A Week at the Lake

by Wendy Wax

  She stared out over the lake at the distant mountains, a sight that normally soothed and helped put things in perspective. But she was too hurt and irritated by Adam’s lack of communication, his excitement about things that didn’t seem to include her, to figure out how to bridge the gap that had opened up between them. It occurred to her that she was tired of having to work so hard at their relationship. Especially when Adam seemed to think everything was fine.

  Her fingers dropped from the keyboard. She checked the screen to make sure she hadn’t actually typed that.

  As childish as it might be, she resolved that this time she was not going to be the one to call.

  She skimmed down the rest of her inbox, which was full of what could only be labeled junk, pausing at an email from Cathy Hughes at Merritt Publishing. The communication was short and upbeat indicating that the editor understood from media reports that Mackenzie was in Lake George with Emma Michaels. Was Mackenzie ready to proceed with the book? And if so, did she have an agent they should contact?

  The answer to these questions were “not sure” and “no.” Since the day she’d practically fled the publishing house, she’d done her best not to think about it.

  At the sound of a vehicle approaching the drive, Mackenzie checked over her shoulder. It was the UPS truck. She closed the laptop, grateful for a legitimate excuse to stop working, and slid out of the hammock to go sign for the delivery.

  It was an envelope addressed to Emma. The sender was Eve Michaels.

  Barely a day went by without some sort of message or gift from Eve and Rex or sometimes just Eve.

  Mackenzie stowed her laptop in her bedroom and left the envelope on the foyer table.

  It was so great!” Zoe’s smile was broad when she and Serena got back to the lake house late the following afternoon. “Ethan said I did a really great job. He said that my performance ‘blew him away’! Can you believe it?”

  They’d had dinner out on the screen porch not too long after Serena and Zoe returned from New York, a large meal of chicken and steak kabobs and corn on the cob cooked on the grill and served with yellow rice. There were ice cream sandwiches for dessert.

  Zoe chattered with excitement through most of the meal and afterward, when they went out to the Adirondack chairs lined up on the small beach to watch the sky pinken then gray and the stars begin to come out.

  “The script was so well written,” Zoe enthused. She had played Georgia Goodbody’s current boyfriend’s long-lost daughter. Whom he had never mentioned and who turns up on Georgia’s doorstep. “Ethan says that I have a real future in front of me.”

  Emma watched her daughter’s face as she shared the nuances of Ethan’s direction, the jokes he played on cast members, the fun atmosphere in the studio and the set. She felt a flicker of unease. “You have plenty of time ahead of you for that. There’s no need to rush into the business.” A fragment of memory niggled. She stopped and tried to grab on to it. “I know we’ve talked about that before.”

  Zoe looked anxiously at Emma, and fell silent.

  “We both had a great time,” Serena said. “And Zoe did a fabulous job. Everyone thought so. If Ethan were to bring back her character on occasion, I can’t see how that would be a bad thing.”

  Emma shot Serena a look. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that Serena didn’t have a daughter and wasn’t in the business as a child, but she could never say that in front of Mackenzie, who would have given anything to have a daughter like Zoe.

  “You should have seen the way Ethan looked at Serena whenever she wasn’t looking,” Zoe said, raising her eyebrows dramatically. “If he weren’t so old I’d be crushing on him myself.”

  “He’s just a friend,” Serena said. “We’ve worked together a long time and we have a good rapport, that’s all.”

  “The guy thinks you’re hot.” Zoe giggled. “And he’s like a comedic genius. You should totally be going out with him.”

  Emma watched the exchange with interest. The lighting wasn’t great, but she would have laid money that Serena was blushing. Which was not something you saw every day.

  “I think Zoe’s right,” Mackenzie said. “The man sent you I Love Lucy and Jujubes. That makes him a keeper in my book.”

  “You should never underestimate a man who can make you laugh,” Emma agreed. “Clearly he knows you better than most.”

  “A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing,” Serena quipped.

  They laughed. Emma felt her spirits rise.

  There were holes in her memory and she had the stamina of a ninety-year-old; she wasn’t going to be training for or running a marathon anytime soon. But her hair was starting to grow back and she could handle the stairs on her own, brush her teeth, put on her clothes. And the women around her continued to celebrate each and every improvement no matter how minor.

  “I heard that you’ve already had a gentleman caller,” Serena said, giving Emma a look that said turnabout was fair play. “Not bad for someone who can barely touch her toes.”

  “I didn’t realize that toe touching was a requirement,” Emma replied.

  “Touché.” Serena conceded the point.

  “You would have thought the poor man was a terrorist the way my ‘bodyguards’ sprang to action and attempted to protect me,” Emma said drily.

  “It’s kind of hard to protect someone when you’re floundering in the water,” Mackenzie said. “Emma’s visitor likened us to the Three Stooges. It’s a good thing he was an old friend and not a stalker.” Mackenzie smiled. “I’m just glad there’s no video of it.”

  “Is true. I have getting soft,” Nadia said sadly when she brought out a shawl, which she placed on Emma’s shoulders. “Losing edge here in lap of luxury.”

  Emma smiled as she remembered Jake Richards’s visit. “I’ve known Jake since I started coming here as a toddler. His family’s been here since the French and Indian War, I think. They were among the founding families of Bolton Landing and the club.”

  “He was definitely cute, Em,” Mackenzie said. “In that ‘don’t need to impress anybody, salt of the earth’ way. Is he married?”

  “He was. But I think I heard he’d gotten divorced.”

  “Aha!” Serena said.

  “Not aha!” Emma replied firmly. “Just an old family friend who stopped by to see how I’m doing. Believe me, he’s not someone looking to get caught up in the whole Hollywood thing.”

  She caught Serena’s considering look and hoped to hell she wasn’t blushing like Serena had. “It was nice to see an old friend who asked after my health and invited us out on his boat. End of story.”

  “Can we go?” Zoe asked.

  “I not send you on boat without help,” Nadia said.

  “Then I guess you can come and protect me from . . . overly aggressive mosquitoes?”

  The air grew cooler and after a time they headed inside for the night. In the foyer, Mackenzie picked up a large envelope that had been lying on the table and handed it to her. “This came this afternoon.”

  Emma yawned. “It doesn’t say urgent anywhere on it, but you can go ahead and open it if you want.”

  Mackenzie did. “It’s a gift certificate,” she said, pulling out a single sheet of vellum paper and scanning it. “It’s for a spa day at the Sagamore for all four of us.”

  Emma was tired and not in the mood for Eve’s games. “I’m not sure why she keeps flinging gifts at me. But I wish she’d stop.”

  “There’s no place where you have to sign that you’ll be her BFF or formally forgive her,” Serena said. “And this gift is for all of us. My nails are in an embarrassing condition and my pores are the size of a small country. You are so not going to return this.”

  “It’s too late,” Emma said. “I can’t be bought.”

  “Me either,” Serena said. “But I think I can be rented.”


  “Can we go?” Zoe looked at her mother. “The Sagamore is so awesome!”

  Emma looked at her daughter and something teased at the back of her mind. She went still for a moment trying to focus enough to identify it. Just when she thought she had a piece of it, it fluttered out of reach. A flush of panic rose inside her, but she beat it back. “Okay,” she said reaching out a hand to caress her daughter’s cheek. “A spa day it is!”

  Twenty

  If I were any more relaxed I’d be asleep.” Serena sighed happily and took a sip from the glass of chardonnay.

  “Me too,” Mackenzie agreed. “How about you, Em?”

  They had spent the morning in the Sagamore’s newly renovated salon and spa, being manicured, pedicured, exfoliated, massaged, buffed, and waxed. Now they sat at a prime table in the open-air restaurant that perched on the edge of the lake. The ends of the brightly patterned scarf Emma had tied over the duck fuzz that now covered her head fluttered in the breeze.

  “I’m looking to sleep less not more,” Emma said. “But I have to say that hot stone massage pushed me right over the edge into fabulous.”

  “I bet Nadia gives a mean deep tissue massage,” Mackenzie said.

  “I think ‘mean’ is the operative word. My tissues don’t want anyone going that deep. Ever,” Serena said. “You should have seen her face when Emma insisted she take the day off.”

  “She works hard,” Emma replied. “She deserves it.”

  “I don’t think relaxation is something former Soviet weight lifters with possible ties to the KGB know a lot about. Country invading? Dictator toppling? Yes. Downtime? Not so much.” Serena laughed.

  “Well, I hope she’s having as nice a day as we are,” Emma said. “I feel refreshed and restored. Just like the Sagamore.” She turned to consider the sprawling Victorian edifice that had burned and been rebuilt more than once.

  “To getting better!” Serena raised her glass. Everyone joined in the toast.

  “And to friends who . . .” Emma swallowed and readjusted the scarf on her head. “. . . friends who stepped up for me and Zoe in a way that I will never, ever, allow myself to forget. I really don’t know how to thank you.”

  They clinked and drank again, but even as her own eyes grew damp, Serena wanted to know why Emma had let go of them without explanation five years ago and why she’d invited them back to the lake as if she’d never discarded them. She glanced at Mackenzie’s face and imagined she saw the same questions there. They’d been too worried, too focused on Emma’s recovery and being there for Zoe, to ask the questions and demand the answers they would have if the accident had never happened.

  “I’m guessing Adam is already begging you to come home,” Emma said.

  “No. No begging.” Mackenzie drained her glass. “Adam’s actually out in LA. Universal’s interested in his latest screenplay and he’s got his nose to the grindstone trying to get it ready.”

  “Wow,” Zoe said. “That’s so cool.”

  Mackenzie nodded, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It looks like this could be it.”

  “How long has he been there?” Emma asked.

  “We flew out the same day,” Mackenzie said. “He’s been asking about you. You know, checking in to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’ll have to thank him for managing without you for so long,” Emma said. “I know you both have things to get back to, but I hope you’ll stay as long as you can. At least long enough to help celebrate Zoe’s Sweet Sixteen. I did promise you a lake vacation, which up until now hasn’t been particularly vacation-like.”

  “Well, today’s been stellar,” Serena said. “And I wouldn’t miss Zoe’s big day. In the meantime since Eve’s paying, who’s up for something sweet?”

  They finished their meal with a variety of decadent desserts that they ate off each other’s plates. Feigned sneak attacks left them with crumbs in their laps and smiles on their faces.

  Afterward they parked on Lake Shore Drive and strolled along the sidewalk window-shopping in Bolton Landing, ultimately following Emma into a small antiques store. Inside, the air was cool and slightly musty. Every available inch of floor and wall was covered with memorabilia, antique tools, boating or fishing gear.

  Zoe took one look at the boy who came out to greet them, and went quiet. Serena didn’t blame her. He was well over six feet with an athletic build, slightly shaggy blond hair, and friendly brown eyes. “Hi, Miss Michaels. Zoe. Good to see you. Dad said you were in town.”

  Emma introduced Ryan Richards to Serena and Mackenzie.

  “Aren’t you about to start college?” Emma asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said politely. “I’ll be a freshman in the fall.”

  “Ryan comes from a long line of Harvard men,” Emma said.

  “That’s assuming they don’t realize they made a mistake when he gets there.” An older, more polished version of the boy came out of the back room. “Jake Richards,” he said, shaking hands with Mackenzie and Serena, then hugging Zoe and Emma. His brown eyes crinkled in good humor.

  “These motors are great,” Serena said, nodding toward several small boat motors displayed on wooden stands. “From the twenties?”

  “Yep.” Jake placed a large, capable hand on the top of a motor. “Designers like them for restaurant décor, and collectors have started driving the prices up.”

  “So you don’t miss corporate law now that you’re here year-round?” Emma asked.

  “Nope.” Jake shrugged, leaned comfortably back against the counter. “I’m exactly as busy as I want to be. I talk to people who stop in. Help out at the historical society. Go to the club. Get out on the lake every chance I get.”

  “And the winters?” Emma asked.

  “I’ve come to love them. It’s quiet and I’ve got a small warehouse where I work on things.”

  “You should see the boat Dad restored,” Ryan said.

  “You restored a whole boat?” Emma asked with interest.

  “Oh, yeah. She’s a beaut. A 1929 Chris Craft Cadet Triple Cockpit. I thought we’d take her out whenever you ladies are ready.”

  “I’m ready,” Serena said.

  “Me too,” Mackenzie added.

  Zoe nodded, stealing a glance at Ryan from beneath her lashes.

  “What do you say, Em?” Jake asked. His tone was casual, but his brown eyes were intent. It would be hard to say no to those eyes.

  “I’ve got physical therapy tomorrow,” Emma said. “But if you have room for all of us plus one former weight lifting Russian nurse, we could make it the day after?”

  “Sounds good,” Jake said. “Ryan and I will pick you up at your dock at ten. We’ll get out on the lake, cruise around a bit, and maybe have a picnic out on one of the islands. Just like in the old days.”

  Serena bit back a smile as identical blushes spread across Emma’s and Zoe’s cheeks.

  They were gathered in Emma’s room that night making a show of tucking her into bed in Nadia’s absence, when Mackenzie’s phone rang.

  “I really don’t need anyone to tuck me in,” Emma protested, though her predinner nap had hardly put a dent in her exhaustion. As she spoke, Mackenzie pulled the phone out of her pajama pocket. “I only let Nadia do it because I haven’t been able to figure out how to stop her.”

  “Where do you think she can be?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I don’t know, but she drove off on that scooter like a woman on a mission,” Serena said. “There isn’t exactly a ton of nightlife in either Lake George Village or Bolton Landing. So I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

  Mackenzie frowned down at her phone, and then answered it with a hesitant, “Hello?”

  With a quick look at Emma, she stepped away from the bed. “Yes, yes, it’s Mackenzie. . . . Fine, thank you. . . . Yes, it was great. Thank you so much for . . .
everything. We had a lovely time. . . . Yes, I know Emma enjoyed it too. . . . She’s in bed just now. I don’t think . . .” Mackenzie’s shoulders hunched. “Um, yes. . . . Yes. . . . Um, no. Really, it’s not . . .”

  She turned around with a sigh, and held her phone out to Emma. “Eve, um, wants to talk with you.”

  “No. Tell her I’m asleep already. Tell her I . . .”

  Mackenzie winced, mouthed an apology, and handed her the phone. Everyone else stopped what they were doing to listen.

  “Emma?” Eve’s voice sounded in Emma’s ear, too close and too eager. “I . . . I just wanted to make sure you enjoyed the spa.”

  Emma sighed. “Yes. Thank you. Everyone had a nice time.” She made to hand the phone back to Mackenzie but Eve was already talking.

  “I’ve left a card on account at the spa. So anytime you want to go, don’t hesitate. And I was thinking maybe you and Zoe would like to go to lunch one day. If I were to come up we could . . .”

  Tired and irritated, Emma cut her off. “You’re going to fly from California for lunch in ‘the boonies’?” She emphasized the term Eve had always applied to the lake house, Bolton Landing, Lake George, and the entire 6.1 million acres that comprised the Adirondack Park.

  “I’m not in California. I’m in New York,” Eve said tautly. “And I’d love to come up to take you and Zoe for lunch. Or . . . perhaps you and she could come down to celebrate her birthday with dinner and a show. Or maybe a shopping spree . . .” Eve named all the things she had done rarely with Emma and then only grudgingly.

  “No.”

  “No, what?” Eve asked in the too-reasonable manner she’d adopted.