Page 80 of Lucy Loves Him Not
We ate the pancakes around the white, scratched up, round table in the kitchen on plates we’d used since I was a toddler. It got us remembering all our summers with Grandma here at the cabin.
“Do you remember the time we snuck in a last-minute trip before school started and she sent us off early to get ready anddid all the cleanup for us?” Gracie asked. Cabin courtesy was cleaning up before you left—laundry, vacuuming, all of it.
“Oh, well, it was generous, yes. But shealsohad a man she was seeing here at the lake that summer. I’m pretty sure she was staying back a couple of extra weeks to see him without us in her hair,” Mom said, dragging her bite of pancake through a puddle of syrup.
“What?” Olivia’s eyes bugged out. Her fork stopped in the air, mid-bite. “A sneaky summer fling!”
“Did she have more game back then than I do now?” Gracie sighed.
“I remember how she was always sitting out on the porch every morning. Always awake before all of us,” I said, pulling my legs crisscross on the chair. “Grandma out by the lake with her coffee.”
“How early do you think she woke up?” Gracie pushed her empty plate away.
“I think it was around six, no matter if she was at home or on vacation. She liked to watch the sunrise, especially here at the lake,” Mom said.
I grinned. “Grandma always loved what she loved with all her heart—the festival, the lake?—”
“Us,” Olivia added softly.
Mom pushed a red curl behind my ear. “A trait she passed down to her granddaughters.”
“I think Mom should get on Love Local,” Gracie said, taking us by surprise.
“What?” I said, the confusion showing on my face.
Olivia tilted her head like she was mulling over the idea.
“Gracie, I don’t have the…” Mom started.
“The what?” Gracie asked. “If Grandma can have summer romances in her, what, seventies or eighties, you can set up a dating profile in your sixties.”
Mom opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. She didn’t have any reasons or excuses not to, and I realized, I didn’t have any for her either.
“Maybe Gracie’s right,” I said, warming to the idea.
“Mom, you could use a little wining and dining!” Olivia said high and giggly.
Mom shook her head. “I haven’t dated since, well, how old are you, Liv? It’s been years earlier thanthat.”
“Last time I set up an account, Lucy got herself a bespectacled cutie who made me soup. Let’s see what happens when I set up an account for you.” Gracie tapped the table gamely.
Gracie and Olivia were playing chess. Mom was taking a shower. I felt antsy with an idea buzzing from my chest to my mind from our conversations about Grandma and her morning coffee. I went to the backroom where we stored tools and craft supplies and found some old art supplies I’d left here over the years. I carried some tubes of acrylic paints, brushes, and a blank canvas to the kitchen table with the view of the lake.
I painted the lake at sunrise with Grandma on her favorite wooden bench, her gray curls that were once strawberry blond, and her steaming mug of coffee which I knew would have two big spoonfuls of sugar. I painted her hands and could remember their texture as they tucked my curls behind my ear.
A few tears plopped onto the fresh paint and I left them.
Twenty-Nine
The storm wasn’t letting up, so it seemed we were stuck in the cabin for the rest of the day. No swimming under the sun or grilling burgers by the lake for us.
Gracie and Mom were setting out the Monopoly pieces when my phone started to buzz. I glanced down to see Adam was calling me.
“Hey,” I said, walking from the living room down the hall toward a quiet, empty bedroom. “How are you?”
“Not great,” Adam said, his voice strained. “It’s hailing like mad out here. I’m worried there’ll be real damage to the festival set up.”
My heart sunk. “No.”
