It wasn’t like it had been a perfectly easy transition. For one thing, we were dealing with a five-year gap, and for both of us, a lot had happened in those five years. So even as we were having fun catching up, there were moments that illustrated just how vast the holes in my knowledge were—like when Lucy was talking about someone named Susannah, and I hadn’t realized that this was the name of her stepmother. And she would occasionally say something, or make a reference to something that Elliot would immediately get, while I would be utterly in the dark. It was a strange combination of making a new friend while simultaneously getting to know an old one. But something had changed that night after she’d come to the slumber party. We had been able to let go of the past, the reasons why we’d stopped being friends, and I’d been reminded just how good a friend Lucy was. Not to mention how much fun we had when we were together. I’d forgotten that when you were around Lucy, there always seemed to be the possibility of something happening. She could somehow make going to the PocoMart to get snacks feel like an adventure. But we could also just gossip and talk for hours, the conversation rarely flagging.
We’d discovered that we both liked the grassy area with the picnic tables. It had a balance of sun and shade, and looked out at the water—but, most importantly, it provided an excellent view of the parking lot, which meant that we would be able to see Fred’s truck if he happened to drop by. He did this occasionally, and it always indicated the fish had refused to bite for him that day—meaning he would already be in a disgruntled mood and would probably not be too happy to see two of his employees lying out in the sun while on the clock.
We headed straight for what had quickly become our favorite spot. Elliot handling the next three customers could mean, in the late-afternoon lull we were in, that it might be half an hour before we had to return to the snack bar. Lucy kicked off the flip-flops we weren’t technically supposed to be wearing in the kitchen and sank down cross-legged onto the grass. I followed, lying back on my elbows and turning my face up to the sun.
“So,” Lucy said, turning to look at me. “How’s everything going?” Since we’d been working together all day, I knew this wasn’t just an idle inquiry. It was her coded way of asking about my dad, which she did every few days, always careful not to press it if I didn’t want to talk. I hadn’t realized how much I would appreciate someone else knowing about him. It was so nice to just be able to shrug off the question, and to know that she would listen if I wanted to talk—which I hadn’t, really, yet. But the opportunity was there. Mostly, it was just a relief not to have to pretend, as I was still doing with almost everyone else, that things were still just fine.
“About the same,” I said, squinting out at the water. This was pretty much the truth. My father seemed to be doing basically the same. He was working on his case and on his project, which remained a secret despite Warren’s many attempts to crack the mystery. My dad seemed to have calmed down a little bit in terms of the mail order—we were no longer deluged with gourmet packages from around the world—but he was still trying to read as much and see as many movies as possible. Possibly as a result of this, he had started taking a nap every afternoon. He was also thinner than ever, despite all the Belgian chocolates. We’d been to the diner for breakfast two more times but with each visit, he seemed to eat a little bit less of whatever he ordered. My mother had started trying to counterbalance this at dinner by simply serving him double the portion that the rest of us were eating, and then watching him like a hawk throughout the meal, so that she barely ate anything herself. At dinner two nights ago, my dad had only picked at his food, starting to wince whenever he took a bite, and he’d finally looked up at my mother and sighed.
“I’m sorry, Katie,” he said, as he moved his plate away. “I just don’t have any appetite.”
My mother had sent me for a vanilla milkshake from Jane’s for him, but by the time I’d come back with it, he’d already gone to bed. I’d ended up sitting on the back steps, drinking it myself as I looked out at the moonlight hitting the surface of the lake.
I kicked off my own flip-flops and stretched out my legs in front of me on the grass, hoping Lucy would understand that I wanted to change the subject. “So what’s up with Kevin?”
“Kyle,” Lucy corrected. “Kevin was last week.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me, and I shook my head, smiling. Since her breakup with Stephen, Lucy had been dating her way through all of Lake Phoenix’s eligible—and not-so-eligible—guys. She seemed to still be completely unaware that Elliot was pining openly for her and messing up most customers’ orders as a result. And the one time I’d tried to hint to her that there might be dating prospects with someone she already knew, someone she was friends with, she’d thought I was trying to set her up with Warren, and things had briefly gotten very uncomfortable.
“But you could have Kevin!” Lucy said, her face lighting up. “And then we could double. Perfection.”
“Luce,” I said, shaking my head, and Lucy sighed. Ever since she’d reentered the dating scene with a vengeance, she was always trying to get me to go out with her. But I had resisted every invitation, knowing full well the reason why.
“Is this because of Henry?” she asked, fixing me with her direct gaze.