Lost Lake (Lost Lake, #1)(13)

Eby took the card and stared at it, a small change coming over her, as if she’d taken a step back from them without even moving. “Your mother and I left on a bad note. I regret that. How is Quinn?” she asked cautiously, handing the card back to Kate.

Kate blinked in surprise. But of course Eby wouldn’t have known. “Mom passed away six years ago.”

Eby’s hand went to her chest and patted it softly, as if trying to calm something inside. “I’m so sorry,” she finally said. “I … oh. I don’t know what to say. Your father?”

“He’s gone, too. Almost ten years before Mom.”

“My dad died, too,” Devin said. “Last year.”

Eby focused on Devin, her brown eyes sympathetic. She reached over and touched Devin’s shoulder. “That must have been very hard for you.” Eby’s gaze shifted to Kate with growing concern, as if Kate was newly fragile, as if the glue hadn’t set and she might fall apart at any moment.

“We’re okay,” Kate said. “It’s been a hard year, but we’re okay.” She was feeling awkward now, like they were unburdening their grief on a stranger. “I didn’t mean to bring you bad news. We won’t stay long. I just wanted to see you again.”

“Won’t stay?” Eby said. “Of course you’ll stay! Let’s tell Lisette you’re here. She’ll be so excited to have more people to cook for. It looks like she already set out some things for you, left over from lunch.” She nodded to the Blue Willow platter.

Kate followed Eby. She didn’t have to tell Devin to join them. Devin was spellbound. Eby led them through a swinging door into a surprisingly modern kitchen. It was like walking into another house entirely. It was windowless but bright, with stainless steel that sparkled.

Completely out of place was an old chair by the refrigerator. It was tilted back against the wall, as if someone were sitting there. Devin stared at the chair curiously.

A small woman, probably in her sixties, turned from the stove. Her hair was as dark and shiny as a wet otter’s. There was a dramatic gray streak in it, toward the back, and it peeked out as she moved. “More guests, Lisette! Look who it is! It’s my niece Kate! I told you she’d be back one day. And she brought her daughter, Devin.”

Lisette gave Eby a look Kate couldn’t decipher before she smiled and, without a word, walked over and kissed their cheeks.

Eby said, “Kate, I don’t know if you remember, but this is Lisette Durand. She’s been my best friend for fifty years and the inimitable cook at Lost Lake for almost that long.”

Kate didn’t remember Lisette, but maybe she would later, like a figure forming in the fog. Bits and pieces of that summer were coming back to her. For years, she’d only had vague impressions, but very real emotions, about Lost Lake. She remembered feeling happy here. She could remember that very clearly. “Thank you for the food you set out for us,” Kate said.

Lisette bowed her head modestly.

“Lisette’s father owned a famous restaurant in Paris. La Maison Durand. Hemingway ate there once,” Eby said. “She learned to cook from him. Her father, not Hemingway. I’ll be right back with the linens for your beds.”

As Eby disappeared down the hallway, Lisette lifted a small notepad tied around her neck and began to write: Do not believe a word she says. Hemingway never ate at my father’s restaurant. And my father taught me nothing. The turd. I learned everything I know from a handsome young chef named Robert. He was in love with me.

Eby walked back into the kitchen with some folded plaid sheets under her arm. “Lisette can’t speak,” Eby explained when she saw Kate’s expression. “She was born without a voice box.”

“What’s a voice box?” Devin asked excitedly, as if it might be something real, something tangible, a secret wooden box somewhere with Lisette’s voice hidden inside.

“I’ll explain later,” Kate said.

“Come on, girls. Let’s get you settled.”

As they walked out, Lisette tore the note she’d written out of the pad and turned on a burner on the stove. She burned the note, and it disappeared in a whoosh of sparks and ash, like a magician’s trick.

Devin walked out backward, to stare as long as she could.

“Grab your plate, and I’ll show you to your cabin,” Eby said as she took a key from behind the check-in desk.

They walked out together, and Kate led them to the Subaru. “Where is everyone?” she asked, opening the hatch with one hand, the plate in the other.

Eby turned and looked at the lawn. There was a wistfulness to her gaze, but also a small sense of frustration. “Two guests arrived, just before you. They’re here for old time’s sake. I’ve recently decided to sell. This is the last summer of Lost Lake.”

Kate realized that they had landed in another big aftermath in Eby’s life, just like last time, when they’d visited right after George had died. It was like they were that strange debris that always washed up after a storm. “I’m sorry. We won’t stay long.”

Eby patted her cheek. The large green stone ring on her finger was cool and calming against Kate’s skin, like a gypsy’s touch. “You can stay as long as you’d like.” She turned to the car. “You certainly brought a lot of luggage.”