*
The road to the camp was bumpy, and the overgrowth of trees made it seem like they were driving through a tunnel. The ground began to grow soft under her wheels; she could feel the pull and give. Suddenly, the road opened up and a large lawn appeared in front of them. The grass needed mowing, and the redbrick barbecue grills were starting to crumble. The picnic tables needed a good coat of paint to save them from rot, and the umbrellas were old and thin, meekly shielding the tables from the sun.
To the left of the lawn was a narrow yellow two-story house that leaned slightly to the side, as if giving room to something large passing by. To the right was Lost Lake itself, a dense round plop of gray-green water surrounded by trees with Spanish moss hanging from their limbs, like the long hair of ladies dipping their heads to sip from the lake.
“Wow,” Devin said, her head darting around. “I didn’t think it would look like this!”
“I didn’t, either,” Kate said as she slowly navigated the car around the driveway circling the lawn. They passed thirteen ramshackle cabins at the far end, painted in fading Halloween-storybook colors of black, brown, and orange, with mossy stone walkways in between. There were no signs that the cabins were occupied—no shoes left on the stoops, no folding lawn chairs propped against the walls.
Kate circled all the way to the spindly two-story house, then parked. When they got out and shut the doors, the sound echoed over the lake. There was the scent of something green in the air, like wet grass or peeled cucumbers.
She didn’t know why she felt so disappointed. Of course the place would have changed. It was inevitable.
They walked inside, and a bell over the door rang. The place smelled of wet wood and cool air from the AC, like an old sea museum. There was no one at the old curved check-in desk in the small foyer, so they looked in the sitting room first, which was filled with dusty chintz furniture and a wall of built-in shelves, sagging with the weight of hundreds of books. Next they went to the informal dining room, where there were several mismatched café tables and chairs. The walls with faded purple wallpaper and the dark narrow floorboards looked scrubbed within an inch of their lives, as if, every day, someone diligently scrubbed back the damp.
“Hello?” Kate called.
No answer.
“Eby?”
Again, no answer.
“Are we the only ones staying here?” Devin asked as they walked back to the check-in desk.
“I don’t think we’re staying, sweetheart. I don’t think it’s open.”
But then, as if in response, the scent of something savory curled over and tapped her on the shoulder. She automatically turned to look back into the dining room. It was still dark and empty, but now there was a single Blue Willow platter on the buffet table on the far side of the room. She could have sworn it hadn’t been there before. She walked over to it. On it were several small ham-and-cheese puff pastries and two large slices of plum cake. Devin joined her, standing over the platter and inhaling deeply.
“Did you see who left this?” Kate asked her daughter.
Devin shook her head.
At that moment, the bell above the front door rang again and a tall slim woman in her seventies appeared in the foyer. She stopped when she saw Kate and Devin in the dining room, startled out of the reverie of her thoughts, which were obviously millions of miles away. Her silver hair was long, reaching almost to her waist, and she had it pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore jeans and a white T-shirt and jewelry made of large green stones.
She hadn’t changed. Everything else here might have, but she hadn’t.
“Eby,” Kate said with a smile and a sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath, waiting for this to happen.
“Yes?”
“I’m Kate Pheris.” Eby didn’t respond. Kate shook her head and clarified: “I used to be Kate Snoderly. I’m your great-niece.”
“Kate!” Eby said with sudden recognition. She laughed as she strode into the dining room and drew Kate into her arms. Kate hugged her back, feeling the sharp bones in her great-aunt’s lithe frame. She smelled the same, like a vacation, like pretzels and taffy. “I can’t believe it. You came back!”
When Eby pulled back, Kate said, “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Devin.”
“Hello, Devin. What a lovely outfit,” she said sincerely. She turned to Kate. “I’m overwhelmed. What are you doing here?”
“We’re in the middle of moving, and this morning we found this postcard,” Kate said, taking the folded card out of her pocket, “the one you sent after Mom and Dad and I left all those years ago. I didn’t know about it. Mom kept it from me. Devin and I decided to take a road trip to see you again. To see if Lost Lake was still here.”
Eby took the card and stared at it, a small change coming over her, as if she’d taken a step back from them without even moving. “Your mother and I left on a bad note. I regret that. How is Quinn?” she asked cautiously, handing the card back to Kate.
Kate blinked in surprise. But of course Eby wouldn’t have known. “Mom passed away six years ago.”
Eby’s hand went to her chest and patted it softly, as if trying to calm something inside. “I’m so sorry,” she finally said. “I … oh. I don’t know what to say. Your father?”
“He’s gone, too. Almost ten years before Mom.”
“My dad died, too,” Devin said. “Last year.”
Eby focused on Devin, her brown eyes sympathetic. She reached over and touched Devin’s shoulder. “That must have been very hard for you.” Eby’s gaze shifted to Kate with growing concern, as if Kate was newly fragile, as if the glue hadn’t set and she might fall apart at any moment.
“We’re okay,” Kate said. “It’s been a hard year, but we’re okay.” She was feeling awkward now, like they were unburdening their grief on a stranger. “I didn’t mean to bring you bad news. We won’t stay long. I just wanted to see you again.”
“Won’t stay?” Eby said. “Of course you’ll stay! Let’s tell Lisette you’re here. She’ll be so excited to have more people to cook for. It looks like she already set out some things for you, left over from lunch.” She nodded to the Blue Willow platter.
Kate followed Eby. She didn’t have to tell Devin to join them. Devin was spellbound. Eby led them through a swinging door into a surprisingly modern kitchen. It was like walking into another house entirely. It was windowless but bright, with stainless steel that sparkled.
Completely out of place was an old chair by the refrigerator. It was tilted back against the wall, as if someone were sitting there. Devin stared at the chair curiously.
A small woman, probably in her sixties, turned from the stove. Her hair was as dark and shiny as a wet otter’s. There was a dramatic gray streak in it, toward the back, and it peeked out as she moved. “More guests, Lisette! Look who it is! It’s my niece Kate! I told you she’d be back one day. And she brought her daughter, Devin.”
Lisette gave Eby a look Kate couldn’t decipher before she smiled and, without a word, walked over and kissed their cheeks.
Eby said, “Kate, I don’t know if you remember, but this is Lisette Durand. She’s been my best friend for fifty years and the inimitable cook at Lost Lake for almost that long.”
Kate didn’t remember Lisette, but maybe she would later, like a figure forming in the fog. Bits and pieces of that summer were coming back to her. For years, she’d only had vague impressions, but very real emotions, about Lost Lake. She remembered feeling happy here. She could remember that very clearly. “Thank you for the food you set out for us,” Kate said.
Lisette bowed her head modestly.
“Lisette’s father owned a famous restaurant in Paris. La Maison Durand. Hemingway ate there once,” Eby said. “She learned to cook from him. Her father, not Hemingway. I’ll be right back with the linens for your beds.”
As Eby disappeared down the hallway, Lisette lifted a small notepad tied around her neck and began to write: Do not believe a word she says. Hemingway never ate at my father’s restaurant. And my father taught me nothing. The turd. I learned everything I know from a handsome young chef named Robert. He was in love with me.
Eby walked back into the kitchen with some folded plaid sheets under her arm. “Lisette can’t speak,” Eby explained when she saw Kate’s expression. “She was born without a voice box.”
“What’s a voice box?” Devin asked excitedly, as if it might be something real, something tangible, a secret wooden box somewhere with Lisette’s voice hidden inside.
“I’ll explain later,” Kate said.
“Come on, girls. Let’s get you settled.”
As they walked out, Lisette tore the note she’d written out of the pad and turned on a burner on the stove. She burned the note, and it disappeared in a whoosh of sparks and ash, like a magician’s trick.
Devin walked out backward, to stare as long as she could.
“Grab your plate, and I’ll show you to your cabin,” Eby said as she took a key from behind the check-in desk.
They walked out together, and Kate led them to the Subaru. “Where is everyone?” she asked, opening the hatch with one hand, the plate in the other.
Eby turned and looked at the lawn. There was a wistfulness to her gaze, but also a small sense of frustration. “Two guests arrived, just before you. They’re here for old time’s sake. I’ve recently decided to sell. This is the last summer of Lost Lake.”
Kate realized that they had landed in another big aftermath in Eby’s life, just like last time, when they’d visited right after George had died. It was like they were that strange debris that always washed up after a storm. “I’m sorry. We won’t stay long.”
Eby patted her cheek. The large green stone ring on her finger was cool and calming against Kate’s skin, like a gypsy’s touch. “You can stay as long as you’d like.” She turned to the car. “You certainly brought a lot of luggage.”
Kate looked into the Outback and for the first time realized how packed it was. “Devin, what is all this?”
“My luggage,” Devin said. “You said I could wear whatever I want.”
“Did you bring everything?” In addition to their luggage, there were at least four duffle bags.
Devin shrugged. “All that could fit.”
“We didn’t even know if we were staying.”
“I knew.”
“I see the resemblance now,” Eby said, smiling as she reached in for a piece of luggage.