The House Across the Lake(19)

Katherine hops out of the boat as her husband ties it to the dock. She presents the blanket like it’s a satin pillow with a tiara on top. “Washed and dried,” she says as she presses it into my hands. “Thanks for letting me keep it earlier.”

I tuck the blanket under one arm and try to shake Katherine’s hand with the other. She surprises me with a hug, capping it with a kiss on both cheeks, like we’re old friends and not two people who met in the middle of the lake a few hours ago. The warm greeting brings with it a twinge of guilt for spying on them.

As Tom comes toward me, I can’t help but think about how he looked when eavesdropping on his wife.

And that is what he was doing.

Eavesdropping. Listening in. Spying on her as blatantly as I was spying on him. All with that unreadable expression on his face.

“Sorry for dropping by unannounced,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

Unlike his wife, he settles for a handshake. His grip is too firm, too eager. When he pumps my hand, it almost knocks me off-balance. Now I know what Marnie meant by intense. Instead of friendly, the handshake comes off like an unnecessary show of strength. He stares at me as he does it, his eyes so dark they’re almost black.

I wonder how I look to him in my slightly drunken state. Glassy-eyed, probably. Face flushed. Sweat forming along my hairline.

“Thank you for coming to Katherine’s rescue today.” Tom’s voice is deep, which might be why his words sound insincere. A baritone like that doesn’t leave much room for nuance. “I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been there to save her.”

I glance up at the porch, where Eli stands at the railing. He arches his brows, silently chastising me for failing to mention that over dinner.

“It was nothing,” I say. “Katherine pretty much saved herself. I just provided the boat that took her home.”

“Liar.” Katherine wraps an arm around my waist and walks me up the dock, as though I’m the sudden guest in this situation. Over her shoulder, she tells her husband, “Casey’s being modest. She did all the rescuing.”

“I told her not to swim in the lake,” Tom says. “It’s too dangerous. People have drowned in there.”

Katherine gives me a look of utter mortification. “I’m so sorry,” she tells me before turning to her husband. “God, Tom, must you always say the wrong thing?”

It takes him another second to understand what she’s talking about. The realization, when it dawns, drains the color from his face.

“Shit,” he says. “I’m an idiot, Casey. Truly. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “You didn’t say anything that’s not true.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” Katherine says. “Tom would be devastated if you were mad at him. He’s such a fan.”

“I really am,” he says. “We saw you in Shred of Doubt. You were amazing. Just fantastic.”

We reach the porch steps, Katherine and me climbing them in tandem, Tom at our backs. He’s so close his breath hits the nape of my neck. Again, I think of him creeping across the first floor of their house. I sneak a glance at Katherine, recalling the way she looked when she spotted her husband lurking at the edge of the dining room.

Startled, then scared.

She doesn’t seem scared now, which makes me start to doubt she was then. It’s more likely she was merely surprised and that I’d misread the situation entirely. It wouldn’t be the first time.

On the porch, Eli greets the Royces with the familiarity of neighbors who’ve spent an entire summer next to each other.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again until next summer,” he says.

“This was an impromptu trip,” Tom tells him. “Katie missed the lake and I wanted to see the foliage.”

“How long do you plan on staying?”

“The plan was to wing it. A week. Maybe two. But that was before Trish decided to come our way.”

“I still think we should stay,” Katherine says. “How bad could it really get?”

Eli runs a hand through his snowy beard. “Worse than you think. The lake looks peaceful now, but looks can be deceiving. Especially in a storm.”

Their small talk makes me feel like an outsider, even though my family has been coming to Lake Greene the longest. I think about what might have been if Len hadn’t died and we’d ended up living here full-time.

Maybe there’d be many impromptu gatherings like this.

Maybe I wouldn’t be eyeing the wine bottles in Tom’s hand with such thirst.

“I’ll grab glasses and a corkscrew,” I say.

I move into the house, finding the corkscrew still sitting on the dining room table. I then go to the liquor cabinet and grab four fresh wineglasses.

Out on the porch, the small talk continues, with Eli asking them, “How’s the house been treating you?”

“We adore it,” Tom says. “It’s perfect. We spent the past few summers in the area. A different rental on a different lake every year. When we finally decided to buy, we couldn’t believe our luck when our Realtor told us there was a property for sale on Lake Greene.”

I return to the porch, corkscrew and wineglasses in hand. I give a glass to everyone but Eli, who declines with a shake of his head and a pointed look that suggests I shouldn’t have any, either.