As soon as we sat down to eat, Mom started chatting cheerily as she served up tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. She may get annoyed with Dad's plodding ways, but not for long. "While you girls were out, I met the woman next door." Mom used the soup ladle to indicate the house on the left. "Gladys Tomich. She and her husband are artists. He does oils and she does watercolors. They have a son, Mikel, who looks as if he's in his teens, and a girl, Zoya, who announced that she's nine."
I figured Mikel must be the dark‑haired guy. I saw Gwen light up when Mom mentioned him.
"Honestly, Margo," Dad said between bites of his grilled cheese sandwich. "How you find out so much about people in such a short time is beyond me."
"Well, I just take the time to talk to them," Mom said, exasperated for only a moment. Then she went on. "Gladys said she hasn't met the fellow on the other side, but she's heard that he's recently divorced and that he's spending the summer here with his youngest son."
"So what's wrong with him being recently divorced?" Dad asked.
"Nothing's wrong!" Mom turned to me and Gwen. "Did I say anything was wrong?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I was just telling you what I heard. I thought you might be interested in knowing something about our neighbors."
"I just hope they're quiet," Dad said.
Mom sighed.
"Maybe we should take them a cake or something," Gwen said.
"What?" Dad said. "Who? Why?"
"The divorced guy and his son. They must be lonely." Gwen wore a look of real concern. But I knew she just wanted to meet that blond guy‑‑who was too old for her, I was sure.
"Besides," Gwen continued, "aren't you supposed to do that for new neighbors? I remember Gramma saying people don't do that enough any more."
"What a good idea!" Mom snapped her fingers. "Why didn't I think of it myself? I'm sure he'll … they'll appreciate the gesture."
"But aren't we the new people in the neighborhood?" Dad asked.
"Just a technicality," Gwen said quickly.
"Let's see." Mom popped up from the table to rummage through the kitchen cabinets. "I wonder if I have the ingredients. Oh, good grief. I don't have any flour. I hadn't planned on baking. But, why not? I can use it for muffins too. I'll go to the store tomorrow‑‑"
"That's fine, dear." Dad wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You bake the cake. I've got a Chapter to finish." He carried his dishes to the counter, then went back upstairs.
Gwen stood up and looked around the kitchen in a panic. "Hey! Where's the dishwasher?"
"There isn't one. Just put your dishes in the sink," Mom said. "I'll do them tonight. I want to think about what to bake for … for our neighbors. After this, we can take turns cleaning up."
"Oh, great." Gwen moaned. "I hate washing dishes."
"At least we only have to do it once every four nights," I said. I pictured myself slaving over a hot sink full of dishes. It fit in with the martyr image I wanted to mold for myself in this month of deprivation.
"Oh, sure," Gwen said. "You know how it'll be when it's Dad's turn. He'll make a big production out of it, while making sure we scrape and stack our plates for him and put them in the sink."
>
I shrugged. "That's how Dad is. He always does chores with great fanfare." It's easy to be generous about others when you're practicing martyrdom.
Gwen and I played a few games of gin rummy, since Mom had allowed only non‑electronic entertainment, then went up to our room. When I was all ready for bed, I pushed back the curtains to look out at the moonlight rippling gently across the lake.
I replayed the early morning scene with Brian. I could picture him exactly as he said he loved me and held out his ring. Then a shiver went through me. Though I could remember his exact words, I couldn't remember the sound of his voice. I mean, I knew I'd recognize it in a second if I heard it. But I couldn't recall precisely how he sounded.
Then I realized I hadn't written to Brian yet. But I was tired. I promised myself I'd write first thing after breakfast tomorrow. Meanwhile, I looked for the brightest star in the sky and wished the month would pass quickly, so I could go home to Brian's arms.
I was just about to turn away from the window, when I noticed something through the trees. It was a light in an upstairs window of the house to the right. Silhouetted against the light was the blond guy. And he seemed to be staring right at me!
I jumped away from the window.
"What's the matter?" Gwen asked sleepily.
"N‑nothing. I … I just felt cold all of a sudden." I crawled into bed and pulled up the covers. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could and tried to dream about Brian.
Chapter Three
"Who wants to go with me on the sightseeing boat?" Mom asked first thing at breakfast.
"Not me." Dad made a brushing motion in the air with his hand. "I'm too busy."
Mom turned her big brown eyes on Gwen and me. "It'll be fun. Beautiful scenery and a chance to meet new people. Probably lots of kids your age."
I hated the thought of Mom spending the whole month doing everything by herself. If only Dad would blast himself out of that office once in a while. However, I knew he wouldn't. I wanted to get started on my books, but Mom looked so eager. "Okay," I said. "I'll go."
"Kids our age?" Gwen thought for a second. "I'll go too."
I could see I was going to have to keep my eye on Gwen. A boy‑crazy twelve‑year‑old who looked at least fifteen should be declared a disaster‑waiting‑to‑happen.
It wasn't until we were pulling into the parking lot where we'd catch the sightseeing boat that I remembered I'd planned on writing Brian first thing. Oh, well. Now I'd have the ride to tell him about.
The boat looked like something out of a Mark Twain story, a side‑wheeler with three levels of decks. As soon as we boarded, Mom plunged into a conversation with two women from Iowa. Gwen and I hung around for a couple minutes, then decided to strike out on our own.
We went right up to the top level and leaned on the rail. Gwen didn't find any cute guys. But the weather was great, the lake was beautiful and it was fun hearing the voice on the loudspeaker point out highlights.
When the ride was over, we found Mom involved in a lively conversation with none other than the very handsome Captain of the boat. Mom's eyes sparkled as she flashed her bright smile, and indulged in one of her favorite pastimes‑‑talking to someone new. She and Dad sure were opposites when it came to that sort of thing.
It took forever to get back to the cottage. Mom stopped at The Corner Store to get ingredients for the pie she'd decided to bake for the neighbors instead of a cake. She must've spent at least ten minutes picking out which box of blueberries she wanted.
When we finally got back, I started to go straight to my room to write a letter to Brian. But before I could get inside, Mom pointed to the two boxes of books sitting on the porch by the door. "Kaysie, you insisted on dragging those books up here. I think you should get started on one of them right now."
"But, Mom, I have to‑‑"
"No 'buts.'" Mom gave me one of her rare insistent stares.
I had made a big deal about bringing the books. And they were sort of like a magnet to me. I so loved to get lost in a good book. I could write Brian later. After all, it was really only our first full day here.
After Mom and Gwen went inside, I opened one of the boxes. The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam sat right on top. I plunked myself down on the porch swing, rested my feet on the porch rail, and started to read.
Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heaven,
and strikes
The Sultans with a Shaft of Light.
"Um … are you Kaysie or Gwen?"
Startled, I looked up to see the cute dark‑haired guy from next door standing on the porch steps. He looked about six feet tall, but skinny as a fishing pole. "I'm Kaysie."
"I'm Mikel Tomich. Um, your mother said I should stop by sometime. So, uh, here I am."
Sheesh! Some day I was going to stick a sock in Mom's mouth. "Well, you know how mothers are," was all I could think of to say.
"Yeah." Mikel nodded in the direction of his house.
I looked and saw a woman with a bubble of red hair, sitting on the porch watching us.
"My mother," Mikel said, as if that explained everything.
It totally did.
Mikel looked at me with an uncertain smile. "Would you like to go for a walk down by the lake or something?"
"Well, I'm reading." I held up my book.
"Oh." Mikel's smile faded. There was a silence as Mikel turned and glanced toward his mother. I could see her flash him a big, encouraging smile. Mikel looked back at me and gulped nervously. He didn't seem to know what to do next.
I thought for a moment. Spending time with a summer guy was exactly one of the things Brian said I should do. I could go along with Brian's suggestion and help out poor Mikel at the same time. "Why don't we just sit and talk for a while?"
"Really?" Mikel looked at me with relief. "I mean, um, okay."
There was a thick silence until I finally said, "So! What brought you to New Hampshire?"
"Hmm?" Mikel blinked. "Oh. Hmmm. My folks wanted to come here. We live in New York. They thought my sister and I should have at least one summer in the country 'before we grow up.'"
"Really? How fascinating?" I knew I was overdoing it, but I wanted to keep the conversation going for Mikel's sake. "How do you like New Hampshire?"
He smiled nervously at me. "I like it."
"That's good. Really good!" I sounded like a dork!
"But basically I'm a city person. I'll be happy when we back to New York."
"Ah! I see." Boy, any more witty dialogue like that and I'd have my conversation license revoked.
Mikel didn't say anything more. Of course, I hadn't exactly given him anything to respond to. Since I couldn't think of anything intelligent, I said the next thing that popped into my head. "So, what kind of car do you drive?"
"Drive?" Mikel blinked. "I'm not old enough to drive."
"Oh? How old are you?"
"I'm … I'm thirteen." Mikel blinked a couple more times. "H‑how old are you?"
"Sixteen." Seeing how this information made Mikel turn an interesting shade of pink, I quickly tried to think of a way to help him save face. "Hey, you know, I just had a thought. You and Gwen, my sister who is twelve, would probably have a lot in common." Judging from Mikel's behavior so far, I figured he wouldn't be too much for Gwen to handle.
"Oh?" Mikel tilted an eyebrow with interest.
"Yes." What they'd have in common I wasn't sure, since I barely knew Mikel. But I figured he and Gwen were much closer in age than he and I, so I could hope.
"Come on. I'll introduce you." I was beginning to sound like an old-time matchmaker. Next I'd be charging a fee if I didn't watch myself.
"Okay!"
He didn't have to sound quite so cheerful. I wouldn't have minded if he'd expressed great disappointment about being too young for me before he ever‑so‑reluctantly agreed to meet Gwen. I signaled Mikel to follow
me.
"Hi, Mom. Where's Gwen?"
Mom wiped her hands on a dish towel before turning around to answer. "I think she's still upstairs‑‑why, hello, Mikel!"
"Hi, Mrs. Crawford." Mikel sniffed the air. "What smells so good?"
"Blueberry pies. They're cooling right now." Mom was obviously pleased with Mikel's reaction. "Would you like to stay for lunch? It's just sandwiches, but there'll be pie for dessert."
"Sure, thanks! I'll just run and tell my folks." Mikel took off before I could remind him I'd brought him in to meet Gwen. Since the cottages didn't have telephones, and Mom had issued her no‑cell‑phone edict, run‑and‑tell was our only form of inter‑cottage communication. Maybe that was a cove‑wide edict, at least of parents to their kids. Oh, well, I was sure Mikel would be back, and Gwen wasn't going anywhere.
I dashed upstairs to get her. I found her flopped down on her bed. "What's up?"
"I'm just writing a post card to Jessica."
Writing, yikes. I still hadn't written to Brian. Well, the day was young. "Mikel Tomich is having lunch with us," I announced. I decided that was better than saying I wanted to introduce him to her.
"What!" Gwen leapt three feet in the air. "That cute dark‑haired guy from next door?" She ran over to her dresser and peered into the mirror. "My hair! My clothes! I'm a mess." She grabbed a comb and attacked her hair. "Why is he having lunch with us?"
"Um, Mom invited him. He'll be here any minute."
"Why does Mom have to be Ms. Social? Especially without checking with me first!"
"You look fine." I straightened Gwen's collar and pushed a stray wisp of hair off her face. "Come on."
"I don't want to look fine. I want to look great!"
"You look great." I glanced out the window and saw that Mikel was just steps from our house. "He's almost here. Let's go."
"Just one second!" Gwen slipped a dash of pale pink lipstick across her lips. "Okay."
We both took a deep breath and walked downstairs. Already Mom was totally fussing over Mikel, insisting he sit in "the most comfortable chair" while he waited. He'd just settled into the big blue chair when he saw me and Gwen and sprang to his feet. As soon as his gaze landed on Gwen I could tell what he was thinking: Wow!