The Lake Season (15 page)

“
I
was supposed to go to Vermont.”

Millie studied her. “Well, I don't see what the big deal is. We can drive up there any weekend.”

“No, Mom. This is about Leah.”

“What about Leah? Considering all she has on her plate, it was nice of her to offer to make the lumber run.”

Iris was flabbergasted. “Mom, don't you see what she's doing? She loves the dress, then she hates the dress. She sulks for Stephen, then runs off with Cooper. The scales are always tipping in the wrong direction. Leah lives life according to these crazy whims. Nothing's changed!” Iris could feel the heat in her cheeks.

“Iris, your sister is doing the best she can. Besides, you were busy.”

“Busy with
her
wedding. Which she dumped on me. And besides, she doesn't even like long car rides; they make her throw up!”

Millie stood very still, listening. But Iris could see the wheels turning. “I didn't realize you felt so strongly about
Vermont.
”

“What is all this about Vermont?” Bill asked.

Iris stood quickly, her chair scraping across the hardwood. “Fine, let's get this out. You and Leah don't want me to go to
Vermont
, because I should be focused on
Massachusetts.
Isn't that right?”

Millie's lips tightened.

“Are you going somewhere?” Bill interjected.

“For the record, I've given my life to Massachusetts. For nineteen years! But Massachusetts doesn't want me anymore. Which brings me here. Where everyone's so preoccupied with weeds and weddings, I don't belong here, either.”

Millie flinched. She'd taken a step back against Templeton, who let out a low growl.

“I'm afraid you've lost me,” Bill said. But Iris was on a roll.

“No time for a nervous breakdown; there's farmwork to be done! But as it turns out, I'm no good at that either. Even the tomatoes aren't safe in my presence.” Iris was shouting now. “And now that I've finally found something to do with myself, something I'm actually good at, you all think I'm moving to
Vermont
. Well, I'm not.
Vermont
is just a place to go. A nice place to visit. That's all!”

The kitchen fell silent. Like wayward civilians who'd innocently stumbled into a minefield, her parents remained frozen, wary of the next detonation.

Iris gathered herself. “And besides, you can all rest easy. Because I'm sure
Vermont
has no interest in me!”

Millie blinked several times.

“Who's going to Vermont?” Bill whispered.

“No one!” Iris stormed out of the kitchen. “
No one
is going to
Vermont
.”

Outside, Iris raked her hands through her hair. Leah had guilted her into helping out with wedding plans that were already planned. Burying her beneath files, all so she could get Iris out of the barn and slide into the seat next to Cooper in the truck.
Iris's
seat.

And yet, as murky as Leah's motives appeared, there was a vivid truth to be extracted. The uncomfortable smile on Leah's face whenever Stephen wrapped his arm around her and talked about their future little family together. The pained expression when she watched Cooper's truck drive away that first evening when she'd found Iris working with him in the barn. The unhappiness over the bridal grown. Over Stephen's departure. And Iris's work in the barn.

Millie had blamed it all on wedding jitters and the stress of family reunions. Iris could appreciate that. After all, here she was, the estranged big sister, all grown up with a family of her own, returning home empty-handed and on the brink of divorce. What new bride would welcome that? She was like a black cat crossing the path of Leah's happily wedded future. But it was more than that.

And what of Iris, anyway? Iris felt as if she'd just found her own footing. Sure, she wasn't stupid enough to think this summer escape bore any resemblance to reality.
That
would still be waiting for her, in all its painful glory, when summer ended and she returned home. There were facts to face. The fact of Paul. And their ugly next steps. But here, if only for a moment, she'd felt the familiar flutter beneath her skin. The old Iris. She was here: in the water, balanced on a ladder in the barn, in the waking moment before sleep surrendered to the truth each morning. She was not barren of her old self as she'd feared. She was just beginning to reunite with her, like a ghost, from a much-missed past.

Sluggishly, Iris climbed the grassy hill, her cumbersome thoughts slowing her pace until she needed to sit. And so she did. Right in the middle of the hill, she sank down and allowed herself to unfold against the landscape, her head pillowed by the dense green blades around her. Iris closed her eyes. The smell of summer was strong in the sun-bleached grass. It felt good. She knew she should worry about ticks or bugs. But she didn't move. Not when the peepers began their twilight chirrup around her. Not when Millie called her name from the back door, over and over, finally giving up. Not even when dusk fell like a gauzy blanket, suffusing the sky and her worries in twinkling darkness.

•    •    •

The next morning they were still not back. Millie watched Iris from across the kitchen as one watches a rabid animal: keeping her in her sights, but at a safe distance.

“So, no sign of Leah?” Iris slammed the sugar bowl back down on the table.

Millie paused, choosing her words carefully. As if they might be her last. “No. It seems they had to stay overnight.” Then she rushed to add, “Leah said they had some kind of car trouble.”

“You mean truck.”

“Excuse me?”

The coffee sloshed onto the table as Iris stirred her cup roughly. “They were driving Cooper's
truck
. Not car.”

Millie gripped her own mug more tightly. “Fine, then. Truck.”

Iris was acutely aware of the looks her parents exchanged. She was beyond caring.

“Not to worry,” Bill chimed in. “They'll be home sometime this morning.”

“There, you see,” Millie said brightly, as though that wrapped everything up with a neat bow.

“Perfect,” Iris muttered. The coffee rose up in her throat with a new bitterness. She had to get out of there. She felt like a certain measure of power, power she'd worked so hard to gather for herself, had been taken away. But most of all it was the image of the two side by side in the cab of Cooper's truck that she couldn't shake. She'd waited up, determined to confront Leah. But when they still hadn't shown up by midnight, she'd decided to hell with both of them. Unable to sleep, she'd spent a long night flipping absently through magazines and, later, TV channels. Aside from the crow's-feet around her eyes, she might as well have been in high school again, sitting home alone on the couch with a
Seventeen
magazine while Leah was out on date with a cute boy Iris secretly coveted.

She rose abruptly from the table.

“Now, where are you going?” Millie asked.

“To the lake.”

Outside the day was bright. Her morning swim took her farther into the center of the lake than ever before, a sardonic nod to one of the few benefits of anger. Limbs limp with exhaustion, Iris pulled herself out of the water and headed back up the lawn to the house. The truck had still not returned.

She showered quickly and phoned Trish at the café. “Can I come over?”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Iris lied. “I just thought we could get a head start on the cookbook.”

There was a clattering of pots and pans in the background. “It's still morning rush hour here,” Trish puffed.

Iris winced. She couldn't stay at the farm another moment. She certainly didn't want to be there when the truck returned. “I don't mind waiting. Consider me another customer.”

Downstairs, both of her parents were still loitering in the kitchen, sentinel to the door.

“Where are you going?” Millie asked.

Iris ducked into the mudroom. “Into town.”

She'd just slipped her feet into a pair of sandals when she heard the crunch of gravel outside. All three of them looked up at once.

“They're back!” Millie announced.

Iris froze. She did not want to be caught here, trapped in the mudroom with her still-wet hair and puffy eyes. She spun back toward the kitchen, but Millie was already blocking the doorway, coming through it herself.

“Iris, really,” Millie grunted as Iris bumped against her. The two women shuffled left, then right, trying to get out of each other's way.

“Mom, can you just . . .”

But the mudroom door swung open behind them before Iris could escape. And it was not Leah who filled the doorway.

“Stephen!” Millie gasped. “What a surprise.”

Iris's jaw dropped. What was he doing here?

“Come in, come in!” Millie welcomed him.

Stephen, in a linen shirt and holding a dozen yellow roses, stood in the door with a sheepish grin. The poster boy of chivalry.

“I know I'm two days early, and I apologize for not calling ahead. But I wanted to surprise Leah.” His eyes twinkled in anticipation. Instantly Iris felt bad for the guy.

“Nonsense,” Millie said, leading the way. “It's a wonderful idea. Bill, look who's here!”

More coffee was poured, and chairs were pulled out around the kitchen table. Mute, Iris found herself seated once again, derailed from her escape to the café.

“So,” Stephen said, looking at the three faces smiling nervously back at him.

“So,” Bill repeated.

In the awkward silence that followed, Iris held her breath, waiting for it.

Stephen cleared his throat and looked around. “So, where's Leah?”

•    •    •

“What did they
say
?” Trish asked. She grabbed Iris's hand across the café booth, squeezing too hard.

“Ow!”

“Sorry. I just can't believe this. I mean, this is awful, right? For you, of course. But for Stephen, too . . . the poor schmuck.”

“Yeah, well.” Iris dumped the contents of her bag on the table, and the notebooks and pencils rolled across its surface. She was too numb to discuss it anymore. “Can we get to work now?”

Trish shook her head. “No way! Finish the story.”

“There's no ending yet. Leah and Cooper are still gone.”

“Did you try calling them?”

Iris held up her hands. “Not me. Though Millie just about set the phone lines on fire. The woman literally closed herself off in the pantry with the phone, pretending to hunt down some alleged baked goods, when what she was really doing was hitting redial over and over. All while Dad poured Stephen cup after cup of coffee, just a few feet away. She kept shouting, ‘Still looking for those cookies. Can't imagine where I put them.' As if we couldn't see the long yellow phone cord shut in the pantry door.”

Trish's head wagged back and forth. “Good lord. What was their explanation? And did he buy it?”

Iris shrugged. “They just said she'd driven to Vermont for a lumber order.”

Trish's eyes widened. “No mention of Cooper? Or an overnight stay?”

“Nada.”

“I'm sorry,” Trish said, lowering her voice.

“For what?”

Trish appraised her old friend knowingly. “The whole thing stinks. I mean, I'm not saying anything happened between Leah and Cooper—I'm sure there really was a problem with the truck. But, I don't know . . . things just seemed to be going somewhere with you two.”

Iris held up her hands. “Whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves. There is nothing going on with Cooper and me.” She opened a notebook and started flipping through it irritably. “Let's just get to work, okay?”

Trish eyed the files and notebooks strewn across the table between them, and let out an ominous breath. “So we're really going to do this cookbook?”

“We are,” Iris informed her firmly. She bit into a chocolate-­dipped croissant, willing the confection to eradicate her ill will. She needed to focus on something good.

But Trish could not let it alone. “Can I ask just one more teeny question?” She had a cheeky expression on her face, one that usually got her what she wanted.

“Not getting into it,” Iris warned her, tearing off another piece of croissant. “These are killer, by the way. They have to make it into the cookbook.”

“Sure thing.” Trish crossed her arms. “But it'll cost you.”

Iris looked up, licking a stray dab of chocolate from her upper lip.

“One chocolate croissant recipe for a straight answer. Hell, I'll even throw in some cream filling.”

Iris narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn't.”

“Start talking.”

“Trish.” Iris set the last bite of croissant down on her plate. “You get three questions. That's it.”

“
Three?
What are you, a genie now?”

“We've got work to do.” Iris smacked the large binder of recipes on the table for emphasis.

“Party pooper. All right, then. Is Leah on the top of your hit list?”

“I am, if you really want to know. That's one.”

Trish rolled her eyes. “None of this is your fault, Iris. Stop being such a masochist. So, what are you going to say to Leah when she gets back?”

Iris clucked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. They have to be yes-or-no questions. You know the rules!”

“No fair. If it's just three questions, then I need more elaborate answers.”

“Uh-uh. Make it work.”

“Question two: Are you going to confront her?”

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean, you don't know? Surely you've got something to say?”

Iris popped the last bite of croissant determinedly into her mouth. “That's three.”