Lost Lake (Lost Lake, #1)(12)

“No,” Devin said, suddenly panicked. “I have to go to Lost Lake and have the last best summer, like you had!”

Kate reached over and touched Devin’s fine hair. She could feel the warmth of her scalp through it, the delicate shape of her head. “Oh, Devin. I had plenty of good summers after that one. And so will you. But it’s been years since I’ve been to this place. I’ve forgotten where it is. GPS doesn’t even know. It’s probably not there anymore.”

“Mom,” Devin said, confused, “we’re here.” She pointed straight ahead. Kate followed her finger to the small wooden sign in front of the car on the side of the road. Hand-soldered onto it were the words LOST LAKE—TURN LEFT.

Stunned, Kate looked across the highway.

There was the old gravel road, just a tiny break in the dense trees, leading to their destination.

*

The road to the camp was bumpy, and the overgrowth of trees made it seem like they were driving through a tunnel. The ground began to grow soft under her wheels; she could feel the pull and give. Suddenly, the road opened up and a large lawn appeared in front of them. The grass needed mowing, and the redbrick barbecue grills were starting to crumble. The picnic tables needed a good coat of paint to save them from rot, and the umbrellas were old and thin, meekly shielding the tables from the sun.

To the left of the lawn was a narrow yellow two-story house that leaned slightly to the side, as if giving room to something large passing by. To the right was Lost Lake itself, a dense round plop of gray-green water surrounded by trees with Spanish moss hanging from their limbs, like the long hair of ladies dipping their heads to sip from the lake.

“Wow,” Devin said, her head darting around. “I didn’t think it would look like this!”

“I didn’t, either,” Kate said as she slowly navigated the car around the driveway circling the lawn. They passed thirteen ramshackle cabins at the far end, painted in fading Halloween-storybook colors of black, brown, and orange, with mossy stone walkways in between. There were no signs that the cabins were occupied—no shoes left on the stoops, no folding lawn chairs propped against the walls.

Kate circled all the way to the spindly two-story house, then parked. When they got out and shut the doors, the sound echoed over the lake. There was the scent of something green in the air, like wet grass or peeled cucumbers.

She didn’t know why she felt so disappointed. Of course the place would have changed. It was inevitable.

They walked inside, and a bell over the door rang. The place smelled of wet wood and cool air from the AC, like an old sea museum. There was no one at the old curved check-in desk in the small foyer, so they looked in the sitting room first, which was filled with dusty chintz furniture and a wall of built-in shelves, sagging with the weight of hundreds of books. Next they went to the informal dining room, where there were several mismatched café tables and chairs. The walls with faded purple wallpaper and the dark narrow floorboards looked scrubbed within an inch of their lives, as if, every day, someone diligently scrubbed back the damp.

“Hello?” Kate called.

No answer.

“Eby?”

Again, no answer.

“Are we the only ones staying here?” Devin asked as they walked back to the check-in desk.

“I don’t think we’re staying, sweetheart. I don’t think it’s open.”

But then, as if in response, the scent of something savory curled over and tapped her on the shoulder. She automatically turned to look back into the dining room. It was still dark and empty, but now there was a single Blue Willow platter on the buffet table on the far side of the room. She could have sworn it hadn’t been there before. She walked over to it. On it were several small ham-and-cheese puff pastries and two large slices of plum cake. Devin joined her, standing over the platter and inhaling deeply.

“Did you see who left this?” Kate asked her daughter.

Devin shook her head.

At that moment, the bell above the front door rang again and a tall slim woman in her seventies appeared in the foyer. She stopped when she saw Kate and Devin in the dining room, startled out of the reverie of her thoughts, which were obviously millions of miles away. Her silver hair was long, reaching almost to her waist, and she had it pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore jeans and a white T-shirt and jewelry made of large green stones.

She hadn’t changed. Everything else here might have, but she hadn’t.

“Eby,” Kate said with a smile and a sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath, waiting for this to happen.

“Yes?”

“I’m Kate Pheris.” Eby didn’t respond. Kate shook her head and clarified: “I used to be Kate Snoderly. I’m your great-niece.”

“Kate!” Eby said with sudden recognition. She laughed as she strode into the dining room and drew Kate into her arms. Kate hugged her back, feeling the sharp bones in her great-aunt’s lithe frame. She smelled the same, like a vacation, like pretzels and taffy. “I can’t believe it. You came back!”

When Eby pulled back, Kate said, “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Devin.”

“Hello, Devin. What a lovely outfit,” she said sincerely. She turned to Kate. “I’m overwhelmed. What are you doing here?”

“We’re in the middle of moving, and this morning we found this postcard,” Kate said, taking the folded card out of her pocket, “the one you sent after Mom and Dad and I left all those years ago. I didn’t know about it. Mom kept it from me. Devin and I decided to take a road trip to see you again. To see if Lost Lake was still here.”