The worker held the door open for me, too. I kept my eyes lowered as I thanked him and followed Paige inside.
“Anyway, Carla had a total meltdown. I tried to do damage control, but I was home when it happened and by the time I got here, it was too late.”
“Louis fired her?”
We stopped in the dining room doorway. Paige turned to me and cocked one eyebrow.
“Right,” I said. “That’s your job.”
“And I didn’t do it. She was a bit emotional, but I actually thought she had potential.”
“So what happened?”
“She quit. Leaving us with zero servers right before the breakfast rush.”
“There was a rush?” I asked.
“Well, no. But I was hoping for one.” She held up her phone. “That’s why the emergency meeting and countless texts. I had to rearrange schedules and keep the remaining waitstaff calm. The tips haven’t exactly been rolling in, so they were already on edge. I was afraid they’d all jump ship—some of them did—and that you and I’d have to do double duty.”
“You know I’d be happy to help however you needed me to.”
“I do, thank you. But fortunately, that won’t be necessary.”
She tilted her head back. I leaned to the left and looked past her to the bar … where a pretty blonde was polishing glasses.
“Natalie?” I said.
Paige’s eyes lit up. “You know her?”
“I met her. She came in for lunch the other day.”
“Well, she came in for breakfast today—just as Carla was tearing off her apron and storming out. There was a family here who’d been seated but hadn’t ordered and a couple still waiting to be seated, and no one was helping them. So Natalie did.”
“What about Louis?” I asked. “And the other staff? They couldn’t have filled in?”
“Sure they could’ve. And if Louis hadn’t been so busy howling about how no one quits on him, and if the rest of the staff hadn’t been cowering in the corner of the kitchen, maybe they would’ve.”
I watched Natalie rearrange wine goblets and shuffle shot glasses. She moved quickly, confidently, like she’d spent quite a bit of time behind a bar counter.
“She worked at the same restaurant back home in Vermont for five years,” Paige said, as if reading my mind. “She’s here for the summer because her dad insisted they have one last father-daughter adventure before she leaves for college in the fall.”
“Then why has she come here alone both times?”
Paige looked at me. “Because he was swimming? Napping? Reading the newspaper? And she had time to kill?” She studied my face, which reddened under her gaze. “Vanessa … is something wrong?”
I started to say no but stopped. I’d heard the suspicion in my voice, too, and denying something was up would only invite more questions that I didn’t know how to answer. Paige knew me too well to let it slide.
“Sorry,” I said. “Weird morning, that’s all.”
She stood up straight. Her eyes widened. “Was it the orange truck? Did it follow you here?”
“No, thankfully. I haven’t seen it again since that night.” I’d told Paige about the chase because I had to tell someone and didn’t want to worry my parents. Also, with the exception of last year, she’d been a full-time Winter Harbor resident her whole life; I thought she might have some idea who the truck belonged to. She didn’t, but said she’d keep her eyes and ears open. “I just didn’t feel great and it took longer than usual to get going.”
“Thank goodness. About the truck, not about—”
“Got it.” I smiled. “How’ve you been, by the way?”
“What do you mean?”
I waited for a busboy to pass before lowering my voice and continuing. “Physically, since we’ve been back. Do you feel any differently here than you did in Boston?”
She considered this. “Not really. Maybe a bit more tired, but only because thinking about this restaurant stuff keeps me awake at night. Everything else feels pretty normal.” She paused. “Why? Do you?”
I didn’t want to give her something else to worry about unnecessarily, so I shook my head. “Just tired, too. But I guess it’s to be expected, considering the new house and moving and everything.”
“Absolutely.” She took my hand. “Come on. I know what’ll help.”
She led me through the dining room. As we passed the bar, Natalie’s head was hidden behind an open cabinet door. Paige, apparently deciding formal introductions could wait, breezed by without slowing down.
In the kitchen, she instructed me to sit on a stool by the meat freezer while she dodged Louis, who was quiet but still cranky, and gathered food. Two minutes later, she handed me a plastic tray and sat on the stool next to mine.
“Bagel with seaweed-infused cream cheese, fries, iced water, and an extra-large coffee. All coated, dipped, or filled with salt.”
I followed her finger as it pointed at different dishes. “This should be the most unappetizing, inedible meal I’ve ever been served.”
“But?” Paige asked.
“It’s perfect.”
She stayed with me while I ate and kept an eye on Louis to make sure he didn’t terrify anyone else into leaving. We kept the conversation light, talking about my Jeep and her plans to paint the lobby and build flower boxes. It had been days and we still hadn’t returned to the topic of what I’d overheard at the open house, but that was fine with me. I was hoping it was a fluke—and one we could eventually forget.
I’d felt fine when I’d arrived, but after eating and visiting with my best friend, I felt even better. In fact, Colin could burst into the kitchen and declare his love for me right then … and my heart wouldn’t even skip a beat.
As it happened, Colin didn’t burst into the kitchen. Natalie did.
“Someone’s here about a takeout order?” she said. “Cute guy with glasses?”
I lowered my coffee cup. Louis tossed Natalie two brown paper bags. She disappeared back through the swinging door.
“Cute guy,” Paige said, after a pause. “With glasses.”
I nodded, sipped.
“Don’t you want to say hi?”
I did. So much so, it was taking every calorie of energy I’d just consumed to keep from leaping off the stool and flying from the kitchen. But I couldn’t help thinking about what Dad had said about Mom, and I didn’t know if I should.
“The ball’s in his court,” I explained. “I can’t jump the net.”
“But he knows you’re here. If he didn’t want to see you, he wouldn’t have come inside.” Paige shrugged. “I’m no athlete … but that sounds like a serve to me.”
I put down the cup and handed her the tray. “Be right back.”
I dashed into the dining room. As I passed the mirrored wall behind the bar, I made the mistake of checking my appearance. Driving with the top down had dried my shoulder-length brown hair into a network of knots and tangles. And I’d been in such a hurry to get here, I hadn’t stopped to put on mascara and lip gloss, the two basic touch-ups every girl needed to make before going out in public—or so Justine had always said. Both my brush and makeup were home, so the best I could do was pinch my cheeks and force my fingers through my hair as I headed for the lobby.
I needn’t have made the effort. By the time the front door came into view, Caleb—not Simon—was already passing through it. Through the window, I watched him lower sunglasses—not eyeglasses—from the top of his head to in front of his eyes as he walked to the Subaru.
“I know that look.”
I turned to Natalie. In my disappointment, I’d forgotten she was there.
“Actually, I own that look.”
I tried to smile. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She leaned against the hostess stand, pulled on a thin chain around her neck. A small silver circle with a single diamond slid out from beneath her tank top.
“My boyfriend proposed to me two months ago,” she said.
“Wow.” I couldn’t tell if I was more surprised, since she was my age, or envious. “Congratulations.”
She hooked the ring on the tip of her thumb, twirled it with her pointer finger. “We’d been together three years but I still thought we should wait. He didn’t, and I loved him too much to put up a fight. His point was that we knew we were always going to be together, so what difference did it make when we made it official?”
I nodded, wondering why she was telling me this, but too curious to ask and potentially prevent her from continuing.
“Anyway, we decided to get married at the end of the summer. A big thing—two hundred people, ice sculptures, a reception at his family’s house on Lake Champlain.”
“Sounds nice,” I said.
She looked up from the ring. “It does, doesn’t it? And it would’ve been … if he hadn’t called it off three weeks ago.”
“Why?” I asked. I couldn’t help it.
“All the reasons I’d given for waiting—we were too young, there was no rush, dating was fine for now—plus one more.”
I waited. She gently flicked the ring from her thumb; it fell to her chest.
“He was in love with someone else.”
I pictured a red rowboat. A beautiful girl with silver eyes and short black hair. Simon, leaning forward, closing his eyes … kissing her.
“Maybe he’s not,” I offered quickly. “Maybe he only thinks he’s in love with someone else—because he got cold feet with you.”
She gave me a sad smile. “Thanks. But believe me, I know him and I’d know if that were true. If there were any chance it was, I wouldn’t have let my dad talk me into this extended vayscape.”
“Sorry?”
“Vacation slash escape. We’ve consolidated syllables in the interest of time and painful reminders.”
As Natalie started to walk away, I thought her story explained why she was here in Winter Harbor. It might also explain why she was here at Betty’s Chowder House; last summer, I, too, had jumped in and accepted an impromptu job for distraction. What it didn’t explain was why she’d shared it with me.
“My boyfriend … my ex-boyfriend … he never proposed,” I offered.
She turned back. “But you still want to be with him?”
The answer was easy, automatic, but I couldn’t say it out loud. Fortunately, Natalie filled in the blanks.
“Then you better make it crystal clear. Because if you don’t … someone else will.”
CHAPTER 8
LATER THAT NIGHT, I stood in the lake house kitchen, staring at my cell phone screen. No matter how much I wanted them to, the words wouldn’t write themselves, but everything I’d tried in the past hour had sounded wrong. I needed to be casual yet serious. Charming yet sincere. Undemanding yet irresistible. And the longer I took trying to be all those things, the less time I’d have to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Assuming my labor paid off, which it might not. That possibility only made it even harder to figure out what to say.
You’re a siren, I chastised myself. Like it or not, this should be easy.
I stared at the phone another minute, then put it down. Picked it up again. Opened the refrigerator. Closed it. Turned on the radio. Spun the dial.
I was trying to decide between jazz and oldies, the only two stations that didn’t sound like they were broadcasting from the center of a funnel cloud, when there was a knock on the kitchen door.
My eyes locked on the shadowy outline behind the shade I’d lowered earlier for privacy. I reached reflexively for the ceramic jar of knives and wooden spoons, and when it wasn’t there, reminded myself that the surprise visitor was probably Anne, the realtor, or people who’d seen the for sale sign by the road and wanted a closer look.
As I headed for the door, I squeezed my phone in one hand and made a mental note to talk to Mom about this. After all, it was eight o’clock. The house was still ours. Just because we no longer lived in it didn’t mean anyone could swing by at all hours of the night.
“Vanessa. Hi.”
Unless, of course, anyone was Simon.
“She drives an Audi,” he said.
I leaned against the door for support. “Who?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head, motioned toward the driveway. “Your realtor. She drives an Audi. Black, with a roof rack. When I saw the Jeep, I didn’t know … I mean, I wasn’t sure … I just thought I should check and …”
“The Jeep’s mine,” I explained quickly. “It was a graduation gift from my parents.”
“Oh. Nice.” One side of his mouth lifted. “And in forest green. I’m pretty sure I know whose pick that was.”
I grinned, too. “The Dartmouth bumper sticker and antenna flag will be arriving any day. And the backseat is just big enough to hold my new Dartmouth duffel bag when it’s stuffed with my new Dartmouth sweatpants, sweatshirts, towels, and pillowcases.”
“Pillowcases?”
“Those were actually my pick. They’re flannel and surprisingly comfortable.”
His smile relaxed, then faded. “Congratulations, by the way. On graduating. And Dartmouth, and everything else. Those are some major accomplishments.”
His words were happy but he sounded sad as he said them. I knew why. It was the same reason I’d accepted my diploma with tears in my eyes, and automatically dialed the Maine area code, then hung up, when I got the letter from Dartmouth.
He should’ve been there. And if last fall hadn’t happened, he would’ve been.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked.
He inhaled. “Do I want to?” His eyes met mine, stayed there. I held my breath, scared that if I moved even an inch, he’d talk himself into leaving. “Yes. But should I?”
And just like that, my words were failing me again. How did I convince him to come in without actually convincing him? What could I say to help him make the decision all on his own? Since talking to Natalie, I had to do something to make sure Simon knew how I felt, but after my conversation with Dad a few days ago, I still wanted him to have as many choices as possible. Which was why the plan for the night had been to simply let him know I was there. If he wanted to see me, he could. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t. Whatever happened after that would be totally up to him.
“There’s a new shower curtain,” I finally said. “In the downstairs bathroom.”
“You mean the vinyl one with the pastel world map …?”
“Gone. Fifteen years was an impressive run, but our realtor said it’d make potential buyers put their wallets away, and Mom wasn’t about to let it in the fancy new house. So we threw it out. The replacement has stripes, not countries.”
He nodded slowly. “Now, this … I think I have to see.”
My heart lifted. Mentioning bathroom décor wasn’t exactly twisting his arm … so this was totally his call, wasn’t it?
I moved aside, opened the door wider. He took one step and stopped.
“Oh. You’re expecting company.”
His gaze was fixed on the table set for two. I’d brought dishes from the other house and had arranged them while procrastinating my perfect text.
“I should go.”
“No.” My hand was on his arm, my heart in my throat. “Don’t. Please.”
“Vanessa,” he said, his voice strained, “I know it’s been a while … but I can’t. I still can’t see you with …”
As he struggled to finish what neither of us wanted to hear, I realized three things. The first was that he assumed I’d arranged a romantic date—without him. The second was that he couldn’t have moved on, at least not completely, if he didn’t want to see me with anyone else, nine months after watching me make out with Parker King, Hawthorne Prep’s water polo star.
The third was that I was going to blow this chance, if I didn’t do something—and fast.
“It’s for you,” I said. “Or at least I was hoping it’d be.”
His eyes moved from the table to me. I opened my cell phone and held it up so he c
ould see the screen, which still showed the blank text I’d been writing. His cell number was displayed at the top of the white box.
“I was trying to figure out how to invite you over without actually inviting you over. Because I thought if I came out and said it, you wouldn’t come.” I closed the phone, looked down. “And I just … really wanted to see you.”
He didn’t say anything but he didn’t leave, either. Encouraged, I continued.
“Our new house overlooks the ocean. My bedroom’s so close, when the wind’s right, the spray reaches the windows.” I paused, fiddled with the phone. “I can hear the waves and tell when the tide’s coming in or going out. It’s slow. Consistent. Nothing like last summer.”
He was perfectly still. My eyes lifted to his chest; it didn’t move.
“Every night, I lie in bed listening to the water, and I think about how nice it would be to sit there, on the beach … with you. When the sun’s shining and the tide’s moving exactly as it should. We could just be together the way we used to be, before everything got so complicated.”
I stopped, waited. This was as much as I could say. Anything else would be like grabbing him by the arm and pulling him inside.
“We can’t go back,” he said quietly, a moment later. “Too much has happened.”
“I know.” I was only slightly aware of my pulse hammering in my ears. “But that still leaves forward.”
He looked at me. I leaned against the door to keep from launching toward him.
“As friends?” he said.
My pulse fell silent. “Yes. Of course as friends.”
His lips pressed together as he gave me a small smile.
“Do I smell garlic bread?” he asked.
I stepped into the kitchen and opened the door as wide as it would go. Happy tears sprang to my eyes as he came all the way inside, and I blinked them away before he noticed.
I’d gotten takeout from the Italian place in town and kept the food warm in the oven. We used paper plates I found on the top shelf of the pantry instead of the ceramic dishes I’d brought, and filled paper cups with water instead of the wine I’d taken from the beach house. Rather than sitting at the kitchen table, we wandered out back and ate on the deck steps.
Dark Water: A Siren Novel Page 7
