The Rest of the Story(30)

“Trinity,” her sister said, her voice like a warning shot.

“After seven years,” I replied. “And it was a mutual decision, from what I’ve heard.”

Again, silence. Down at the shore, some ducks quacked as they walked along the small waves breaking there.

Trinity sighed, then looked up at the sky overhead. “Saylor. I don’t mean to insult you or your mom and dad.”

“It’s never your intention,” Bailey grumbled. “You just do.”

“I’m not insulted,” I told her. And I wasn’t. I just knew so little of the history around here: when something came up I could claim, I wanted it to be correct. “But for what it’s worth, my dad’s a good guy. Even if he was a yacht club boy once.”

“Fine, they’re all probably wonderful,” Trinity said. “I still don’t want to hang out with them. Which is a moot point anyway because the Sergeant and I are doing a HiThere! tonight.”

“We just went through all that and you’re not even going with us?” Bailey asked.

“You know I haven’t gone out since I got huge.” Trinity swung her legs around, off the bench, then grunted as she got to her feet. “But Saylor is.”

“I am?” I asked.

“You have to,” she replied, starting up to the house. “Otherwise she’s going alone, and cousins don’t let cousins do that. Especially with yacht club boys.”

With this, she started up the hill to the house. I looked at Bailey, who was angrily picking at her chicken leg again. “You don’t have to include me,” I said. “She’s just being nice.”

She looked up at me. “Trinity? Nice? Since when?”

“Since I worked with her today,” I said. Hardly convinced, she went back to her food. “And maybe it’s more like nice-ish. I don’t think she hates me anymore, at any rate.”

“You cleaned rooms?” she asked. “Wow. I’m surprised.”

This again. In a tired voice, I said, “Because you thought I was the spoiled rich cousin just here to relax and hang out?”

She blinked, hearing this. “Well . . . that is kind of what Mimi said.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m not. At least, I don’t want to be.”

We were both quiet a moment. Up at the house, the screen door slammed.

I picked up my drink, taking a sip. “So tell me about these boys.”

She smiled. The change in subject was like that in the weather, the equivalent of a sudden cool breeze. Everything just felt different. “They’re nice. Roommates at East U, just finished their freshman year.”

“How’d you meet them?”

She wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “Where I meet everyone: the Station.”

“You work there every summer?”

“Since I was fourteen. That’s how it goes with a family business. You pitch in as soon as you can,” she replied. That sounded familiar. “Trinity only ever worked the arcade and the snack bar, which is why she’s so narrow-minded about Lake North folks. But like I said, working the pumps is different. You meet everyone there.”

I put down my fork. “When my mom used to talk about this place, she never mentioned there were basically two different lakes. I had no idea.”

“Well, it probably wasn’t a bad thing as far as she was concerned, right? I mean, she did meet your dad that way.”

She stopped talking then, clearly not sure whether this topic was all right to return to or still needed to be avoided. Taking out the guesswork, I said, “Do people here hate him?”

She turned to face me. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. Why would they?”

I shrugged. “Because he was a rich yacht club boy. And he took her from here, and then she died.”

“Because she was an addict,” she replied. Immediately, she put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, shit, Emma. I can’t believe I just said that. I’m—”

“It’s okay.” I bit my lip, then took a breath. “She was. The truth hurts, but there it is. I just wondered if everyone thought that might be Dad’s fault, too.”

“No.” She said this so flatly, so quickly, I immediately believed her. “Look, again, I don’t mean offense or to dishonor anyone’s memory. All I’ve ever heard was how much everyone loved Waverly. But they also know she had problems long before and after he came along. I mean, that night with Chris Price, your dad wasn’t even here.”

Chris Price. It took a minute. “Roo’s dad,” I said finally.

She nodded. “He was her best friend. And she was with him that night, you know, when the boat crashed.”

I didn’t know. For all the stories, she’d never told this one. “What happened?”

Just then, though, I heard it: boys’ voices, coming from the lawn above us. When I looked up, there were Roo and Jack, climbing out of a beat-up VW that had pulled up by the back steps.

“Yo!” Jack yelled. “I hear there’s no plan for tonight. What gives?”

Bailey, too annoyed to even answer, just sighed and went back to her dinner. As she did, I watched the boys disappear into the house before re-emerging in the bright kitchen above, where they grabbed plates and descended on the chicken that remained. Clearly, the moment had passed to get the answer to my question and the story I’d not yet heard. Now, I turned back to the lake, looking past the church and that big white cross, over to the other side. From the way Trinity acted, it was another world. But really, how different could it be?