The Rest of the Story(83)

Hey I’m sorry

No, that wasn’t right.

I didn’t realize, I should have

Even worse.

The cursor just sat there, blinking. I looked out at the water outside my window. There was still time to come up with the right words, and probably better to say them face-to-face anyway. So I just sent her a heart back, and left it at that.

“So you’ll be a senior this year,” Mrs. Delhomme said to me as the waiter refilled her wineglass. A woman about Nana’s age, she was deeply tan, with short white hair she wore so spiky it resembled plumage. “Do you have college plans?”

“We’ve taken a couple of tours while traveling,” my dad said from my other side. “But she hasn’t narrowed down a real list, have you, Emma?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I want to keep my options open.”

At this, my dad smiled. I’d never been great with other kids, but I could hang at any adult dinner party. The gift and curse of the only child.

“Options are good,” Mrs. Delhomme said. “It’s how we ended up with the Tides. The land went up for sale when Wilton was in college, and his dad snapped it up for what he called ‘a rainy day.’ Which is so funny, because I swear it never rains here! One reason why it’s such a great place to get away.”

I’d realized, over three courses and now dessert, that Mrs. Delhomme, like my grandmother, had a story for everything.

“Well, it’s absolutely stunning,” Nana said now from her seat, next to Tracy. “We’re having just the best time. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Nonsense,” said Mr. Delhomme, who was on my dad’s other side. His wife was the talker of the two of them, while he spent most of the meal on the phone. “We’re thrilled you finally came down to see us.”

“And you’re here for two weeks?” Mrs. Delhomme asked me.

I nodded, scooping up the last of my vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. “I was over in North Lake before this, with my mom’s family.”

“Really?” She smiled. “I didn’t know she was from this area. Where do they live?”

“Her grandmother owns a motel called Calvander’s,” my dad replied before I could answer. “Just over the line.”

“Such a lovely community, North Lake,” she told him. “There’s just so much history there, those families that have been coming for generations.” She took a sip of her wine, leaving a lipstick mark on the glass. “It’s what we really aspired to when we developed Lake North. That sense of tradition.”

“That said, it’s not someplace I’d want to spend my vacation,” Mr. Delhomme added. “I’m a fan of modern comforts. The places there are a bit . . . antiquated.”

I was pretty sure this was a burn. I couldn’t help but say, “I think for some people it’s just what they want.”

My dad shot me a look. I pretended I didn’t see.

“Coffee?” asked a voice right behind me. I turned to see a girl with two long braids I sort of recognized from a Campus party, holding a pot.

“No, thanks,” I said, and she nodded, moving on.

“Are you going to the Pavilion this evening?” Mrs. Delhomme asked me. “I hear there is a great band playing. Swing music, I believe. Sadly, my dancing days are behind me since my hip operation, but it might be fun for you.”

Hearing this, I glanced at my dad, but now he was leaning into a conversation with Nana, nodding.

“I actually heard there might be a movie?” I said, a bit louder than necessary. “A friend mentioned it.”

“Well, let’s find out.” She turned to the girl with the coffeepot. “Mila? Do you know anything about a movie here tonight?”

Mila smiled politely. “Absolutely. They do it on the beach. There’s popcorn and everything. It’s great.”

“Oh, good,” Mrs. Delhomme said. “You’ll have a wonderful time.”

“Did you say eight?” I asked Mila, making a show of checking my phone. “Because I don’t want to be late.”

“Go, go,” Mrs. Delhomme, who probably needed coffee but was still downing her wine, said to me. “Grace, I’m giving your granddaughter permission to be excused. She’s put up with our chatter all evening and wants to be with some people her own age.”

“Oh, not at all,” I told her. “I’m fine to stay.”

“No, you go,” Tracy said to me. When my dad looked at her, she said to him, “I mean, of course it’s up to you, I just feel like she’s been here all night with us . . .”

“Where is this movie, again?” he asked me.

“On the beach,” I said, pointing out the back doors. “It will be over at ten.”

“I’d go,” Tracy said, stifling a yawn, “but this jet lag is killing me. I’ll be lucky to make it home without falling asleep on the way.”

Bailey was good. I had to give her that.

My dad, however, was still thinking. Or pretending to, if only to torture me. Finally he said, “Okay, fine. But I want you home by midnight. And answer your phone if I call.”

“Will do,” I said, getting to my feet before he could give me any other addendums. “My reception isn’t great on the beach, though, just so you know.”