As soon as she turns the knob, the room fills with a clicking noise followed by warm but dusty air beginning to circulate.
“Sorry,” she says, hurrying to the door in the center of the glass front and opening it. “The cottage has beenclosed up for a while. That smell will clear out as soon as the dust in the ducts burns away.”
I walk up behind her and peer over her shoulder to the outside. It’s not easy to see in the dark, but past the screen door, I make out a porch that extends the full width of the cottage. Beyond that are stairs going down to a grassy lawn, followed by sandy beach. From the beach there is a white wooden dock protruding out into the water. Nothing but darkness can be seen farther away.
“Docks already in?” I ask, knowing they must be removed every autumn in preparation for the lake freezing.
“Yeah, the season is about to start. Hank and I...” Her words trail away as she lets out a long breath.
Trying to ease the tension, I turn back to the living room. “Your parents have done a great job updating these.”
“One at a time. This one was first because it’s smallest. Cottage six has a hot tub on the deck and four bedrooms. They’ve talked about putting in a pool for all the cottages to share.”
“A pool? There’s the lake.”
“All the big houses have them. You big-city folks are afraid of what lurks at the bottom of a lake.”
It’s my turn to smile. “It’s been a long time, but damn, we used to spend all summer diving down to the unknown.”
“With the sand and muck squishing between our toes.”
The emotions from earlier come back vigorously.Maybe it was the two double whiskies. Whatever the cause, I’m fighting tears again. Turning away, I notice a small hallway that appears to T to two bedrooms, one door to each side, with a full bathroom in between. When I turn back, Becky is staring at me. “Thank you,” I say. “This place is better than perfect.”
“Washer and dryer are off the kitchen.”
I nod.
“How long do you think you’ll need it?” she asks.
“I don’t know for sure. I had dinner at the Walleye Tavern.”
Her lips straighten. “Who saw you?”
“Theo, Theo Morton.”
“Father or son?”
“Son.” I raise my eyebrows. “I didn’t recognize him. He’s grown up.”
“So have you.” She turns and sits on the overstuffed sofa. It’s shaped like an L, to facilitate viewing the fireplace and windows simultaneously. It’s covered with a navy slipcover and too many blue and white nautical throw pillows. “Jillian, you look great. Theo won’t say anything. He’s a good guy, but damn, the Walleye Tavern on a Friday night…” She shakes her head. “I’d be surprised if Shannon hasn’t already gotten a call.”
“I don’t know how recognizable I am to these people.”
“These people? The people who you grew up with?”
I shrug. “I didn’t recognize Theo.”
Becky smiles as her brown eyes shine. “Well, he was a year younger than us and” —her smile grows— “as yousaid, he’s grown up.” She tilts her head. “Are you staying for Julie’s graduation?”
Shit. How could I have forgotten that was coming?
I spin in place before plopping down next to her. “I definitely win the shitty-sister-of-the-year award.”
“Yeah, you hadn’t mentioned it, so I thought before you saw your mom?—”
“First the cottage and now that reminder, I owe you.” Becky and I talk on the phone at least once a month, but no phone conversation is like looking her in the eye. I reach out and place my hand on her knee. “How are you doing?”
“Good. Really,” she replies less than convincingly. “So, you don’t know how long you need the cottage?”
