Page 2 of The Renter
1
Friday, May 6th, 2022
If you had told me I’d be twenty-five and living with my parents, I wouldn’t have believed you. But here I am, back in Williams Bay, Wisconsin—my hometown for the summer. The startup I poured my soul into for the last three years, Shirts, ran out of money, leaving me beyond broke and unable to afford rent in Chicago. Today, though, I’m not thinking about that.
Docked at the Municipal Pier in Williams Bay on Geneva Lake, my high school friends Kelsey, Sarah, and Sam arrive in short order. They all took the day off work to celebrate my return and to mark the end of the Shirts chapter of my life with some day-drinking in the sun. My parents were happy to let me borrow the boat. But I think it’s safe to say they’re not happy I’m living with them again.
“What a blast from the past,” Kelsey says, looking around at all of us. She looks great, though her fake tanning days are starting to catch up with her. “I can’t believe this boat still works.”
It’s the same boat we used when we’d go out on Geneva Lake in high school.
“Perks of having a mechanic for a father,” I say with a smile, stowing everyone’s belongings under the seats so they don’t blow away.
Kelsey opens her insulated tote bag, showing us the two bottles of wine she brought. “I’ve got pinot grigio and sauvignon blanc.”
Sarah, the tallest in our group, which isn’t saying much at five foot four, lifts the two cases of seltzers she’s carrying. And Sam, my friend since fifth grade and the only one in the group who was also on the swim team with me, pulls another two bottles of wine out of her beach bag.
“Do we have enough alcohol?” I laugh, then furrow my brows. “Did anyone bring cups for the wine? Or snacks?” All the girls shake their heads. “We’re too old to be chugging from the bottle.” I laugh, starting the boat. “At least we’ve upgraded to nice wine instead of plastic handles.”
“I can’t believe we ever drank from a plastic handle.” Sam grimaces, and we all wince, remembering our underage drinking days.
“So no one dies of dehydration.” Sarah laughs, handing each of us a seltzer.
“Cheers to Dani’s quarter-life crisis!” Sam raises her drink, and we all tap our cans together.
It’s great to be together like this again. A boat day with my friends is exactly what I need.
“Untie us from the pier,” I say to the girls. “So, we need cups and snacks. Did anyone bring a bottle opener?” Kelsey and Sam each quickly produce one. “Okay, cool. Let’s head to Fontana to raid my aunt’s lake house.”
“Nothing’s changed.” Kelsey chuckles, and we all smile.
This wouldn’t be the first time I used my aunt’s house and its provisions without her knowing. God, being back home is reverting me to my old ways.
“Does she even use the cottage anymore?” Sam asks.
“Barely.”
It only takes us a few minutes to arrive at Fontana, the next town over on Geneva Lake.
“I’ll grab some cups,” I call out to my friends as I hop onto the dock at my aunt’s association pier. “She might have left some snacks too, so I’ll grab whatever I can find.”
After walking a couple of minutes along the wooded path to her house, I retrieve the key from its hiding spot and head up the steps to open the side door. The place is … a mess. I furrow my brows seeing there’s clutter on the counters and dishes piled in the sink.
“Oh shit,” I whisper.
2
After finalizing my all-too-public divorce, and at the request of my board of directors, I’ve shifted to working remotely and part-time for the next couple of months. I’ve been angry for the past year and needed a place to regroup and figure out my next steps. So, I rented this little lake cottage in Wisconsin from a friend of a friend to escape Chicago for the summer.
It’s been a decade since I started my day in a slow churn. I’m looking forward to peaceful mornings with coffee on the patio and runs along the lakeshore path. I couldn’t live in a small town like this long term, but it’s exactly what I need right now. This summer, I’m focusing on finding balance and figuring out what I truly want.
Was that the door?I walk downstairs from the office toward the kitchen to investigate the noise.
As I round the corner—Jesus!—I almost say out loud. There’s a girl in a bikini in my kitchen. I glance at her perfect hourglass figure. Her tits are practically spilling out of a little black bikini top, and a sheer scarf is tied around her hips.Is that supposed to be a cover-up?What’s it covering? Although I’m not complaining.
“Hi, I’m so sorry,” she blurts out, looking flustered.She’s pretty.Her long brown hair softly frames her face and she has beautiful, big hazel eyes. “I forgot my aunt rents this place sometimes. I just wanted to borrow some cups, is that okay?”
She smiles, and damn, if she’s not a walking advertisement for orthodontics. Her perfect, white smile lights up her face, though it’s turning red.
