Page 47 of The Summer Request
“I talked to Chloe before we took off,” Val said. “She said Lou threatened her before he broke up with her.”
Michelle raised an eyebrow. “What did he say?”
“You know, the usual. That she’d go nowhere in life, and she was banned from ever attending an Emerald meeting again. Blah blah, who cares. You know she already contacted her PhD program and they said they’d be happy to take her back?”
“That’s great.” Michelle’s quiet paranoia that Chloe had set them up finally faded. Michelle’s default state was to be suspicious until proven otherwise, but it didn’t make sense.
Lou had outed Chloe as innocent. He had also revealed that Keith had no idea who Sam Beverly was, which did make things a bit more mysterious.
“Are you feeling okay?” Lisa asked.
Michelle nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Better than before.”
“With your low alcohol tolerance, you’re only two Bloody Marys away from a really good nap,” Val said with a laugh.
“Did you slip a Benadryl in one of these olives?” Michelle asked, pulling away and staring at the glass.
Val snapped her fingers. “Shoot, no. That would’ve been smart.”
Michelle was able to focus on reading a book for the remainder of the flight. They then had a smooth, quick landing and a two-hour layover in Boston before their short hour-and-twenty-minute flight to Maine.
As they got ready to board, Michelle caught sight of the plane in the window. It was a puny little thing, not like the massive Boeings she’d gotten used to. That meant no first class, no emergency safety slides, noanything,really, didn’t it?
Maybe they got parachutes? Michelle had watched these small planes fly around San Juan Island for years and was never tempted to get in one. They ended up in the ocean too frequently for her tastes. Arthur assured her it wasn’t a common occurrence, but she couldn’t be convinced.
Now here she was, walking on board like a fool.
She told herself it was for Justine, because it was. The answers they needed, if they existed, were in Maine.
Despite being in a much smaller and jumpier metal tube, the flight went quickly. Michelle was now used to five-hour flights, apparently. This was nothing, and she hardly had time to worry about landing before it was announced they were touching down.
It was a relief when they landed at the little community airport. It was only a two-mile drive to Mount Desert Island.
Zora had arranged for a rental car to be waiting for them at the airport, and the keys were at the front desk. She was incredible, and the last piece of their journey seemed within reach. Michelle suddenly felt the full weight of the excitement, the feeling that had been held back by her flying anxiety.
They piled into the car and Lisa drove them right onto Mount Desert Island.
How odd it was to drive to an island. Michelle was glad there were no roads to San Juan, despite how convenient it might make things. She liked being remote.
Yet the ease of this journey was unquestionable. Within minutes, they were on the island and only a few miles from the town of Bar Harbor, where they were staying, and from Acadia National Park.
Michelle couldn’t wait to see it. There were an incredible number of hikes and magnificent views ahead of them. This was the part of the trip she’d been waiting for.
Lisa drove on slowly, and Val remarked how much the route reminded her of San Juan. They rode past alternating tall forests, farms, and spread out two-story homes. Every now and then they saw a sign for a bakery, or an ice cream shop, or a lobster shack.
It was calm. Nice.
Michelle was glad she’d made it. This was her pace, much more than Los Angeles or Miami.
The only thing they were missing were views of the sea. That was soon corrected as they got nearer to town. The houses grew closer together and glimpses of the water appeared behind the trees.
They hit town and Michelle’s chest tightened. It was adorable, like something from a magazine. They passed a little inn with ivy growing up the side, then a slew of shops, all cheerful yellows or blues or bright, clean whites.
Despite being thousands of miles from Friday Harbor, Bar Harbor had captured the same coastal charm. It looked like a little fishing village, albeit with some upgrades for tourists to enjoy.
After much oohing, aahing and pointing, they pulled away from town and onto a quiet street. The GPS announced they’d arrived just as they hit the opening of a deserted-looking gravel road.
Lisa stopped the car. She already drove with her chin almost at the steering wheel, but she leaned even further forward to peer ahead. “I can’t see anything past all of these trees. Do you think the house is down there?”
