The Rest of the Story(96)

“Yes.” I nodded. “Thank you, Nana.”

“Of course.” She pointed at the Bly County News, which was next to my plate. “Now, tell me what you love so much about that paper. I glanced at your copy the other day and it seems to be nothing but ads and classified listings for boats.”

“It’s the obits, really,” I said. “In the paper at home, there are at least eight to ten obituaries every day. Here, because it’s smaller, usually they only run one or two. But they do a lot more In Memoriams, I’ve noticed.”

“In Memoriams?”

I opened the paper. “They run on what would have been the person’s birthday, or the anniversary of the day they died. They talk about how much they’re missed and loved and all that. Like a letter to the beyond, but in the paper.”

“Interesting,” Nana said. “It’s similar to lawsuit settlements, when you’re often required to post terms in the classifieds. If it’s in the public record, everyone sees it.”

“Even the dead,” I said.

“Even them.”

As we sat there together, eating and reading in companionable silence, I thought of Mimi’s kitchen, far across that water just outside the window, and my mornings there. It was possible I’d never get to wake up again to the smell of toast, arguments over butter, and a day of housekeeping ahead of me. But maybe I would. Even with all that had been taken from me, I still had time.





Twenty-One


The one good thing about being in the same place all the time is that you’re easy to find. Or, you know, call.

“How bad is it?” Bailey asked, skipping a hello. She’d been texting me nonstop since the night of Taylor’s party, but I hadn’t had the heart or energy to reply, so she’d been forced to reach out to me with an actual call. Which she hated. I was kind of touched, to be honest.

“Well, I’m grounded,” I said. “I can’t go anywhere.”

“At least it’s a nice place,” she replied. “What else?”

“My dad is pissed. He’s not talking to me. Still.”

“Did you cry?”

“Yes. Didn’t help.”

“Damn.” She sighed. “How long are you punished for?”

“He didn’t say,” I told her. Another loud exhale. “Is that bad?”

“Well, it’s not good,” she said. “Personally I prefer a date range for all my punishments at the time they are given. Otherwise extensions get tacked on again and again for even the smallest thing, and the next thing you know, you have no life whatsoever.”

That was encouraging. I said, “My grandmother is trying to help, though. She wants to have you all over for dinner.”

“Who’s all of us?” she asked, sounding suspicious.

“Well,” I said, “Mimi and Oxford, I guess, and you and Trinity. Celeste and Gordon and Jack.”

“Is she thinking, like, a restaurant or something?”

“The Club, actually. She’s looking at next Friday.”

“The Club?” Now, I had her full attention. “Are you serious?”

“Yep,” I said. “Do you think you all will come?”

“I’ll be there,” she said automatically. “Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to eat at the Club. I hear they have specific forks just for oysters. Have you seen those yet?”

“I don’t like oysters.”

“Who cares? They’re specific little forks just for ONE FOOD. I mean, what is that?” She laughed. “Oh, God, and what will I wear? And will we come by boat, or drive? Because if we come by boat, then I might see Colin, and—”

Hearing this name, I realized I’d been so caught up with my experience at Taylor’s party I hadn’t even thought of hers. Who was selfish now? “What’s happening with Colin? Did you see him at the party?”

“Briefly,” she replied, her voice coy. “I mean, it was kind of hard for us to talk with my drunk cousin about to be busted by her dad, but—”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“It’s okay. I think me being busy was actually a good move. He, like, won’t stop texting me.”

“You’re welcome.”

She snorted. “I’m still mad at you for drinking. It’s one thing for me to be messed up, but I didn’t like seeing you that way. I need you compos mentis.”

“You need me what, now?”

“Compos mentis,” she repeated. “It’s Latin. Means of sound mind.”

“You took Latin?”

“Yeah, one semester,” she said.

“Wow,” I said, surprised.

“What? It’s not easy for lake kids to get into a good college. We need all the credits we can get.” So she was going to school, even if she never talked about it. I hated I’d just assumed otherwise. “Anyway, the point is you’re not a party girl, Saylor. It doesn’t suit you.”

“No kidding.” Just the thought of alcohol brought back a wave of shame that was hot and awful. “I’ve learned my lesson, don’t worry. From now on I’ll be the DD, every time.”

“But first you have to, like, drive,” she pointed out.