“What were you doing with him?”
I shrug. “Passing time, I guess. Everyone knows everyone around here, so he would’ve been hard to avoid. I shouldn’t have kept taking him back, but my friends were dating his friends at the time, and it was easier to turn a blind eye than to make a thing out of it.”
Van makes a face. “Weren’t there other options?”
“You mean like other guys I could have dated? Sure. But I never planned to come back here, and dating someone who I’d actually get attached to didn’t seem like a good idea, so I dated Tucker.”
“That seems . . .”
“Shallow?” I supply.
“Calculated was more the word I was looking for.”
I nod my agreement. “It was calculated. If I’d dated a nice guy who treated me well, then I might have been less inclined to move to Chicago. Around here people tend to settle down early. Half of the girls I went to high school with had promise rings before they were even legally allowed to vote.”
“And you didn’t want to be tied down?”
“Not to this place.”
“And yet you’re back. So what changed?”
“My brother was in a car accident, and my dad needed help running the construction company.” I leave out the part about the DUI, my company going under, my ex-boyfriend moving back home, and my needing to find a new apartment. “What about you? Why are you staying at Bee’s place?”
“Well, it’s technically my place now.” I give him a look, so he continues with a sigh. “I’m in between jobs, and I needed a break from the city.”
I lean back in the chair. “It sounds like there’s a story attached to that.”
“There is, but it doesn’t paint me in the best light, and I don’t want to give you another reason to dislike me.”
“Well, now I really want to know what brings you to the wrong side of the lake.”
Van laughs, but there isn’t any humor in it. “It’s not the wrong side; it’s the best side.” He takes his hat off and runs his hands through the damp strands. “I used to be on the board of directors for a foundation in honor of my mother.”
“She passed when you were very young.” I remember, vaguely, a period of time in which Bee wore all black and talked about her daughter. The summer that followed I didn’t see much of her, but I remember her grandchildren being there and my mom telling me they needed family time.
“She did. It was supposed to be a day surgery, but she had a rare reaction to the anesthesia, and we lost her.”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard. Bee loved her very much.”
“She did, and I think she blamed my dad for her death. I think he blamed himself too.”
“That must have been so difficult for all of you. I can’t imagine losing my mother at such a young age. How old were you?”
“I was pretty young. Eight. Old enough to understand that she was gone and not coming back, but my dad just sort of shut down. All he did was work. Nannies basically raised us, and he bought us whatever we wanted. He lost himself when he lost her. And I started spending the summers with Grammy Bee. So did my brother and sister at first, but we had a nanny that Teagan was particularly close with, and she didn’t like being away from Dad for that long, so she stopped coming, and Bradley stayed home with her.”
“Which left only you to visit Bee.”
“Yup. Anyway, when I was eighteen I asked my dad if we could create a foundation in memory of my mom, and of course he said yes. I sat on the board right from the beginning. It was a way for us to connect. And it was good. But the day I arrived here was the same day I found out there was an audit and several million dollars have gone missing from the foundation.”
“Holy crap! That’s awful. What happened to it? Were they able to recover it?”
“They think I took it.”
“But why would you do that with the foundation you started?”
Van shrugs. “It doesn’t make sense to me, either, but all the bread crumbs lead back to me.”
“But how?” I might only know Van based on our infrequent, often annoyance-based interactions, but I do know that Bee spoke very highly of him. And generally Bee was right about people. I honestly couldn’t conceive of him doing something like that, or telling me about it if he had.
“I have no idea. That’s what we’re trying to find out. And we had this big donation going to this amazing literacy program, and now it’s all on hold. I wanted to replace as much of the missing funds as I could, but my lawyer wants me to wait it out so I don’t look guilty. I hate that this is dragging my mother’s name through the mud. And stalling our projects as a result. All because of someone’s greed.”
It would be horrible to be accused of something I didn’t do with no way to prove I didn’t do it. “Can’t you find out who did this? It can’t be that easy to steal millions, can it?”
“About as easy as it is to frame someone, apparently. I’ve tried to figure out who it was, but whoever did it has been good at not leaving a trail or even a digital fingerprint behind. The real cherry on top of the shit sundae is that I lost my job over this. And honestly, I can’t blame them for wanting to get rid of me. I’d do the same. As it is, my entire family is back in Chicago dealing with the fallout, and I’m here, waiting until we can come up with some evidence to prove it wasn’t me.”
“Wow. I can’t even imagine how you must feel. I’m so sorry I’ve been such a jerk to you.” It’s amazing how much perspective one conversation can provide. Bee didn’t talk much about her daughter, probably because the loss was so hard for her, but she always had good things to say about Van.
“Can you believe that all that happened right before I found you in my living room?” His smile is wry.
I slap a palm over my mouth. “No.”
“I’d literally just arrived at Bee’s to finally manage the cottage. I’d been planning to use some vacation time. I knew cleaning her place out was going to be a lot of work, so I took a week off, and boom, the second I walked in the door, I had that bomb dropped on me.”
I put a hand on his arm. “I was so horrible when you first arrived. I’ve been awful.”
“You’ve been the highlight of this exile, so far.” His smile turns soft. “Look, I don’t blame you. You don’t know me, and I know you and Bee were close. Besides, I didn’t do myself any favors with the late-night remodeling and the drunk and disorderly friends.” Van tips his head down, and the brim of his hat casts a shadow over his face. Another flash of déjà vu.
I shake my head, trying to erase the memory. It was probably the last beach party I went to before I left for college, and tonight is full of memories.
“Anyway, enough of my sob story. Talking about this makes me sound like an emo teenager. I have a place to live, and once we figure out exactly what happened, I’ll be able to clear my name, and I’ll be employable again. I gotta say, despite the less-than-ideal reasons for me being here, this is a nice break from the city grind. The pace isn’t as hectic. It’s more relaxed. It’s a good reminder that there’s more to life than fancy cars and expensive clothes.”
“There’s something about Chicago, or any city, I imagine, isn’t there? You’re surrounded by people whose entire existence is about having more; it’s hard not to get caught up in it.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “I spent my entire life wanting to escape the small-town stereotype. I don’t think it helps that one side of this lake is all about excess and the other is very much the opposite. It turned into one of those grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side scenarios. I wanted to have more, to be better, to get out of here and really live.”
Van props his chin on his fist. “And did you?”
“In some ways, yes. I went to college in Chicago. Got a job, had an apartment, and made good money, but the thing about living in a major city is that it’s expensive, and you have to work the hours to support the lifestyle.”
“Or live on lines of credit,” Van deadpans.
“The only thing worse than having nothing is having less than nothing because it’s all borrowed money. So yeah, I lived that city life, and I loved it while I was in it. And then I came back here to help out my family and get my feet back under me before the city ate all my savings.”
“Which you weren’t all that happy about. The being-back-here part, I mean.”
“Not really, no.”
“Because of Tucker the Fucker?”
I laugh. “I used to call him that all the time after I moved away. And yeah, that’s part of it. Although I don’t think I realized how big a part that played until recently. Sometimes one person can muddy all your memories with a layer of discontent, and Tucker was that for me.” Between the confrontation with Allie and opening up to Van, saying this all out loud seems to be making it clearer. I have been avoiding the bad memories, and facing my past. Ones I was responsible for creating with my complacency. But in doing that I lost out on years of friendship.
“And now, how do you feel about working for your dad’s construction company?”
I tug on a wet ringlet. “At first I wasn’t all that excited, but now I kind of love it. The woman they had doing the paperwork before she left to have a baby had the worst filing system ever, and as much as it’s been a pain, now that I’ve organized it, things are running smoothly. It’s rewarding to foster relationships with local companies that help keep the community going, you know? As much as I wanted to get out of this small town, I still cared about the people. We’re all here supporting each other, just trying to make a living.”
Van nods knowingly. “I get why Bee loves you. Loved you,” he corrects, that smile turning wistful for a second. “She talked about you all the time. Sometimes I was a little jealous of your relationship with her.”
“Jealous? Why?”
“Because you were so close to her. You had access to her all the time growing up, and I didn’t. It’s interesting how determined you were to escape the place I considered my haven. The weeks I spent up here in the summers were something I looked forward to every year. That never changed for me, not even as I got older.”
“Well, it was sort of a vacation for you, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it was also more than that. Here, people seem to have each other’s backs, at least for the most part. There’s a community here that doesn’t exist in the same way in the city. There’s no anonymity.”
“It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“I can see that. Everyone knows your business, but at the same time, the lack of posturing is a nice change. You are who you are. No one cares about what kind of car you drive or how much money you make. Except maybe Tucker the Fucker. Hell, it seems to be a badge of honor to drive a rusted-out, beat-up old pickup truck because it means you love it enough to keep fixing it.”
“To be fair, I think Bee refused to give up the pickup truck because it was your grandfather’s other lover. He spent as much time tinkering with that thing as he did sitting with Bee on the front porch. At least that’s how it seemed when I was a kid.”
“Whenever I visited, he spent most of his time in the garage,” Van agrees.
We both smile, and Van tips his head, eyes dipping down.
“Does everyone around here mumble and add an r to your name and call you Darlin’?”
I chuckle. “Honestly, I think Billy is the one who started calling me that, and everyone else followed suit. Like he couldn’t pronounce it properly, and then people started adding the r, and it stuck. Except Bee. She called me Lynnie, and sometimes people call me Dee because it’s shorter, and we’re lazy with our tongues.”
“What do you like to be called?”
I shrug. “They’re all fine. Apart from trailer trash, anyway.”
Embarrassment makes him duck his head. “Monica is an asshole.”
“She’s the kind of person who made me hate the north side of the lake. All that entitlement and believing they’re better because they were born with a silver spoon in their mouths. I wanted to prove to everyone who ever looked down on me that I could be just as successful. And I wanted to prove to this town that if you wanted to leave, you could.” Between people like her and Tucker, I had motivation to get out. Spread my wings, and knock a few people off their pedestals on my way out.
“And now?”
“I’m starting to see this place differently.” Having lived in the city, where anonymity is easy to come by, and then coming back here, to where everything and everyone is familiar, has changed things. And so has the guy sitting across from me. He’s a link to Bee, and in many ways he embodies the nostalgia of my teens. And now that I’m getting to know him, I’m finding there’s lots to like about him.
“Yeah, me too. At least when I’m around you.” His eyes roam over my face, and this time I don’t win the battle with my hand not to touch my hair.
I snicker. “You’re a fan of surly neighbors?”
“Maybe it reminds me of Chicago. Everyone’s surly there.”
“That’s a fact.”
“Or maybe it’s because you don’t put up with shit.”
“Oh, I put up with lots of shit.”
“Not from me.”
“You happen to catch me on particularly surly days, is all.”
“I like your surly.” His tongue peeks out and drags across his bottom lip. “Can I tell you something?” He tips his head down, the brim of his hat casting shadows over his face again.
“Sure.” We’ve been open with each other tonight, and all that hostility I felt has dissipated, especially in the wake of his revelations.
He taps on the table, leaving fingerprints in the dust. “Remember the summer you worked at the french fry truck?”
“Yeah, it was my last summer in Pearl Lake.”
“Mine too. I used to go to the food truck all the time and get fries and hot dogs, even though I’m not a fan of either.”
“Who doesn’t like fries? And why would you get them if you don’t like them? For Bee?”
Van laughs. “No. I mean, sure, she liked them well enough, but I went just so I could talk to you. I kinda had a thing for you.”
“A thing?”
“A crush, Dillion.” His smile is wry.
“Oh. I had no idea.” I lean back in my chair, which creaks ominously. “Why didn’t you come over and say hi, when I lived right next door to Bee?”
He tips his head to the side. “Because I knew you had a boyfriend, and I was only there for the summer. I had a feeling if I acted on that crush, it would be hard to walk away come the end of August. I used to go to those beach parties hoping I’d run into you there.”
“I hated those parties back then. It was always a bunch of summer kids trying to hook up with the locals.” I rub my bottom lip, remembering the one time I went to a beach party while Tucker and I were on one of our breaks and ended up kissing a north side boy. “Did you ever make out with any of the local girls?”
“Only one. Did you ever make out with any of the guys from the other side of the lake?” he asks.
“Only one. And only because I got roped into a game of truth or dare that played out more like a game of spin the bottle. It ended almost as soon as it started, though, because some jerk made a trailer trash comment—”
“—and a fight broke out.”
“How do you know that?” I can feel my face heating up. I’d hate to think that Van, who had been crushing on me back then, had witnessed that embarrassing moment.
“Because it was me.”
“What was you?” My pulse speeds up at the memory. The way I hadn’t been able to see that summer boy’s face because the fire was burning low and he’d been wearing a ball cap.
“I was the one who kissed you. I didn’t even know it was you,” Van says quietly.
“Because I was wearing a sweatshirt—”
“—and the hood was up,” he finishes for me.
I’d been h
iding behind it, watching Tucker flirt with some girl from the other side of the lake. The bottle landed on me, and someone dared Van to kiss me. So he did.
I shake my head. “I thought about that kiss for the rest of the summer.”
“Me too.” He rubs his bottom lip, leaving behind a smudge of dirt. His left eyebrow arches. “Did you think good things?”
I breathe out a laugh. “Yeah. I thought good things. I wondered for the rest of the summer if it was you I’d run into, but you were too embarrassed that you’d gotten called out for macking on trailer trash.”
“Stop saying that. It’s pissing me off. If I’d known it was you, I would have been at your door every damn day for the rest of the summer.”
“I still can’t believe it was you,” I say softly.
“Seems like fate is trying to tell us something, don’t you think?” He slides his chair across the rough wood floor, closer to me.
“Maybe Bee is trying to send us messages from heaven.”
“Maybe.” He reaches out and drags my chair away from the makeshift table so we’re knee to knee, his legs parting to bracket mine.
He props his forearms on his thighs; his knuckles barely graze my knee and send a shiver running down my spine. “Can I tell you something else?”
“Sure.” It’s more breath than word.
“You make me nervous.” His voice is soft and low.
It’s also not what I expected to hear. I tip my head, unsure where he’s going with this.
He links our pinkies. “Do you want to know why?”
“Sure.”
His fingertips glide along my palm, and a wave of goose bumps flashes over my skin. “Because I feel like you see me. Like it doesn’t matter what I say or do. I’m transparent, and you’re already under my skin.”
“And why does that make you nervous?”
He runs his thumb over my knuckles and lifts my hand. “Because I want you to like what you see, the same way I like what I see in you.” He drops his head until I can feel his breath break across the back of my hand. “Do you, Dillion?” The end of his nose brushes my knuckle. “Like what you see, that is.”
Love Next Door Page 14
