A Week at the Lake (29 page)

It was an answer but it wasn't.

“So I thought I'd surprise you. Is everything okay?” he asked, his brown eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes. Of course.” But she took a step back. “You just surprised me, that's all.”

He continued to study her, clearly waiting for something. It was too late now to make that first kiss more enthusiastic. Or squeal her congratulations at her first sight of him, but she felt small and petty. This was Adam. Whom she'd loved since the first moment she saw him and who had somehow managed to achieve his most cherished goal. Was she going to nurse her hurts and grievances now that he'd finally come? Or was she going to celebrate his success and share his happiness with him?

She threw her arms around him, kissed him hard on the lips, and said, “You must be so excited.” She breathed in his familiar scent, felt the familiar tightening of his arms around her.

He smiled full out then. “Oh, I am. I'd almost given up, you know? I have to pinch myself every once in a while just to prove this is all really happening.” He laughed delightedly.

“But it is happening,” she said. “You did it!” She tucked her arm through his then led him toward the kitchen, eager to get back on more solid footing. “Come on. Let's open a bottle of wine to toast your success and you can tell me all about it. Then we'll go out and take a swim with Emma and Zoe. Oh, and tonight we're going out for drinks and dinner on Jake Richards's boat. And we can all celebrate together.”

She let him select the bottle then rummaged through the cabinet for two wineglasses as he pulled the cork. She saw his shoulders relax with the first sips of wine, watched his white-toothed smile begin to flash as she gave him her undivided attention. His sentences came out in a torrent and each began with “I” or ended with “me.” A trait she'd never noticed in him before.

He's earned it
, she told herself as he talked nonstop. But it was hard not to notice that it took little more than an occasional smile or nod to keep the flood waters of her husband's self-satisfaction rising.

E
arly that evening the sky had turned an inhospitable pewter gray and the wind had begun to pick up. Zoe stood on the dock watching Jake and Ryan approach in
The Mohican
. Emma stood beside her as the boat rounded the buoys that marked the rocky remains of Rush Island. “Don't you think he's cute?”

“Who?” Emma teased, though there was no question at all as to which Richards her daughter was looking at or referring to.

Zoe turned and rolled her eyes, which Emma chose to consider a testament of sorts to her improved medical status and a step closer to normalcy. Who would have thought that that teenage gesture of dismissal would have proved such a morale booster? “Jake's not bad for an older guy,” Zoe finally conceded after an assessing look at Emma in which she undoubtedly factored in her mother's date-worthiness. “I mean, he probably looked a lot like Ryan when he was younger, right? And he does have a sense of humor. But he's not as funny as Ethan Miller.”

“True,” Emma conceded. “But it's not exactly fair to compare him to a professional.” She glanced back at the house to see if Serena's “friend” had arrived. Serena had come back that afternoon glowing in a way that only came from great sex, not that Emma would have any recent experience with that, and a secretive smile on her face that Mackenzie insisted meant he was married. But would a married man show up
for a group outing with people he didn't know? Emma sighed and reminded herself that whom Serena dated was her own business and the least of Emma's concerns.

“Ryan's so different from the guys at home,” Zoe said, her eyes trained on the boy as the boat drew closer. “He's way more grown up and interesting. Everybody back in LA spends all their time trying to impress everybody else.”

Footsteps reverberated on the dock behind them. As if summoned by Zoe's West Coast reference, Adam Russell joined them on the dock, his arm slung casually across Mackenzie's shoulders as if she were an additional appendage. He looked, as he almost always did, as if he'd stepped off a
GQ
cover. In this case, in billowy white linen pants and a black Polo shirt that would go perfectly with Jake's classic boat.

Adam stopped next to Zoe, who was built with the same kind of tall ranginess as Mackenzie and Adam, and who with a little reddish gold mixed into their blond hair, could easily have been cast as Zoe's parents. Even Nash and Regan could have played her daughter's parents more convincingly than Emma. “I really can't get over how you've shot up,” Adam said giving Zoe's long ponytail a tug. “Is she really going to be sixteen, Em?”

Mackenzie flinched but Adam didn't seem to notice. Could he really have forgotten that Mackenzie and she had been pregnant at the same time? An occurrence that had put so many irreversible things into motion. His unexpected presence was a complication she hadn't planned on when she'd invited Mackenzie and Serena to the lake. “I can't even remember the last time I saw her.”

Emma stepped between Adam and Zoe. She remembered the last time in graphic detail. “She was five and we were all in New York at the same time. We had drinks at Bemelmans with Gran. You'd just finished that script based on a group of people eerily similar to us who met while they were studying drama at NYU and lived near each other in the Village.”

“I guess it was a tad derivative,” Adam said.

“A tad?” Mackenzie said. “There were lines of dialogue that were word for word from our real life.”

“True,” Adam conceded good-naturedly. “But I remember I'd written in parts for all of you.”

“Mackenzie was the only one who didn't want one,” Emma said.

“I'd take a part in a heartbeat,” Zoe said.

Emma closed her eyes. Wondering when others would notice the things she couldn't help seeing. When she opened them
The Mohican
was beginning its approach to the dock. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The previously smooth surface of the lake had turned choppy with the wind.

“Now, that's a boat,” Adam observed as Jake cut speed and drew closer. “I've seen some classic wooden boats on Lake Michigan but I've never seen one prettier than this.”

Jake threw the boat into reverse and docked smoothly. “You know boats?” he asked as he cut the engine.

“Not really. But I love to ride in them. Boats are a little like lake and beach houses. As much as we might like to own them, sometimes it's even better having friends who do.”

Emma introduced Adam to the Richardses as she moved forward to take the bowline from Jake. Ryan shot Zoe a smile as he stepped off the stern. The boat rose and fell slightly on the now choppy water.

“The forecast was iffy before we left,” Jake said. “But I figured we could make it up to the Algonquin and eat out on the docks. Only the weather's moving in a lot quicker than projected.” Jake pitched his voice above the sound of the water slapping against the sides of the boat. “I'm thinking maybe we should tuck her in the boathouse and sit tight for a while, see how quickly it passes through.”

“Good idea,” Emma said. “Zoe and Adam can stay and help. Mackenzie and I'll go forage for snacks and drinks while you get her settled. We'll see you inside.”

“You need help?” Nadia narrowed her gaze at Emma as she and Mackenzie entered the house. “You look funny.”

“I'm fine.” Emma swept a hand over her head surprised as always by the feel of what was now a little longer than a crew cut. At the moment that crew cut was slick and damp. “We just had a change of plans due to the weather.”

“You call if need me,” the nurse insisted. “I go in room. Read important book Edmund recommend me.” She held up the tome in all its weightiness. “Is
War and Peace
by famous comrade Leo Tolstoy. Edmund say it real page burner.”

“Are you sure you're feeling okay?” Mackenzie asked Emma after Nadia's bedroom door had closed behind her and they had begun to take stock of the kitchen.

“I'm good.”

“I don't know,” Mackenzie said. “Something seems . . . off to me.”

“I'm fine.” Despite what Emma thought was a perfectly executed “cease and desist” tone, Mackenzie did not cease or desist.

“I don't know; you seem to be somewhere else. Like you're seeing something no one else is. And the first time you saw Adam you looked . . . so shocked.”

Emma tried not to react, but apparently she wasn't completely in command of her facial expressions, either.

“There,” Mackenzie said. “Like that.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Emma stuck her head in the refrigerator and took her time perusing the potential offerings. She found a container of Martha's homemade spinach dip, an assortment of cheeses, slices of prosciutto, and most of a salami. She began to pull them from the refrigerator. “You seemed a little surprised to see Adam, too,” she said as she laid her finds on the counter then went into the pantry in search of a box of crackers. “But you haven't seemed all that excited to see him.”

“I'm extremely happy and excited for Adam,” Mackenzie insisted.

Emma remained silent as she retrieved two bottles of red and two bottles of white from the wine refrigerator. She wondered if Mackenzie had even noticed how evasive her answer had sounded. “That's not what I said.”

“It's just that I haven't seen him for a month, which has never happened before. At least not since we got married.” Mackenzie never alluded to the months before their wedding when Adam had broken things off and hitchhiked out to California. “And . . . I don't know. I'm not sure I'm as ready for as many major life changes as he seems to be.”

“Amen, sister.” Emma was still trying to determine whether she'd thought the words or spoken them aloud, when the front door swung open letting in the sounds of laughter and footsteps along with the unmistakable sounds of a lashing rain. That was the thing about change. Even when you were the one shaking things up, you had no real control over how things would turn out or even how others would react. When she'd invited Mackenzie and Serena to the lake with the purpose of setting things to rights and making provisions for Zoe, it had never occurred to her that the women whose lives she might be turning upside down would have spent the last month suspending their own lives in order to take care of her and Zoe. And she most definitely hadn't imagined that anyone else, especially Adam, would be there when and if the shit finally hit the fan.

S
erena came inside shaking her head to dispel the raindrops, her hand clenching Brooks's. Adam's arm was around her waist as he called out, “Hey, look who I found!”

They tromped into the kitchen in what could only be called a mob, everyone talking at once. Until Emma finally said, “All right everybody. Hang on. Let's let Serena introduce us to her friend.”

Serena froze in the silence that fell, suddenly unsure whether springing Brooks this way was such a good idea after all. She hadn't envisioned this kind of pandemonium or, apparently, even stopped to think it through any further than wanting to share her current state of happiness. “Well, um, okay,” she said. Adam's arm left her waist. Brooks gave her hand a quick squeeze and turned a friendly smile on the others. He seemed genuinely unperturbed. “So, this is, my, um . . .” Serena swallowed, keenly aware that every eye was on her. She wasn't sure if it was rain or sweat dripping down her forehead and trickling between her breasts. “As I was saying . . .” Another swallow, this one more desperate than the last.

“It's nice to meet you, Emma,” Brooks finally said, flashing his pearly whites. “You too, Mackenzie. I've been looking forward to meeting all of you. Adam.” He shook all of their hands while Serena watched in silence, suddenly unable to remember her own name, let alone his. She had never actually envisioned this ever happening. “I'm Brooks Anderson.”

For a moment a silence fell.

“I'm Serena's friend from Charleston,” he clarified. As if there were another Brooks Anderson from some other city that Serena had once planned to marry.

“Nice to meet you.” Jake Richards stepped forward, introduced himself, and shook Brooks's hand, shooting a look at Emma as he did. Ryan did the same. Serena realized the name must have finally registered when Adam swung around to get a closer look.

“Well, hell,” Adam said. “I'm not sure whether to say hello or punch your lights out.” He turned to Mackenzie. “This is kind of like Little Red Riding Hood bringing the Big Bad Wolf to the party.” He shook his head.

“Are you referring to me as Little Red Riding Hood?” Serena finally found her voice if not her equilibrium.

“What do you say, Mac?” Adam asked her.

Mackenzie shook her head. Serena had the distinct
impression that if Zoe and Ryan hadn't been present she would now be demanding to know whether Brooks had brought his wife with him, too.

“You all help yourself to whatever you can find.” Emma gestured vaguely at the things lying all over the counter. “And, um, feel free to talk amongst yourselves.” She exchanged a look with Mackenzie, then the two of them headed toward Serena.

Brooks might or might not be the Big Bad Wolf, but he was not stupid. He stepped out of their way as they took hold of Serena, wheeled her around, and led her toward the stairs.

“You've been sleeping with Brooks Anderson. The man who dumped you to marry someone else. The man you cried over for a good four years and who caused you to develop a married man habit that has not made you happy,” Mackenzie said. “And now you're sleeping with him, a married man?”

They'd escorted her to Emma's bedroom without a word then shut the door behind them. If there'd been a bare light bulb and a length of hose available, Serena had no doubt they'd be using them on her right now.

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” Serena asked even as she wondered why she was surprised by their reaction. She'd been pressed into a club chair next to the fireplace. Emma sat on the edge of her bed. Mackenzie was pacing back and forth like an attorney grilling a hostile witness.