“What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “Why are you smiling? You never smile.”
Shit. I didn’t realize my face was betraying me. When I’m unable to wipe the grin off my face, I mask it by choking down another bite of spaghetti. She’s still staring at me when I swallow so I say, “Just imagining all the ways you’re going to embarrass yourself in front of a celebrity.”
She snorts. “Please. I guarantee we’ll be best friends by the end of the summer.”
I wouldn’t put it past her. Shelby is one of those people everyone flocks to. I bet there are a dozen women in this town who would tell you she’s their best friend, and every one of them would be right.
I feel a tug on my shirt sleeve. Charlotte is looking up at me with big, brown eyes. There’s a crust of cheese in the corner of her mouth.
“Let’s play restaurant!” she commands gleefully.
“Sounds perfect. I’m starving.”
Shelby shoots me a warning look.
“Fordessert,” I quickly add. “What are you making us, Chef?”
Charlotte shoots me a devilish grin. “Fish.”
“Yum. Just what I’m in the mood for. Let me help clear the table and I’ll be right there, okay?”
Charlotte nods, then scampers off to her playroom.
As I start stacking the plates, I remind myself that this is what’s real. My niece. My family. My present-day responsibilities. Not some childhood crush who has probably grown up to become a completely different person. Time for a reality check. I’m an adult now and with that comes the responsibility of holding this family and our business together. My dad built Legacy Builders from the ground up, and while spending my life at the helm may not have been my intention, it is my reality. He sacrificed so much to make this company a success, to give me and Toby the best life possible. The least I can do is honor him by preserving it.
That means I need to put my head down, stay focused, and do the work. It’s time to let go of these ridiculous thoughts about Marissa. The sooner I can convince myself to leave that ghost in the past, the better off I’ll be.
5MARISSA
I assumed I’d fall asleep immediately after a long day of travel, but by 10PM, I’m still wide awake, brain whirling as I study a rust stain on the ceiling.
Maybe it’s all the unfamiliar noises keeping me up. I’ve forgotten how loud nighttime in the Poconos can be, with its chirping katydids and hooting owls. The rustle of animals moving through the forest, snapping twigs and crunching dry leaves beneath their feet. These sounds were a soothing summer lullaby when I was a kid. But now I’ve been gone too long, and it all feels foreign. I’ve gotten used to my quiet neighborhood, perched high on the winding roads where traffic is blessedly absent and the only sound is a rare coyote at night.
Or maybe it’s the ever-present mom guilt. My brain started its nightly review of worries as soon as I slid beneath the covers, narrating them in Don LaFontaine’s voice like an old-school movie trailer.
“In a world where the only place to escape the spotlight is in a neighborhood literally called the Hideaway, one woman is about to discover if her choices will ruin everything. This summer, find out if Marissa Morgan’s daughter ever lets go of her grudge. Will their sanctuary truly be a safe space for her son, or has she done more harm than good by changing their plans? Or is there something evenworse afoot, some new way she’s about to let them down that she hasn’t even considered yet?”
With a frustrated sigh, I fling back the quilt, slide my feet into a pair of sandals, and tiptoe out into the hallway and down the stairs.
The mountain air is cool and refreshing as I step onto the back patio. The ambient noises are even louder here, yet somehow more peaceful. The golden glow of fireflies flickers across the yard. Beyond it, moonlight glitters on the lake.
The warped wooden planks groan beneath me as I make my way to the edge of the dock. I slip off my shoes, setting them neatly beside me, and then dangle my bare feet over the edge. The moment my toes graze water, I feel myself transform, shedding every new identity I’ve acquired over the years. I’m no longer a mom, or an ex-wife, or a “whatever happened to her” celebrity.
I’m just me again. Marissa.
It’s hard to believe how much time has passed since I last sat here. A lifetime, really. I only made it back to the lake house once after I landed my role onLittle LLC. At first, the issue was scheduling. We filmed over the summer to ensure we’d have new episodes for the fall. Every year, I promised my grandmother that it was temporary, that I’d be back the following summer. But one year rolled into the next, and even when the show ended, I still managed to find excuses.
A therapist once told me I avoided coming back because I didn’t want my parents’ divorce tainting my happy childhood memories. Things between them were already tense when my mom and I moved to California, and they got worse every summer until they fell apart for good. Avoiding a place that once brought me so much joy was a defense mechanism, the therapist insisted. It was easier to preserve those bittersweet family memories than accept we’d never make new ones. I suspect it’s why I never brought Rocky here, either. Subconsciously, Ididn’t want to spoil my rose-tinted memories with the grittiness of reality. Nostalgia is a powerful drug.
I think I also worried that nostalgia had warped my recollections. What if the lake wasn’t as perfect as I remembered it? Fortunately, that concern feels unwarranted. Sitting here, I feel the same sense of peace I did as a kid. Only now, there’s one important thing missing: my grandma.
We saw Grandma Judy a few times throughout the year, but we only got to spend long stretches of time together in the summer. She is in the backdrop of every summer memory: flipping French toast on the griddle, waving to me from an Adirondack chair, cheering loudly as I jumped off inflatables with the neighborhood kids. And even though she was my mom’s mom, she never took a side in my parents’ divorce. That’s just who she was: loving, fair, clear-headed. Wanting the best for everyone, including me. All she wanted was to spend time with us. A fresh wave of guilt washes over me as I consider how infrequently I visited her during her last years. I know I was busy with my own kids, especially Levi. But I could have made time. I should have made time.
My grandma was so proud of my career. I wonder what she’d make of my decision to put it on the back burner to focus on my kids. She never got to make that choice herself. Her husband, my grandfather, died when my mom was five, so Grandma was a single mom who needed to support her family. She built a network of friends and neighbors, put herself through night school, and worked as a librarian for over thirty years.
Even after retiring, she was still a frequent library patron. One of my favorite summer activities was going to the library with her the day after arrival and checking out an armful of books. She’s one of the reasons I’m a lifelong reader.
“You need to read a lot if you’re going to be an actress,” she always told me. “Reading helps you get into someone else’s head.Walk in their shoes, understand different feelings and experiences. Plus, you’ll need strong reading skills for all those scripts.”
