The Rest of the Story(69)

“But it’s selective, only what he chose to share.” I looked at my fingers, spread out on the table in front of me. “I feel like I missed so much. Like knowing you, and Celeste and her kids, and the lake. All the stuff I only found here, in these last three weeks.”

Mimi slid her hand, tan and knotted with veins and sunspots, across to cover mine. “We never stopped thinking about you, honey. I hope you know that.”

“That’s just the thing, though,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking about you. Because I didn’t know to.”

“But now you do. So you will.”

I swallowed, hard, and she gave my hand a squeeze. Finally I said, “Thank you for having me. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“By coming back,” she said, and smiled. “And when you do, we’ll be waiting.”

Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked, just as Oxford came downstairs, whistling softly as he did so. Seeing us, he said, “What’s everyone doing up so early?”

“I’m always up at this time, you know that,” Mimi told him, getting to her feet. “You hungry?”

“Wouldn’t say no to some toast,” he replied. As he reached for the paper, he said to me, “You want the obits?”

“I will,” I said as he shook out the main section, glancing at the front page. “But first I have something to do.”

Mimi glanced at the clock over the stove. “You know it’s only six a.m., right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”

I pushed back my chair and took my glass to the sink, which still had dishes in it from the night before. Had they even noticed the times I’d washed everything and put it away? Maybe not. But it had made me feel good. Like I was part of all this, in my own fashion.

“You want to borrow the car?” Mimi asked when I came downstairs after grabbing my shoes and wallet and pulling a brush through my hair. “I can get the keys.”

“No, I’m good to walk,” I told her. Then I waved and started down the hallway before she could ask any more questions or, God forbid, insist I drive.

At Calvander’s, all the guest-room doors were closed, the beach empty. When I got to the road, instead of going left, I turned the other way. About a block ahead, just beyond a sign that said LAKE NORTH, 3 MILES, I could see Conroy Market, brightly lit and open. It wasn’t a long way, but enough to at least try to clear my head, which I needed, especially after what had happened between Bailey and me the night before.

“Where have you been?” she’d demanded when she appeared in my room after I got back with the album. “I sent you a text. We need to talk.”

“I went to see Roo,” I told her. “What’s going on?”

She shut the door behind her, then came over, climbing up to sit opposite me. “Colin called.”

I just looked at her. “And?”

“And,” she said slowly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “we talked.”

“Talked?” I repeated. “About what? The fact that he’s a jerk?”

Clearly, the answer to this was no: instead of replying, she scooted a bit closer, lowering her voice. “Look. What he did was awful. But he did explain.”

“You can’t explain blowing someone off for a formal dance,” I said, surprised at how angry I was getting. “It’s horrible.”

She looked doubtful, as if this was in question. “Well—”

“Bailey. He had a girlfriend the whole time you guys were hanging out.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” she protested. “See, they were basically on a break for the summer, except that he’d mentioned Club Prom to her months ago, and she wanted to come see the lake, so . . .”

“He asked you to go with him,” I said.

“Because he didn’t think she’d actually follow through and come! But then, you know, she did. And he was stuck.”

“Huh,” I said.

“I know!” she said quickly, encouraged, as if I’d agreed with her, which I hadn’t. “He’s not a bad guy, Saylor. He just screwed up. And he’s really sorry.”

“Bailey.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re not going to get back together with him, are you? Because that’s—”

“We’re talking,” she said again. I already hated this phrase. “And he invited us over tonight, because they’re having a Campus party. Will you come?”

“No,” I said.

She blinked. “You didn’t even think about it!”

“I don’t have to,” I said. “I don’t want anything to do with those guys.”

“Saylor,” she groaned, adding syllables to my name to draw it out. “If you don’t come, I have to go alone. Is that what you want?”

“What I want,” I replied, “is for you to realize that you deserve better than someone who would stand you up when you are all dressed up for an event to which they invited you and then not apologize for, like, days.”

“Saylor.”

“I’m not going,” I said, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, this is my last night. I want to spend it here.”

She looked at me, surprised. “Your last night? What do you mean?”