The Rest of the Story(73)

“Me too,” I said.

She bent down a bit. “So, Anna Gordon. What are you reading?”

Gordon held out her book. “It’s the Allies series.”

“That’s the chimpanzees, right?” Tracy took the book, flipping it over. “I have patients who are nuts for these books.”

Gordon looked at me. “Tracy and Dad are both dentists,” I explained.

Instantly, she looked worried, biting her mouth shut.

“But not for another two weeks,” Tracy said quickly, handing the book back. She took a look around. “Wow, it’s great to finally see this place. It’s gorgeous, just like your dad said!”

“Well, we’re not going to be here,” I pointed out. “Lake North is different.”

“Not that much,” my dad said. To Tracy he explained, “It’s three miles down the road, with more new construction, bigger houses. But basically it’s all the same no matter where you are on the lake.”

It wasn’t, though, and he’d been the first one to tell me so, when we first pulled up to the sign with two opposite arrows. But I chose not to point this out. “It’s too bad we aren’t staying here,” Tracy said, looking at the Calvander’s office, with its rock garden and blinking VACANCY sign. “It’s charming.”

“You could,” I offered quickly. “There are rooms available.”

“But Nana made her own plans,” my dad said. “We’ll come visit, though, when it’s a more decent hour. Is Mimi up yet? I’d love to thank her in person.”

“She went to Delaney,” Gordon informed him. “Room ten needed new screens.”

“Well, we’ll definitely be back to visit,” my dad said, looking at Tracy. “But for now, we should probably—”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m sure your mother is wondering where we are.”

And just like that, it was time to go. My dad took my bag, opening the trunk, while Tracy shaded her eyes with her hand, again looking at the big trees along the water.

“Anna Gordon, it was very nice to meet you,” he said as the hatch closed with a click. “We’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

I squatted down so I was at her level, then said, “You take care of everyone for me, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Promise?”

I nodded and she stepped forward, hugging my neck so tightly I almost lost my balance, her book bumping my back.

“Bye, Saylor,” Gordon said.

“Bye, Anna Gordon.”

Tracy waved and started over to the car. I smiled, lifting a hand myself as I followed. When I climbed inside, the car was cool and smelled of leather, the seat sinking beneath me.

“She called you Saylor,” my dad said as he started the engine and began pulling out of the drive. “Why is that?”

There was no traffic, but we stopped anyway, long enough for me to glimpse Mimi’s house one more time in the side mirror, where it already was starting to look far away.

“Because it’s my name,” I said, and I saw them exchange looks as we turned onto the road. The sign said Lake North was three miles. A passenger again, I settled in for the ride.





Seventeen


“Welcome to the Tides!”

The staff said this every time you walked through the main door, even if you’d only stepped out moments earlier. I’d been there less than twenty-four hours, and already I was sick of it.

Still, I nodded and smiled as I crossed the lobby, the copy of the Bly County News I’d just picked up under one arm. At the hotel restaurant, the Channel Marker, they offered a variety of newspapers at breakfast: New York Times, Washington Post, Wall Street Journal. For the local news—which was to say, obits—I had to walk across the street to the Larder, a glorified convenience store that sold gas and ice cream but also expensive wine and packages of cheese straws that cost six bucks each. I was a long way from BOGO sticky buns, not that I didn’t realize this already.

That first morning, as Dad and Tracy and I drove away from Mimi’s, I kept telling myself the same things, on repeat: it’s only three miles. Not that different. But even as I did, I was aware of the visible transition happening outside my window. After we passed Conroy Market, the squat concrete motels began disappearing, replaced by bigger neighborhoods. North Lake Estates, Fernwood Cove, the Sunset. And that was before we even pulled into the hotel itself.

“Welcome to the Tides,” the young, cute valet—he looked familiar, making me think I might have seen him at one of the Campus parties—said as he opened my door. Two others, also both in white golf shirts and black shorts, were already helping my dad and Tracy out and getting the luggage. “We’re glad to have you.”

“Um, thanks,” I mumbled, sliding out of my seat. He immediately shut the door behind me, then jogged back to help one of the other guys as they unloaded the hatch.

“Wow, this is nice,” my dad said, looking around. “How long has this place been here?”

“The Tides opened in two thousand sixteen,” another one of the valets, who had dark, shoulder-length hair, told him. “It’s the vision of the Delhomme family, owners of the Lake North Yacht Club. They saw a need for a place where members could stay that allowed the same level of service. That’s our goal.”