Page 34 of Paging Dr. Summers

I looked down at my teal-and-orange flutter-sleeve romper, wondering if I’d spilled blood on it or something—I didn’t know why else Mr. Harrington would look so horrified. I bit my lip and wrung my hands together, feeling uncomfortable. Oddly, no one else seemed to notice. Was I just imagining things?

“Mamá. Papi. This is Brooke Crawford. We met at the Strawberry Festival over the weekend. Papi, her mother is Roxanne from the Roxannes. I knew you would bestokedto meet her,” she teased her dad.

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat, and he looked anything but stoked to meet me. His tan skin turned sallow, and it looked like he was holding back vomit—and not the word kind.

“Hello.” I gave a little wave. “It’s nice to meet you.” Or at least I thought it was. Mr. Harrington was giving me weird vibes.

“The pleasure is ours,” Mrs. Harrington said in a refined Mexican accent. “I’m Camila Harrington, and this is my husband, Maxwell.”

Mr. Harrington zipped to his wife’s side and grabbed her hand and held on for dear life. “It’s nice to meet you,” he stuttered. “You’re Roxanne’s daughter?” He sounded like he was out of breath. Maybe he was ill.

“Yes. Did you meet her?” I’d just thought he was a fan, but it sounded like he knew her.

His neck broke out in huge red splotches. “We met a couple oftimes when the Roxannes were doing the college circuit, and they came to UNLV. She was a talented musician. Is she still playing?”

Huh. I’d just assumed he would have seen her perform at the Strawberry Festival, but it was neat he’d become a fan at college.

“Papi,” Lola said through gritted teeth. “Her mom passed away.”

He gripped his wife tighter. “I’m sorry to hear that, Brooke.”

“Please, don’t apologize. I’m just so excited to meet a fan of hers.” I wanted to know if he knew other Roxannes fans from his college days, but I didn’t get to ask.

“Oh, yes, my husband loves their music. He still listens to them on his ancient stereo in his office.”

I smiled, so happy. “I love that. My mom would have loved that too.”

Lola held up the tin. “Brooke brought cookies. Your favorite, Papi. Triple chocolate.”

Mr. Harrington said nothing, only blankly stared at the tin.

“Well, come sit down,” Mrs. Harrington invited. “And tell us about yourself.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.” I could tell that Mr. Harrington was on edge about me staying. His eyes darted off to the side like he was looking to escape. I couldn’t figure out what his aversion to me was. Part of me wanted to flee, but something was telling me to stay.

“It’s no intrusion at all,” Mrs. Harrington stated.

“Please, stay.” Lola set the cookies down, pranced over, grabbed my hand, and led me to one of the cream couches in the great room, which had a wall of windows and a breathtaking view of the lake.

I smiled at Lola as she sat next to me. More and more I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew her. It was kind of like when I met my best friend, Claire, the first day I started at the radio station. She’d been working in the marketing department that she now ran. There’d been this instant connection between us, like the universe was telling us we were meant to be BFFs.

Was the universe adding another BFF to my life? I wasn’t sure how Claire was going to feel about me coming back home with several newbesties. Not that anyone could compare to her. It was just that I seemed to be collecting new friends like crazy in Aspen Lake.

Well, I was trying to. Logan was back to avoiding me. He could run, but he couldn’t hide. Scratch that. That sounded stalkerish, and I wasn’t stalking Logan. But I knew we were supposed to be lifelong friends, so I wasn’t giving up. At least not yet.

Lola’s parents sat across from us on matching armchairs.

“So, what brings you to Aspen Lake?” Mr. Harrington rushed to ask. The edge he’d displayed moments before was still in his tone. Also, was there a tremor in his voice? Or was I losing it?

For how nervous I was, it surprised me I hadn’t blurted out my entire life story already. But this was a different nervous. A kind I had never experienced before. I directed my attention to Mrs. Harrington, who was smiling and appeared more friendly, or at least more at ease, than her husband. Lola had made Mr. Harrington sound like he was a goofy dad, but I didn’t get that vibe. I had a feeling he wasn’t someone you wanted to trifle with. And somehow, I felt as if I already had.

“It’s a funny story, sort of. Right before my mom passed away, she made me promise that I would come to Aspen Lake and fulfill a bucket list. One that she made up, mind you,” I nervously tittered. “She loved Aspen Lake and, unbeknownst to me, she’d been saving a large sum of money for me, from the father I never knew.”

Part of me wished I hadn’t said the bit about my father. In this house, with what looked like the perfect family, it made me feel like less, if that made sense.

“Oh, goodness, did he pass away too, chiquita?” Mrs. Harrington asked.

“No. Honestly, I’ve never met him. I don’t know anything about him, not even his name.” I kept making myself sound stranger and stranger.

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