Page 196 of Story of My Life
I towed her out of the tent into the sliver of shade of the French fry stand. The sun was still doing its best to charbroil us. But the lake breeze had kicked up, making the heat slightly more tolerable. DJ Deena had been replaced with Darius’s cousin’sband, The Equations. They were wailing through a hastily learned version of “Help Me, Rhonda.”
“Levi got to sit and nod at the old man and the sea, and I had to emcee a heated battle for supremacy for an hour,” I pointed out.
“Your thank-you card will be much more expensive than his,” she promised.
“How did everything else go while I was bringing down the house in there?” I asked, dumping half of the water over my head.
“Good! The bookstore is having a banner day with the fifty-percent-off sale. An eighty-six-year-old lady tried to steal Peaches by putting her in her tote bag. So far no one’s noticed that little Timmy has been part of four different families today, including Timmy, who is perfectly happy wandering around with strange adults as long as he has a cherry Icee. Oh, and ten of our esteemed guests are enjoying a low-speed educational tour of the lake on the Hernandezes’ pontoon boat.”
“What’s Beto educating them on?” I asked.
“As far as I can tell, completely made-up town history and geology.”
“They don’t call us Story Lake for nothing. Now, how soon can we cut out of here and get naked in a shower?”
Hazel consulted her list and her watch. “We still have the bird-calling contest, extremely early dinner at Angelo’s, and then karaoke, and then the marching band?—”
“Excuse me, Ms. Hart?”
We turned to find one of the Silver Haven chaperones standing behind us. She was a middle-aged woman who topped out around five and a half feet tall. Four of those inches were hair. She had sweat stains on her polo shirt and was holding a small stack of books.
“Yes?” Hazel said, again trying to swipe her limp bangs out of her eyes.
“I hope you don’t mind. But I’m Sylvia with the Silver Haven group. I’m actually an administrator and my mother’s a resident. I volunteered to attend today’s field trip because I heard you lived here. Can I just say I’m a huge fan?”
Hazel beamed. “Really? Thank you so much!”
Sylvia nodded vigorously. “I’ve read every one of your books multiple times. And when I heard you had moved to anactualsmall town just like one of your heroines, well, I jumped at the chance to come see it for myself.”
“Well, thank you,” Hazel said. “That means the world to me that you would come here. I hope you’re enjoying yourself in Story Lake.”
“You’ve got yourself something pretty special here,” Sylvia said. Her eyes skated my way, and her smile widened. “Maybe someonepretty special too.”
“Oh, well…uh…maybe,” Hazel sputtered.
Enjoying her discomfort, I put an arm around Hazel’s shoulders. Her damp skin rejected mine, and my arm slid right off.
Sylvia turned back to Hazel. “I just wanted to tell you it gives us all hope to see you starting fresh and finding your own happily ever after. It makes the rest of us think we might be able to do it too.”
Hazel opened her arms. “I sweated off my deodorant about seven hours ago, but can I give you a hug?”
“How about a hug, a selfie, and maybe you could sign my books?” Sylvia bargained.
“I think I can find a pen,” Hazel said with a watery smile.
They were taking their twentieth selfie when our radios crackled.
“Mayday. Mayday. This is the Golden Oldie Tiki Barge. We’re taking on water. Requesting assistance immediately.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake! I told Arthur not to mess around on the boat,” Sylvia said, reaching for her phone.
Hazel and I left her and sprinted toward the lake. Gage, Levi, and everyone else with walkie-talkies converged on the dock.
The pontoon boat was in the middle of the damn lake, but even from here I could see it listing in the water. I yanked the cartoon character–themed walkie-talkie off my belt. “Golden Oldie Tiki Barge, this is Bingo Caller. How many passengers aboard? Over.”
“We got ten aboard plus me and the missus.”
