Chapter Eighteen
When Kelsey had finally found Melanie in the master bathroom, Melanie had been on her hands and knees, scrubbing the tile grout with an old toothbrush. She had informed Kelsey that the realtor had scheduled their first showing for six that evening. “Would you mind putting all your clothes on hangers in the closet?” she had asked. “Then maybe you could run to Dern’s to pick up a bouquet for the mantel. Maybe some lilies? Those pink stargazer ones would look really nice.”
Kelsey had stared back at her, feeling like a cartoon character whose jaw had just dropped to the floor, accompanied by the sound of a clanging anvil. Tonight? As in, this very evening? As her sister relayed the details about the prospective buyers—Just who the heck owns more than one lake house, anyway?—Kelsey felt even more one-dimensional and cartoonish, immature and out of touch. This was reality, where money talked and some people apparently could pay for houses in cash. She wasn’t sure how she had ever thought she could persuade Melanie to believe in a bed-and-breakfast fantasy, especially since a neat and tidy sale with a multimillionaire was just within reach. The mimosas, the strawberry-pineapple bread, the hand-tatted lace pillow shams, the mismatched china plates and teacups from thrift stores... all of it was a pie-in-the-sky, castle-in-the-air, Pollyanna pipe dream.
“Where are you going?” Melanie asked, sitting back on her heels. “To clean up first or the store?”
“Neither.” Kelsey propelled herself out of the bathroom. Her fingers traced the top of the chair rail as she made her way down the hallway to her sister’s bedroom.
“Kelsey, I could really use your help,” Melanie called after her. “Kelsey?”
The tapestry was hanging slightly askew so that she could just make out the edge of the hidden door. She almost tripped over Sprocket in her hurry to reach it. He let out a small whine.
“What are you doing?” Melanie was behind her. “We really don’t have time for this right now.”
“Well, we certainly won’t have time for it once you sell the house to Mr. and Mrs. Moneybags, will we?” she retorted, touching the border of the tapestry.
“That’s not necessarily such a bad thing,” Melanie said. She crossed the room cautiously, as if Kelsey were holding a loaded gun. “This can’t be healthy for us. We’re still grieving Mom, and we’re here at the lake house with all of our old memories, and to be unearthing all this stuff about her on top of that—”
“I don’t really care if it’s healthy or not, you hypocrite. It’s a freaking enchanted door into Mom’s life, and since you seem hell-bent on making sure we don’t have access to it for much longer, I’m going in while I still can. And I’m leaving her a response, whether it’s ‘Melanie approved’ or not.” She made vigorous air quotes. “So there! Mom deserves an answer. On her end, I’m sure our lack of a response has been gnawing at her for years.” She squatted down to stroke Sprocket’s head. “It’s okay,” she told him. “I’ll be back soon.”
“If you’ve absolutely got to leave a note on the bench for her, fine,” Melanie said, shocking Kelsey to the core with her sudden acquiescence. “But please come right back, and don’t disappear into Mom’s world right now. I’ll even hold the door open for you, okay? The showing starts in less than two hours, and I can’t have you popping out from behind the tapestry in the middle of it and scaring the bejeezus out of the buyers. We never know how long you’ll be gone, for ten minutes or ten hours. Kelsey, just please... this isn’t the right time. I need you to think like a responsible adult right now and do what’s best for everyone.”
Kelsey had been ready to comply with her sister and wait to go inside until after the showing, right up until that last little patronizing dig. “Oh, I need to act like a responsible adult, huh? Just like you’re such a responsible adult who claims to know what’s best for everyone, when really I think what you mean to say is that it’s whatever’s best for you, right at this moment? Since you keep changing your mind and breaking your own rules whenever it happens to suit you? Is running away from your problems and your husband and hiding out here how a real, responsible adult acts, Melanie? If so, then please don’t sign me up.”
She closed her eyes briefly, expecting another protest, horrified that she had really done it—she had gone way too far and battered her sister’s already wounded feelings—but no protest came, and she couldn’t back down after that outburst, so she pushed onward. Inside the closet, she was surprised to see that the cardigan was gone, and a blue plastic lighter lay beside the pack of cigarettes. But the novelty of that and its possible meaning didn’t register for long because when she turned around, another surprise overtook her. Melanie had come into the portal with her after all, her nostrils flared in reproach. She was still clutching the frayed toothbrush.
A PARTY WAS IN FULL swing, the kind Kelsey remembered from her childhood. “I Want a New Drug” by Huey Lewis and the News was playing on the stereo, and adults were elbow to elbow in the living room and kitchen and even spilling out onto the wraparound porch and backyard. What year is it? The mid-eighties? Kelsey wondered if she and Melanie were upstairs sleeping in the tiny bedroom—but surely they couldn’t be with all the racket.
She spotted Grandpa Jack immediately with his terrible orange tan and his white Miami Vice blazer. So clearly her grandparents still inhabited the lake house, at least occasionally, and hadn’t handed over the full ownership to her mom yet. Uncle Bob hadn’t wanted the place. He preferred to spend his time off far away from Wisconsin, in destinations like Tokyo or Singapore. A circle of men stood around Grandpa Jack, and her dad was among them, laughing it up, still broad shouldered and thick haired but with fuller cheeks and a slight paunch. He was probably younger than Kelsey but already the father of two and on his way to being partner at the firm.
Melanie stepped on Kelsey’s heel. She was looking down to set the timer on her watch. “Thirty minutes,” she said firmly.
Kelsey didn’t acknowledge her. Her sister’s attempt at control, even in the face of supernatural, uncontrollable forces, would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so exasperating. She plunged into the crowd, which consisted of women with poofy perms and clothes in every shade of pastel and men with Burt Reynolds mustaches and loafers with no socks. She heard laughter and the clink of ice cubes in brandy old fashioneds. Her mom wasn’t anywhere.
On the back porch, Lance Fletcher was rocking a loud-patterned shirt and telling an even louder story to a rapt audience. A pretty brunette was hanging on his every word, touching his arm. But Vinnie and her mom weren’t among them. Kelsey was about to give up and head back upstairs to see if she could at least glimpse herself and Melanie as young children when a tall silhouette slipping across the dark lawn caught her eye. Her instinct told her to follow.
The figure was alone and headed toward the Fletchers’ boathouse. Her heart flipped over in her chest. She glanced at Melanie, who looked grave. Her sister’s shoulders and head were pointed downward, as if she were battling a strong wind, and Kelsey wished she hadn’t made that last comment about Melanie running away from Ben and her problems.
The moonlight glinted off the lake’s surface, and Kelsey could finally make out the silhouette. Christine was leaning against the side of the boathouse, palm cupping the end of a cigarette as she lit it. Apparently, stealing the packs of cigarettes hadn’t been a strong enough hint to quit. She took a long drag, and her body sagged against the wooden wall. Why is she out here? Is she just sneaking away for a quick smoke? Or is she meeting Vinnie? Kelsey’s heart gave another flip, like a goldfish in a too small bowl.
They watched Christine smoke three cigarettes in slow succession. She fluffed her hair out and straightened the red plastic belt on her dress. After disappearing into the boathouse for a second, she reappeared smelling like sandalwood, the scent Kelsey associated most with her mom—a perfume or body spray, she suddenly realized, to cover up the smoke. A feeling of betrayal crept over her.
“I thought you were quitting,�
� Lavinia called from the other side of the boathouse, and Kelsey jumped.
But Christine seemed unfazed. “Still trying to cut back,” she replied. “But you know how edgy these parties make me.” She turned to appraise Vinnie, and Kelsey and Melanie did too.
In the darkness, Kelsey couldn’t tell if the short, ruffled outfit Vinnie was wearing was a dress or a nightgown. Her red hair was long again, wildly curly and teased up high, like Julia Roberts’s in Pretty Woman. It was a much better look for her than the seventies pageboy bob had been.
“How’s Beau?” Christine asked.
“His fever broke.” Vinnie leaned against the wall a few feet away from her. “I think I’m going to send the babysitter home, though, and call it a night. I doubt Lance will notice.”
“He’ll notice.”
“Well, maybe he will,” Vinnie said flatly. “But he won’t mind. I feel lousy, anyway. Probably coming down with whatever Beau has.” She made a face.
“That’s too bad.” Christine pulled herself upright. “I’d better go rejoin the party. Charlie will be wondering where I am.”
“Nice of him to join you all this weekend. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Vinnie,” Christine said warningly.
She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I know, I know. Once he becomes partner, things will get easier. However, it’s been my experience with lawyers—which, granted, is limited—that their responsibilities and time commitments only seem to increase the higher they climb up the ladder.” She rolled her long ballerina’s neck on her shoulders. “That spinach dip was delicious, by the way. I’ll have to get your recipe.”
“My mom made it. She made everything. All I did was buy the paper plates and brandy.”
“Well, the brandy was excellent,” Vinnie said, bumping her hip against Christine’s. “This party wouldn’t be a party without the brandy. And that’s not all you did. You also took care of two little girls and kept up a gigantic house all week while living with your uptight, overbearing parents. Well done, you!” She grinned at the hint of a smile that had appeared on Christine’s face. “That’s more than I can say for myself. Today I didn’t wash my hair until three. And the boys have been wearing their pajamas all day long. Stephen’s too little to care, and I’ve convinced Beau it’s a game.”
Christine’s smile widened until it reached her eyes.
“Why don’t you get out two more cigarettes?” Vinnie said. “I’ll smoke one with you for old times’ sake. Twist my arm, why don’t you?” She grabbed the lighter. “You’re such a bad influence on me.”
Melanie was watching the boats tied up along the twin docks bob up and down with the waves, but Kelsey knew her ears were tuned in to their mom’s conversation by the stiff way she held her head and the way the muscle in her jaw kept clenching and unclenching. Vinnie and Christine smoked, and the lake pushed the boats into the dock and one another with a slap, slap, slap.
“Do you think the ghost bride is still out there?” Christine asked. “You remember, right? From your supposed sunken ship?”
“Of course I remember,” Vinnie said cheerfully, stubbing out her cigarette into a soda can. “And it just so happens that tonight is the anniversary of their wedding and the terrible storm that capsized the ship. July twentieth.”
“It’s July twenty-first.”
“That’s what I meant. July twenty-first.” Vinnie’s voice became the somber, rhythmic voice of a poet reading her work. “Tonight she swims up from the depths of the lake and walks the shore, keening and bemoaning her fate. In her hair are jewels that the merchant vessel was carrying and shells and water lilies.” As if on perfect cue, a loon warbled out its haunted cry. “See? There she is, crying for her lost lover to come join her.”
“I thought it was her husband she was crying for,” Christine corrected. “The ship’s captain.”
“Sure,” Vinnie obliged, pulling her hair to one side. “That’s what I meant. I thought you were going back to the party.”
“I am.”
“I see.” She came close to Christine, and Kelsey thought for sure Vinnie was going to kiss her, but she only squeezed her elbow. “Well, I’m going home to take a few aspirin, drink a hot toddy, and get in bed. I’ll let Lance deal with the babysitter when he gets home.”
“Good night. I hope you feel better.”
“Good night,” Vinnie echoed. Her porcelain-doll face looked both wistful and concerned. “I hope you do too.”
Kelsey thought for sure her mom would return to the raucous party since Vinnie had left, but Christine lingered alone for several more minutes, staring down at her sandals and the makeshift soda-can ashtray on the ground, her shoulders stooped, her curls almost entirely covering her face.
Melanie tapped her watch. “There’s five more minutes,” she whispered. “But do you want to go now?”
“You can go,” Kelsey hissed back, not wanting to leave her mom alone like that.
Melanie glowered at her but didn’t move.
Kelsey wanted her dad to notice her mom’s prolonged absence from the party and come find her and cajole her back into happiness, the way he’d done so many times. She wondered if her mom was hoping for the same thing. But their dad didn’t come, and Kelsey was forced to watch the painful process of Christine slowly composing herself, piece by piece—another spritz of body spray, the straightened posture, and the polite smile. They followed her back up the lawn, into the glow and noise of the party, where she laughed at jokes and offered refills and kissed their dad on the cheek. He pulled her into his arms in a showy dip move and kissed her back. Can’t he see? Kelsey wondered. Can’t anyone see?
Melanie’s watch beeped, and though Kelsey had had no intention of abiding by her sister’s arbitrary time limit, she ascended the stairs with her willingly. She had seen all that she needed to see—more than she needed to see. It seemed that her mom and Lavinia had remained friends after marriage but tried to keep their distance. But her mom’s unhappiness—that gray, slightly out-of-focus backdrop of her childhood—had sharpened into a crystalline resolution before her eyes.
Kels-Bels, all I wish is that you’d be happy, her mom had said the afternoon she died. You need to find what makes you happy, no matter what that is. Believe me. I would be the last person on this earth to force you to be something you’re not.
Not a hypocrite but a mother who’d wanted so much more for her daughters than she’d had for herself.
At the top of the stairs, Kelsey saw Grandma Dot turning away from the smallest bedroom and tiptoeing down the hallway. Checking on Melanie and me, she thought affectionately, which wasn’t a feeling she often had for her maternal grandmother. She turned toward the right instead of the left.
“You can’t go in there,” Melanie said. “I think we’re sleeping in there.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
“But what if we wake up and see ourselves? Isn’t that like the number-one no-no of time traveling?”
“I won’t wake us up,” Kelsey said, rolling her eyes. “And even if I did, why would we be able to see ourselves when no one else can?”
Melanie looked unconvinced, but she held up her pointer finger. “One minute,” she conceded. “Then we really need to head back to get the house ready for the showing.”
“I’m not keeping you here. You can leave whenever you want.”
“Well, I’m not leaving without you. God knows what would happen if we separated. Maybe you’d get stuck here forever.”
The glow of a night-light met them when Kelsey slipped through the door. The room was stuffy, with only a box fan blowing from its one window, and it smelled like children, or at least the smell Kelsey always associated with children—sugar and milk, Johnson’s baby lotion, clean sweat, and wet diapers. A twin bed was pushed against one wall, a white-spindled crib against the other. Kelsey’s foot floated over something soft and fuzzy as she approached Melanie’s bed. A dog or cat? But her parents and grandparents
had never let them keep pets.
“Marvelous!” Melanie whispered joyfully.
“What?” Kelsey asked, confused by her sister’s sudden change of heart.
“My stuffed dolphin, Marvelous. Do you remember him? Oh, I wish I could pick him up and put him back in bed with me. He must have fallen out.”
Kelsey was less interested in the stuffed toy and more interested in the sleeping girl. Melanie looked about three or four. She was lying on her side with her knees bent, her mouth slightly open, and her caramel hair fanned out on the pillow. A pink floral sheet was twisted around her legs. She exuded peace, and Kelsey wished she could lie down beside Melanie and rest her cheek against her small sister’s. She imagined it would feel like the velvety petal of a flower.
Inside the crib, a one- or two-year-old Kelsey looked less graceful in repose. Wearing only a cotton onesie, she slept with her flushed face pressed into the mattress and her diapered butt up in the air. Her blond curls were stuck to her head with sweat, and one of her chubby feet was dangling between the crib spindles. She turned her face slightly, so Kelsey could see the spiky shadows her eyelashes cast on her round cheeks. “Mama,” she exhaled.
“Man, we were cute,” Kelsey whispered to her sister, but Melanie was already exiting the room. Kelsey found her pacing in the hallway.
“Why was Mom down there smoking with Vinnie?” Melanie asked, not even trying to keep her voice down. “I just don’t get it. How could she have been so miserable when she had us?” Her eyes flashed.
“I don’t know,” Kelsey answered honestly.
This was about her sister’s struggles to have a baby, she knew, but also something much deeper than that. It was the same feeling Kelsey had been trying to push away—the child’s longing to fill every nook and cranny in her mother’s heart, to want to be the “only sunshine” her mother needed for complete and total happiness. That had been one of the songs she’d sung to them when they were little. It was quite the tall order, being somebody’s only sunshine.
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