“I have to go to work tomorrow,” Bernie said, hugging her hard. “Or I’d hang out longer.”
“I’m sorry, Bernie.”
“For what?”
“For . . . for . . .” Jaymie flapped her hand at Brandi, who was slumped on the park bench by the dock in the twilight, crying. “For all of this; the drunkenness, the drama, the tears, the . . . the drama!”
Bernie snickered and Heidi laughed. “This is nothing,” Bernie said. “Heidi and I had fun. We’ve never been to Grand Bend. We enjoyed it! It reminded me of this little surf town in Cali that I used to go to, to visit a guy I was dating. Stop worrying. We love your friend Rachel! She is such a sweetheart.”
“I know, isn’t she? You didn’t get to know Melody, though; she’s awesome too.”
Heidi shivered and looked over at the author, who was staring off into the sunset frowning. “Melody seems like she’s . . . like she’s trying to figure you out when you talk to her,” she whispered, leaning in toward Jaymie. “Don’t get me wrong, I like her, but . . . she asks a lot of questions.” Eyes wide, she said, “I told her the story about Grandpa Lockland and how he died and the big inheritance, and she asked me, did anyone think it was murder! I thought you said she was a romance writer! I pictured someone . . . someone fluffier!”
Jaymie laughed, her mood brightened by talking to her Queensville friends. “Melody is interested in everything. You cannot bore her, and her mind works in weird ways.” She hugged and released them both as the ferry captain indicated he wanted to pull away. “I wish you could stay, but I understand.”
Val, who had left the van on the ferry to take across to Queensville, trotted over to Jaymie and squeezed her arm consolingly. “Hey, kiddo, you look stressed. Are you okay?”
“I guess,” she said, sighing heavily. “Today was a nightmare, no matter what Heidi and Bernie say.” She looked over her shoulder, to Brandi, Rachel, Gabriela and Courtney, sunburns glowing golden red in the sunset light. They awaited her to head back to the cottage. “And I’m stuck with them.”
Val hugged her, then looked into her eyes, her own filled with concern behind her heavy glasses. “I could take the van back, go check on Denver, and come back out to spend the night. Would you like that?”
Jaymie’s heart swelled with love. “Would you do that? Really? That would be great, Val! If you like, we could spend the night in the new trailer. I haven’t been able to do that yet!”
“I’d love that. Let me go home, take care of Denver, get my PJs, and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
• • •
Hoppy was, of course, overjoyed to see Jaymie. But he had to go piddle so badly he didn’t stop to greet her. He trotted right out, down the deck and to his favorite spot in the bushes. Home at last, Jaymie switched to dinner mode; it was late, and because of the drama they had not stopped at a restaurant as she had thought they might. She was hungry, but didn’t want to suggest a restaurant, not after the tiring day they had endured. She stared into the fridge and got an idea, assembling ingredients: new potatoes, sweet onions, baby carrots.
“You know, you don’t have to do all the cooking, Jaymie,” Rachel said, standing beside her in the kitchen. “Tell me what you’re making and I’ll help!” She nabbed a Tansy butter tart from the baker’s box on the counter. “I’m starving!” she said, then bit into the tart. Her brows went up, her eyes widened and she moaned. “Oh, my goodness, sweet baby Jesus! This is delicious!” A dribble of filling leaked out of the side of her mouth and she licked it up. “Wow, you said these were good,” she said, “but this is marvelous!”
“And those are the stale ones! Wait ’til you taste them fresh.”
“Girlfriend, I’m there.” She gobbled down the rest and rinsed off her gooey hands. “I’ll go tomorrow and nab a dozen. Now, I’ve had enough to sustain me, how can I help?”
Jaymie slid a glance over at her friend; Rachel, always dependable, always sweet, always ready to help. But— “Since when do you cook?” she asked. “At school your idea of a meal was a block of ramen in the microwave. When you wanted to gourmet it up you added chopped scallions.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve gotten pretty good in the last few years. I go to visit Mom and Daddy in Jamaica and visit my grammy. She’s teaching me. I got interested and now it’s my main hobby. I will make you a jerk chicken dish that will make you weep with joy, girl.” She had copied her mother’s Jamaican accent for the last sentence.
Jaymie laughed. “You’re on! We’ll go grocery shopping one day and you can make it for me.”
“You should know all this. Don’t you ever check social media? I’m always posting photos of my food.”
Jaymie set down the package of chicken breasts she got out of the fridge, leaned against the counter and stared at her friend. “Those were meals you cooked? I thought they were restaurant meals!” They laughed together. “Okay, so . . . I’m doing what are called Hobo Packets. You take whatever meat you want and put it in a heavy foil packet with potatoes and veggies and some seasonings . . . like this,” she said, showing on her tablet a recipe she had found on Pinterest. Not much of a recipe, just a method that you tailored to your own tastes.
“Ooh, that looks good. I’ve done something similar in the oven. I can help. I know what we like and don’t.” After that Rachel took over at the kitchen counter, slicing potatoes and carrots and thick chunks of zucchini, so abundant local gardeners were giving away club-sized monstrosities by August. Jaymie left her to it. She descended to the firepit, balled up some paper, poked some fire-starter cubes into the paper folds, then crisscrossed kindling over it. She finished by propping some long sticks in a pyramid, then, flicking the barbecue lighter, she touched the tiny flame to the paper and fire starter.
The flame caught, and she blew gently as a breeze danced in the trees overhead and Hoppy sniffed at the rock garden slope. She took in a deep breath and glanced around at her tiny vintage trailer and the patio area. It wasn’t quite camping, but it was close. The fire needed to get good and hot and burn down to coals to cook properly, so she added more wood, and then layered on some charcoal briquettes.
Rachel came out at one point and wandered in the rockery, plucking things here and there, then returned to the cottage. As the sun set, the others, who had been changing their clothes, tidying themselves up and rearranging their luggage, wandered down to the fire to sit and stare and yawn. Wine was opened, tequila was poured. They talked in soft tones. Jaymie did her best to bring them together in conversation. She asked a bunch of questions. Brandi loved her kids, but hated the job she had recently quit. She was hoping to get into an aesthetician course in her town. Courtney, who sat beside her, nodded and smiled, batting her eyelashes in the vivid gold sunset light that found a spot to peek between the cottages and pines; Brandi had apparently done eyelash extensions for her.
“Who knew that was a thing?” Jaymie said. “I’ve never heard of eyelash extensions before!”
“You, my dear, don’t need them,” Brandi said, examining her lashes closely. “You’ve always had the most gorgeous lashes. Your eyes and hair have always been your best features.”
“My husband loves my hair long,” Jaymie said.
“And who wouldn’t?” Brandi said, lifting Jaymie’s ponytail, which was heavy and long. “Your hair is naturally gorgeous. Let me French braid it for you one day.”
Jaymie leaned down and hugged her; this was the Brandi she remembered, the one who would spend hours helping her friends get ready for special occasions, and who had a knack for making everyone feel beautiful.
Gabriela, wrapped in a red shawl she had crocheted for herself, was excited about an addition she and Logan were planning on the house, and maybe an addition to their family. She was hoping—trying, she said, with a smile—to get pregnant again. “You should have a baby, Jaymie! You’d make such an awesome mother!”
“I am a mother,” Jaymie replied gently. “I’m a good mother.”
“No,
but I mean of your own baby, you know . . . a child of your own.”
Jaymie took a deep breath and moved over closer to her author friend. Gabriela’s insistence on viewing Jocie as not Jaymie’s child was upsetting, but she chose to keep the peace for now. The day had been dramatic enough. She stirred the fire; the coals were almost ready. She took a low stool by Melody, but her friend was the only one who didn’t talk. She stared gloomily into the fire and glanced around uneasily, jumping at rustling in the bushes and odd noises. Jaymie frowned; her friend was still moodier than usual, and seemed anxious.
“Are you okay, Mel?” Jaymie murmured as Courtney, Brandi and Gabriela chatted.
“Yeah, I’m . . . I’m all right. I thought I saw Andrew in Grand Bend, that’s all.”
“Andrew? Your husband? Why would he be there?”
“I don’t know. But why would he friend Brandi online? That’s what I can’t figure out. The trouble is, she posts so much you can tell where we are and where we’ve been.”
Rachel yelled out the back door, “Jaymie, can I use these peppers in the fridge?”
“Use whatever you find!” she called back. She tried to get Melody to talk more, but she shook her head.
Rachel carried out a full tray of the neatly folded and sealed packets, and Jaymie, using tongs, nestled them in the bed of coals she had created. The packets sizzled on the coals, and Jaymie made a pot of tea from a blackened kettle she had always used on the fire. Valetta joined them, duffle bag in hand, right then. Jaymie jumped up and hugged her friend. “We’ll sleep in the new trailer tonight,” Jaymie said, giving her friend the tour. “You gals don’t mind, do you, Val staying out here tonight?” she asked. “You can all have a turn sleeping in the trailer, if you’d like.”
“Not me! No offense, Jaymie, but I’ll take a cottage over camping any day,” Brandi said. “I’ve slept on the ground too many times. And Val’s a welcome addition,” she added. “Better company than some people.” She shot a hostile look at Gabriela.
Her group of friends was low-key. Melody, cup of tea in hand, still stared into the fire, her gaze clouded. Gabriela was twitchy and anxious, near tears at times, brooding at others. Brandi lay back in a recliner lawn chair and snored, while Courtney sat beside her nursing a bottle of Coors and smoking her Capri Magentas.
Jaymie shrugged, sighed, and opened the door to the trailer. It was a snug fit, but there was the sofa that pulled out to be a double bed, and the dining table that flattened down, and the cushions from the seats that laid out to make another double bed. She had worked hard to get rid of the musty odor of the trailer from its years in storage.
“You’ve done a great job!” Valetta said, putting her duffle bag down on the sofa and looking around. The interior was all shades of turquoise and red, even down to a turquoise enameled teapot, with turquoise and red melamine Boontonware teacups and mugs. “I saw it in the planning stages, but you’ve done a great job!”
“Jocie is excited about it. She was disappointed we didn’t get to spend a night in it before she and Jakob went off to Poland, but I said we’d have a girls’ weekend adventure here in the fall, when the cottage is closed up and before we winterize the trailer.”
“How are they doing?” Val said, sitting down with a happy sigh. Hoppy scratched at the screen door and Jaymie let him in. He begged to be let up, and Valetta took him onto her lap. He sniffed her all over, detecting Denver’s scent.
“Good,” Jaymie said, sitting down at the dinette table and turning on the little sconce light above it, set in the bulkhead that held additional storage. “Jakob sent me pictures today. Jocie is having a ball getting to know cousins, grandparents and great-grandparents. It’s going to be hard to settle her back down when school starts, I think, after this.”
“She’s a good kid, and she loves school.”
“You’re right. I can’t wait to see them. It already feels like forever, and it’s only been a few days.”
They returned to the fire. The hobo meal packets were done. It was late, but they ate; or at least some of them ate. Brandi was ill after a day of sun, humidity and drinking. She picked at her food. Valetta raved about the unique meal, and Jaymie loved it. The packets turned out better than she anticipated.
“What spices did you use, Rach?” she asked.
“The secret to flavor is balance,” she said. “I used to put Old Bay on everything, and I still use it, but I noticed everything tasted the same because—duh—I was using the same spice on everything. You have herbs in your rockery garden, so I used rosemary—chicken’s best buddy—thyme, sea salt and fresh ground pepper. Oh, and a squeeze of lemon! And oregano . . . kind of a Greek feel to the seasonings, when I think about it.”
They got into a discussion about food, which Val entered with enthusiasm. She and Rachel talked about how hard it was to get motivated to cook for one. Val said that what she did was cook something on the weekend, like a pasta salad, that would serve if she didn’t feel like cooking or wanted a quick side dish to go with a piece of chicken. Rachel said she had taken to doing meal prep on the weekend, creating slow-cooker freezer packs that she could throw in the slow cooker before she headed out to work.
Jaymie eyed her friend with interest at how Rachel lit up as they discussed food in a way she didn’t when she talked about her day-to-day work. But as she glanced around, she realized that the others had a glazed look. Maybe they could come up with a conversation that was more interesting to the others.
“Courtney, you said you’re in hospital equipment sales,” Jaymie said. “How did you get into that?”
It worked to turn the conversation more general.
Jaymie sighed and drew her feet up under her on the sling chair she was sitting in. This moment right now—the crackling fire, the wind in the trees overhead, the sounds of night—this was finally getting to feel more like their vacations of years gone by, getting to know her friends again after time apart. Brandi had roused herself and only mentioned Terry’s behavior three or four times in a row. Courtney gave her a look, and she calmed. Melody had cheered up some, and entertained them with an impersonation of her husband, who seemed stiff and creepy at the same time. Jaymie snorted in laughter as Melody, using a faux deep voice and deliberately running the words together, said, “That snot how we do things in my family!”
And speaking of husbands, as the others did . . . Gabriela seemed to be the only one who, like Jaymie, had a good marriage. Unfortunately her worries about his silence came back as she talked about him and their daughter. “I miss them like crazy. My Fenix is a real little angel!” She sobbed. “Something is wrong. Something must be wrong or Logan would have texted or called by now!”
“Why don’t you call someone right now?” Jaymie asked. “Set your mind at ease. Surely someone at home, maybe someone from Logan’s family—you mentioned his sister—would know if something was wrong?”
“I should,” she said softly. “I just—”
There was a rustle in the darkness. A voice, calling soft and low, said, “Hello?”
Jaymie leaped from her chair. “Who’s there?” she called out.
A woman emerged out of the velvet darkness and strode toward them. Hard-featured and rail thin, she had short sandy brown hair—perfectly and elegantly feathered and curled—and a scowl that appeared to be her natural expression. A neighbor? A lost vacationer? Jaymie opened her mouth to ask, when Gabriela cried out, “Tiffany!”
The woman paused at the edge of the ring of lawn chairs and stared at Gabriela. “Gabby. How you doing?”
Gabriela jumped out of her seat, her face a mask of confusion and fear. “Is . . . is everything okay? What are you doing here? What’s wrong? Is Logan . . . is something wrong with Logan?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Everything is dandy. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Logan is okay?” Her eyes were wide, and she still looked worried.
“He’s fine. He sends his love. I missed you, that’s all. I thought I’d surp
rise you and drop in on your girls’ vacation for a few days. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
Her mouth open, Gabriela shrank back to stand behind her chair. “Of . . . of course. It’s cool to see you, sis.”
Jaymie looked from one to the other of the two women; their gazes were locked. Something passed between them. “What’s going on, Gabriela—?”
“This is Logan’s sister, my sister-in-law, Tiffany.” Gabriela turned to Jaymie with a brittle false smile. “Isn’t this fun! She just . . . dropped in.”
Brandi, from the shadows, said, with a snide tone, “Hey, Gabriela, Tiff is here! Your favorite person in the world. How nice for you.”
Eight
Jaymie, thoroughly peeved, tossed things around in the cottage. Val had followed her in and stood, watching her, a sympathetic look on her face. “This must be annoying.”
Tears of frustration welling in her eyes, Jaymie turned to her friend. “Is it too much to ask that if people are bringing people with them, or having them drop in, that I be told ahead of time? As the host? I mean, really . . . am I being a witch for getting annoyed?”
Tiffany had made it plain that she expected to crash at the cottage for a few days. She didn’t seem apologetic in the slightest. She said she had a cooler of beer, bottles of wine, and another cooler of steaks in her car, which she had brought over on the ferry, though parking at the cottage was limited and cars were discouraged on the island.
“You have a right to be angry, kiddo. I get it. But . . . you have to live with them all for a while. How you handle this may determine how the rest of your vacation goes.” Valetta hugged her. “I’ll go back out and babysit the happy campers.”
Jaymie made sure there was space for Tiffany, and room on the dresser for her toiletries. The woman entered with an enormous suitcase, suitable for a three-week cruise, and another bag of toiletries and hair appliances, which she plopped on the floor by the dresser and unpacked. She had shampoos, conditioners, a flatiron, a blow dryer—one of the five-hundred-dollar ones—a curling iron, mousse and assorted other hair products. She pushed the others women’s stuff aside to make more room for her own.
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