Lost Lake (Lost Lake, #1)(23)

“Do you mean Selma?” Kate nodded to Selma, who was now laughing at something the man stocking Bosc pears was saying.

The girl made a face. “That’s her.”

“She drove in with us.”

“My condolences. Now the little old lady, I like. She always buys wine, and when the checkout girls ask for her birth date for the register, she always makes things up. October twelfth, 1492. July fourth, 1776.” They both watched as Bulahdeen took her place in line at the checkout. She was carrying so many bottles that she had to lean back. Devin was hovering close behind her, as if to catch her if she fell. “I can’t believe she’s buying more wine. She was just in here yesterday.”

Kate smiled and turned back to the girl. “She’s throwing a farewell party for Eby.”

“So it’s true?” The girl asked. “Eby is selling Lost Lake? Yesterday, Bulahdeen said Eby was selling, but, you know, it’s Bulahdeen. I didn’t know if it was true or not.”

“It’s true. At least, that’s what Eby says.”

“That makes me sad. I haven’t seen Eby in a while, but she was always nice to me. When I was in high school, she let me bring my boyfriends out to the lake, and we’d borrow one of her rowboats because she always said the middle of a lake was the best place to fall in love.” The girl absentmindedly began to pick at the clumps of thick mascara sticking to her lashes. “When is the party?”

“Saturday afternoon, I think.”

The girl nodded, then turned and grabbed a cardboard box from the stack behind her and went to get Lisette’s special-order groceries from the back.

“I think I may have inadvertently invited the girl at the front desk to the party,” Kate said, joining Bulahdeen and Devin in line. She took a few bottles from Bulahdeen’s load.

“Oh, that’s all right,” Bulahdeen said. “The more the merrier.”

“The more the merrier? What do you mean?” Selma asked, walking over to them. The four of them together drew some attention. They didn’t look like your average tourists: an older woman in a tight red dress and heels; an elderly woman with her arms full of wine bottles; a toe-headed girl in glasses, a tutu, and a bike helmet; and Kate. All before noon.

“The owner’s daughter. Brittany. She’s coming to the farewell party,” Bulahdeen said.

“That girl hates me,” Selma said.

“She might not if you stopped flirting with her daddy. You’re not coming anyway. What’s it to you?”

Selma shook her head and walked away. “It’s nothing to me.”





6


Minutes later, from the shop across the street, Wes Patterson watched a tall young woman walk out of the Fresh Mart. Her brown hair was a mass of short layers that, as she walked, fell loosely into her eyes. She pushed it away with her fingers, stopping to look around the circle as she did so. For a moment, staring into the distance, her hand holding her hair back, she had that look people often have on the beach, looking out into the expanse of the ocean. Like she couldn’t believe there was just so much in front of her. She seemed a little lost. But she smiled and turned when the bag boy from the Fresh Mart said something to her. She opened the hatchback of a green Subaru, and the bag boy placed a large box of groceries inside for her. She tipped him, then helped an old lady carrying several bottles of wine into the passenger seat.

Her hair had been longer that summer when they were kids, the dark color an amazing contrast to her eyes, which were the exact bright green of summer morning grass. He couldn’t stop staring. He’d recognized her immediately. He’d often wondered if he would, if he ever saw her again. She was older, of course, with curves and angles that newly fascinated him because they hadn’t been there before. But he’d still know Kate anywhere. She’d given him the best summer he’d ever had, which he could never think of without thinking about the worst time in his life, which had come directly after.

She had a child with her. She didn’t look much like Kate, but the girl was undoubtedly her daughter. There was just something so Kate about her. She was exactly the child he imagined Kate would have had.

What was she doing here, after all this time? He began to feel vaguely uncomfortable, like that moment you first realize you’ve lost your wallet. He actually reached back to feel if he still had his wallet in his back pocket and if his keys were still in the front.

She was with two guests Wes remembered from his years at the lake. That meant she was here to see Eby and it had nothing to do with him or the letter. That should have made him feel better, but it only made him more restless.

“Now that is a fine-looking woman,” the older man sitting beside him at the counter said, having followed Wes’s gaze out the large front window.

“She’s a little young for you, don’t you think?” Wes asked.

“Not the mother. The redhead,” he said, watching Selma open the back car door and wait for the child to climb in first. Selma hesitated, as if knowing she was being watched. She smiled slightly, then ducked into the car, lifting her skirt high as she pulled her bare legs in last, giving them a show. “I’ve always had a thing for redheads.”

“Has Deloris changed her hair color?” Wes asked the man.

“No, she’s still a brunette,” he said, taking one last bite of the slice of ham-and-pineapple pizza in front of him. He wiped his mouth on a greasy paper napkin, then tossed it onto the counter. “I’ll be at the Water Park Hotel with Deloris and the girls for a few days. The lawyer is coming this weekend with the paperwork. I’m glad to be doing business with you, son. We’re going to do great things with that property.” He held out his hand.