by Cate Cameron
“Oh. I didn’t realize it was that simple. Yeah, if Josh is a psycho, you’re right! There’s nothing to talk about. Phew, it’s lucky you got rid of him so easily!”
Ashley made a face at her friend. “Not, like, a psycho psycho,” she admitted reluctantly. “But the brooding and grudge-holding are real.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too healthy, either. I mean, life is too short to waste time with someone who gets upset over stupid stuff and can’t get over it.”
“Yeah!” Ashley looked at the crumpled script on the floor. “Except maybe it wasn’t stupid stuff, exactly, that he got upset over. Maybe it was actually some stuff he should have been a bit upset about. Maybe.”
“But he’s not letting it go. He’s not trying to move on, and he came here this morning to yell at you about it all. So screw him! It’s over.”
Ashley wished Charlotte wasn’t quite so good at this. “He is trying to move on, I guess. It’s not his fault Jasmine showed up last night. And he came over this morning to explain it all, not to yell at me.” She looked down toward the lake. “He brought muffins. From the bakery.”
“Muffins? I was unaware of muffins. We could have had them for breakfast.”
“No. I threw them in the lake.”
Charlotte was quiet for a few moments. Then she said, “That’s some excellent diva behavior you’re working on. The script, the muffins . . . You just need to throw a cell phone at someone and you’ll be a true star.”
“I was upset.”
“About what? What did he say that upset you?”
Good question. Ashley played back the conversation. She hadn’t really enjoyed hearing about Josh and Jasmine’s history, but that wasn’t what had made her angry. What had it been, really? “Do you think I treat him like a toy? Like he’s one more amenity provided by the Vermont hospitality commission?”
“Is that what he said you did?”
“Not me. Not that specific. Just summer people in general. Summer women, I guess.”
“Huh.”
Ashley waited for more, but apparently Charlotte wasn’t planning to give it to her. “What? What does that ‘huh’ mean?”
“It means . . . well . . . I’ve only heard your side of the story. You told me the stupid stuff you did. Would you have done all of that to a guy back home? Taken the dare in the first place, and then refused to take ‘no’ for an answer? Even with the riding—it was mostly me, I admit, but I wouldn’t have been that pushy about riding lessons with someone back home. Up here, it’s like, yeah, we’re on vacation, so we’re being goofy. But they’re not on vacation.” She made an amused face in the direction of the kitchen. “Well, Kevin seems to be. But Josh isn’t.” She frowned thoughtfully in Ashley’s direction. “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there? Maybe? I mean, me being pushy about riding, that was partly because I really, really want this part, but we could have flown back home and gotten riding lessons there, if we’d had to. I think part of it is . . . I think I really couldn’t believe that some backwoods nobody would say no to a big star like me.”
Ashley stared at her, and Charlotte stared back. “It doesn’t sound good, does it?” Charlotte asked quietly. “Makes me sound like a snob, like somebody who actually believes her own publicist. And I wasn’t thinking it consciously. But I think maybe there was an element of that involved.”
“And you’re saying you think maybe that’s part of it with me, too?”
“I don’t know, Ash. I don’t think you’re a snob. I don’t think you’re full of yourself. But, honestly, when we’re working—and when are we not working, really, because all the parties and appearances and all the rest of that crap, that counts as work and we both know it—when we’re working we’re the centers of our little universes, aren’t we? It actually . . . Wow, I’d never thought about it before, but the ‘star’ thing actually makes more sense than I thought. We’re not just bright lights twinkling in the darkness of the movie theaters, we’re also huge, dense bodies with smaller objects rotating around them! We’re the centers of our solar systems.”
“I’m neither huge nor dense,” Ashley said. She really wanted to deflect Charlotte from the conversational path they seemed to be on.
But Charlotte barely seemed to hear her. “So it’d be pretty impressive if we could just shut that off entirely, wouldn’t it? There’s lots of self-centered people in the regular world, and then we get it all reinforced for us by being around people who actually act as if we’re the sun and they’re just planets.” She took a moment to appreciate her new understanding of the figure of speech, then shrugged. “I don’t know about the Vermont hospitality commission bit. But if the only side of the story I’ve heard is yours, and I still think he’s got a few reasons to feel a bit objectified? Then maybe he’s got a point.”
“By me.” Ashley worked hard to keep her voice from being shrill. “You’re saying that I’ve been objectifying him.”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said carefully. “What do you think?”
“It was two episodes!” Ashley yelled at her friend. How the hell had Charlotte gotten so good at this after playing a therapist for two damned episodes?
She needed to think, but her brain was racing too fast for anything to make sense. She wanted . . . Oh. Yes. She wanted to lie back in the cold forest stream with her feet braced against the warm strength of Josh’s stomach, and she wanted to look up in the sky and float. That was what she wanted, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to get it. “I’m going for a swim,” she told her friend. The lake wasn’t going to be as good as floating in the stream would have been, but it was the best she could manage.
* * *
“OF course you’re coming,” Kevin said. He sounded genuinely confused, and not exactly pleased, by Ashley’s attempt to beg off his plans for the weekend. “It’s The Splash.”
“The event of the season,” Charlotte said cheerfully. “Got to see and be seen. And you said your potter friend had a stall at the craft fair, right? You want to see that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I’ll drive in for that,” Ashley said. “But I probably won’t stay that long, so we should take separate cars.”
“Ash . . .” Charlotte started. Then she turned to Kevin. “You want to go get the car, babe?”
The car was about twenty feet from the doorway; everyone knew Charlotte was just trying to get Kevin out of the conversation. He smiled, happy to escape, but Ashley wished he’d stay and be a buffer.
“You won’t be a third wheel,” Charlotte said as Kevin headed out the front door. “It’s not like the two of us are gazing into each other’s eyes and doing baby talk; we’re just hanging out. If we’re having sex, you’re not really welcome, but all the rest of the time, you’re good. Seriously.” She paused for Ashley to absorb that truth, then added, “And you’d damn well better not be hiding from Josh Sullivan. That’s either over with, in which case it doesn’t matter, or it’s not quite over with, in which case you should get out there and figure it out. Right?”
Ashley sighed. “I just might not be great company.”
“You’ll be fine. It’s already almost dinnertime, so you’ll have a hot dog and a beer and you’ll be ready for fun. Now get some shoes on.”
Ashley let herself be pushed around and tried not to feel like an unwelcome imposition when Charlotte shoed Kevin into the back of the convertible and ensconced Ashley in the passenger seat.
As they drove, Kevin leaned forward and gave them a rundown of what they were heading for. “The Splash is our big summer festival. It’s not really in honor of anything. . . . Like, it’s not an ice cream fest or a lobster fest or whatever. It’s just pro-summer. The golf courses open their doors to nonmembers for the weekend, and there’s a fishing derby and a cool triathlon—kayak, mountain bike, and speed-hiking instead of the usual events—and there’s the craft festival, but you al
ready know about that, and . . . I don’t know, just lots of random stuff. Some of it’s cool, some of it’s weird. But at night there’s a huge barbecue down in the park by the lake, and a dance afterward on the tennis courts. That’s the part everyone goes to, so that’s why we’re going.”
Everyone. Ashley resisted the temptation to inquire whether “everyone” included Josh. She wasn’t going to get over her obsession by talking about him all the time. “What’s a fishing derby?” she asked instead.
“It’s just a fishing contest. Certain timelines, and you see who can catch the biggest fish. Usually there’s some subcategories—different kinds of fish and different classes of fishermen or whatever. Some people take it really seriously.”
“I want to be in a fishing derby.” Ashley was surprised by the words as they came out of her mouth, but she took a moment to consult herself and realized that they were true. She looked over to see both Kevin and Charlotte giving her weird looks. At least Charlotte was driving, so she couldn’t stare quite as overtly as Kevin. “Not this fishing derby,” Ashley said quickly. “I’ve never fished in my life. But someday. A bucket-list thing, I guess. I’d like to enter a fishing derby.”
“What’s the appeal?” Charlotte asked after a moment. She sounded genuinely curious.
“Just . . . it’s just something to try. Something that means something to a whole group of people, and I’ve never even heard of it, and it just seems like I should give it a try. If they all like it, and they aren’t crazy . . .”
“Well, I wouldn’t go all the way to saying they aren’t crazy,” Kevin said. “You should talk to Mr. Ryerson in the place next door to you. He says he’s a recovered fish-a-holic, but I think his wife always watches him for a relapse. Some of these guys are pretty intense about their fishing.”
“I won’t be that intense,” Ashley decided. “But I’ll take it seriously. It won’t be a joke. I’ll spend some time figuring out . . . I don’t know, I guess figuring out how to fish, for starters, but then I’ll learn the right bait or techniques or whatever, and I’ll wake up really early on derby day to get a good start, if that’s allowed, and I’ll really concentrate on whatever it is people concentrate on when they’re fishing.”
“Will you have an outfit?” Charlotte asked.
“Only if there’s a reason for it. Like, a practical advantage. Not just to look cute.”
“Okay,” Charlotte said with a decisive nod, as if Ashley had been asking permission and Charlotte had decided to grant it. “That’s weird but cool. Do you have a timeline?”
“I need to do some investigation first. I’ll get back to you.”
Ashley felt good as they drove the rest of the way into town. She was being proactive. She was taking charge of her life. She was using her control to make some pretty strange decisions, but that was her right. And she thought she might really like this fishing thing.
* * *
WATCHING fishermen weigh their catches for the derby was even more boring than fishing itself. Josh didn’t slow down as he walked past the docks.
It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go, really; The Splash was mostly just about wandering around and visiting. It was one of the few breaks in the busy summer season, a rare chance to catch up with people who were working just as hard as he was and who wouldn’t get another chance to socialize until the last leaves fell and the tourists finally went home.
But he was supposed to be meeting his cousins at the triathlon finish line, so he worked his way slowly in that direction, arriving just as the first kayakers were rounding the point and heading into shore.
“Is that Gil?” Josh asked Theo. He looked up to the five-year-old on Theo’s shoulders. “Is that your daddy in the kayak? Can you see?”
The little guy clapped his hands and bounced a little, but Theo just squinted and shrugged. “Might be him.”
Gil was Theo’s brother, the oldest cousin in that generation, and he’d been training hard for this event. He was a good guy and deserved to win, and Josh should have been spending all his energy on cheering, but he found himself distracted.
Ashley Carlsen was there, only a few yards away, standing with Kevin and Charlotte. She was talking to Sarah, Gil’s wife, and the sun made Ashley’s hair glow as it was tossed by the wind off the lake. When the kayakers got closer and everyone began to cheer, her voice was raised with the rest of them, and she clapped and jumped with excitement as the racers neared. When Gil crossed the finish line in first place she threw her arms up in triumph and was enveloped in the group hug as if she were . . . as if she were part of the group.
Josh made himself stop staring and let the crowd jostle him forward. Theo saw him and suddenly Josh was holding Andrew, the five-year-old, as Theo went to help his exhausted brother haul the kayak out of the lake.
“Daddy went fast,” Andrew said, his eyes wide with excitement.
“Faster than anyone else,” Josh agreed.
It was a small-town event, the competitors were all total amateurs, some of whom didn’t even train, and the grand prize was a free dinner at the barbecue that night. But the smile on Gil’s face was as wide and as real as if he’d just won the Olympics. It wasn’t a big deal, except for all the ways that it was. And when Josh looked over at Ashley, when he saw her broad smile and genuine excitement, he felt like she somehow understood every one of those ways.
Josh let himself stand close behind her as they waited for the presentations. “I’m retiring,” Gil told them all. “We need another Linden to carry the torch.” He looked at the crowd. “Theo? Ben? Hell, Josh, you might not have the right last name, but I won’t hold it against you. You in for next year?”
“You’re only calling out the men?” Emma demanded. She was Gil’s much younger sister, and always up for a challenge. “Maybe Sarah and I will do it!”
“Speak for yourself,” Sarah said quickly. “Being married to the champ gives me bragging rights; I looked after the kid when he went to train, so I’ve already done my time!”
It was just another Splash, just another family gathering. Nothing special. Gil’s victory would be added to the long list of family stories, just one more event that no one really cared about except for the people involved. And, maybe, people like Ashley.
Josh stayed quiet as the family rolled over to the barbecue pits and continued their celebration. They were used to him not saying much, so it wasn’t a problem. He ate, and he paid as much attention as he could to the talent show that was happening in the background, and when Theo left to go set up for the dance, he tagged along. He needed to stay busy and keep his mind off women. Or one woman in particular.
As the sun set, the crowd began to gather. As always they were set up inside the community tennis courts, with long strips of various fabrics hung down to cover the chain link perimeter and thousands of fairy lights strung on top of it all to illuminate the scene. Once the court was full enough so the bright green pavement and sharp white lines couldn’t be seen, it was actually a pretty elegant setting. Well, maybe not elegant by some standards. Josh tried to see it through his own eyes and ignore his imaginings about what visiting movie stars might think.
Then he looked over and saw Ashley standing just inside the gate, looking around her as if she’d stumbled into a fairyland. And damn it, that was just too much.
He was walking toward her before he realized what he was doing, but even once he knew, he didn’t try to stop. He wasn’t sure what his goal was; he didn’t have anything to say, but he guessed he wanted to see her close-up. He wanted to enjoy her enjoyment.
But when he arrived, he realized it wasn’t socially acceptable to just stand and stare at someone. She didn’t seem inclined to complain, though, since she was doing her own awkward staring. Finally she broke her gaze away from his and blurted, “The fabric!” as if she were compelled to name the first thing she saw.
He waited for the w
ords to turn into something he could respond to, then finally echoed them back to her. “The fabric?”
She stared at him a moment longer, and then her grin was quick and sheepish. “Sorry. That was a bit out of the blue. I was . . . I don’t know. But, yeah, the fabric covering the fence.” She took a deep breath, clearly organizing her thoughts. “Kevin said people donated it and a lot of it is significant. There’s supposed to be one strip that’s made from a wedding dress and all the bridesmaid dresses from a wedding. Do you know where that one is?”
“No idea,” he admitted. But he was so grateful for the neutral topic of conversation that he resolved to share any information he had. “I hadn’t heard of that one. I know there’s one that’s got all the jerseys from the school basketball team the year they won state. And the senior class makes one each year; each kid brings in a chunk of fabric and somebody sews it all together. Some of them are memorials, I know. . . . People bring fabric to the funeral or visitation, something they think would mean something, and the church ladies sew it up. I don’t know about the wedding one, though.”
“So your high school one is up there somewhere? From when you were a senior? What’s your fabric look like?”
“It’s just a chunk of blue. I was a bit of a minimalist, I guess.” He didn’t say that the blue of the fabric had been an exact match for the color of the lake on the day his father had left them for the last time. He didn’t say that he checked on it every year, saw how the color was fading, and was glad of it, because the memory was fading, too, and that was just how it should be. Maybe someday he’d tell her about . . .
Wait a second. There was no someday, not for him and Ashley Carlsen. What the hell was he thinking?
Before he had time to figure that out, though, there was a new distraction. Someone roaring his name from across the tennis court, and the crowd parted as David McArthur strode forward. He was dressed for golf and carrying a golf club, and Josh had time to think it should have been tennis before David was right in front of him, red-faced and blustery. “You son of a bitch! Right under my nose? While I was fucking paying you?”
