Dark Water: A Siren Novel (6 page)

There was a loud
bang
on her end of the phone. She screamed. I jumped.

“Vanessa, I hate to ask, but can I call you back? Louis is granting us all the pleasure of another world-renowned temper tantrum.”

“Of course,” I said, slightly relieved. Just because we needed
to talk about what I’d heard didn’t mean I wanted to. “Good luck. Call me when you can.”

We said good-bye and hung up. I looked across the yard and saw my parents still in the kitchen; I quickly dialed our new home phone number and watched Mom take the cordless from the wall. I assured her I was fine but just a little tired, and asked if we could postpone our family sit-down till later tonight. When she agreed, I hung up and went inside my bedroom.

My brand-new bedroom. With its new four-poster bed. Its new dresser and desk made out of newly reclaimed wood. Its new comforter, pillows, paint, and area rug. Its new stone-and-tile bathroom.

It was unlike any bedroom I’d ever called my own. It should be the perfect place to start over, move forward. The way Mom wanted me to. The way
I
wanted to.

The question was, would it be enough?

Trying to answer the question was exhausting. So, still wearing my damp swimsuit, I climbed into bed, pulled the blankets over my head, and slid both hands underneath the pillow.

Where I’d put the Bates sweatshirt and water bottle. They were the first things I’d seen when I woke up, alone, after passing out at the lake house that afternoon. They didn’t belong to me, but I’d taken them anyway.

Because they were Simon’s.

C
HAPTER 5
 

“T
ABLE FOR TWO, PLEASE.”

“Betty!” I closed the
Winter Harbor Herald
and hurried out from behind the hostess stand. “Paige didn’t tell me you were coming by.”

“That’s because she didn’t know.” Paige’s grandmother opened her arms and gave me a squeeze. “But it was so nice out, I decided to come see these amazing renovations she’s been talking about.”

Our eyes met as we pulled apart. Hers were clear, bright—like a cloudless blue sky. They looked nothing like they had this time last summer, when Raina and Zara had locked Betty away and kept her severely dehydrated until her body weakened and her vision began to fail. They were also clearer than they’d been last fall, after she’d regained her strength but was still being manipulated by the resurrected sirens. Paige
had said her vision was still compromised, but the sight made me so happy, I gave her another hug.

“Next time tell me the circus is in town, so I can bring peanuts,” Oliver, Betty’s boyfriend, joked as he scanned the paint cans and tarps spread throughout the lobby.

“It can’t be that bad,” Betty said.

“Compared to a tornado’s destruction? No. You’re right.”

I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It’s nice to see you, Oliver.”

His face softened. “Vanessa. Hello. Don’t mind me, I’m just—”

“Looking out for his family’s best interest.” Paige strode toward us through the dining room. “As always.”

“Can you blame me?” Oliver asked.

“Not even a little—and I can’t thank you enough.” Paige gave them quick hugs. “How about a tour? I’ll show you what we’ve been working on and fill you in on my other plans.”

Paige winked at me as she hooked one arm through Betty’s and led her into the dining room. Oliver followed close behind. As they rounded the corner, out of sight, I heard one last exchange.

“Paige, dear, it’s so quiet. Where is everyone? I thought we agreed to stay open during this process.”

“Grandma B … we
are
open.”

I checked my watch as I returned to my post behind the hostess stand. It was twelve fifteen on a Tuesday. The restaurant should be packed with locals, part-timers, and tourists. It should be filled with the sounds of dishes clanking, silverware
scraping, and the kitchen door swishing open and closed as harried employees flew through. But save for us and the staff, it was empty. The only sounds came from hammers and saws.

Paige had said Betty’s Chowder House wasn’t the only local business suffering, and according to the newspaper, she was right.

“Where’s your sign?”

I looked up; the quick motion made my head pulsate slightly. I slid a menu over the newspaper as a young woman crossed the lobby.

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“Your sign.” She held up a paper map, the kind with stick figures and cartoon drawings that the Chamber of Commerce hands out. “According to this, this is where Betty’s Chowder House should be. Not a construction site.”

“This is Betty’s,” I said, with a smile. “The sign’s down temporarily, for renovations. But we’re open for business as usual.”

“All the more reason to make sure people know where you are, right?”

My face warmed. “Of course.”

She held my gaze for a moment, then grinned. “So is the soup really as good as they say?”

“It’s better.” I took another menu from the rack on the wall and led her into the dining room.

“Is there a bar?”

I slowed and glanced over my shoulder. She looked about my age, maybe a year or two older. That would put her at twenty, tops.

“I hate eating at a regular table by myself,” she explained.
“And where there’s a bar, there’s usually a TV, which is the closest thing to company I’m going to get.”

I could relate. I’d come to Betty’s alone last year to be among people without having to talk about myself—or what had just happened to Justine. I wondered if this girl was here for similar reasons, as I showed her to the bar and gave her the remote.

“Your waitress will be right with you.”

“Thanks.” She took the menu and I turned away. “What’s your name?”

I stopped. Turned back.

“The place isn’t exactly crawling with employees. And I’m not a demanding customer, but I might come across that way if I call out, ‘hey, you!’ to get your attention.”

She seemed friendly enough, but I still debated whether to dodge the question. It wasn’t one most customers usually asked.

“Vanessa,” I finally said.

She held out one hand. “Natalie. Thank you again for being so accommodating.”

“You’re welcome.” I shook her hand. It was warm, firm.

She focused on the television perched on a shelf near the ceiling. I headed for the kitchen to find someone to wait on her. Because she was right. The place wasn’t understaffed, considering the lack of customers, but service was definitely sporadic since it wasn’t required on a regular basis.

“You need me.” Louis stood on the back steps, leaning against the door to keep it open and smoking a cigarette. “
Please
say you need me to do something.”

“I do,” I said. “But for only one customer.”

“That’s plenty.” He flicked the cigarette to the stone steps and put it out with the toe of his shoe. “You, my dear friend, are a lifesaver.”

I was about to ask where our waitress was when footsteps ran down the staircase leading to the break area. Carla, the young waitress, flew past me in a blur of black and white and burst through the swinging door.

“I better keep an eye on her,” I said. “Since Paige is busy with Betty and Oliver.”

Louis was already firing up the stove and didn’t seem to hear me. The only other staff members on duty, a busboy and sous-chef, flipped through magazines on the other side of the room. No one was paying attention, but I still felt a little weird standing to one side of the swinging door and peering through the small square window.

The exchange lasted seconds. Carla greeted Natalie. Natalie asked about a few menu items and Carla stammered through answers before writing down the order. Carla started for the kitchen again, then seemed to think better of it and headed behind the bar, where she poured two glasses, one of water and the other of iced tea, and presented both to Natalie.

I kept watching, even after our single customer was alone again. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see—Natalie looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to her?

She didn’t, of course. She simply sat at the bar, drinking water and flipping channels.

I was being paranoid. I knew that, even if I wasn’t sure exactly
why. Maybe it was because, with her supershort blonde hair, brown eyes, and long, tanned legs, she looked like the kind of girl most guys would be drawn to like magnets to metal—or men to sirens. Maybe it was because my head had throbbed—just once, and only slightly—when she’d walked through the door. The frequent, excruciating headaches I’d felt around Zara had always lasted much longer, but Betty had said that was because Zara was newly transformed and unable to control the signals her body naturally sent to other sirens. Maybe the reaction was less intense around more experienced sirens.

Or maybe it was because this was how it was going to be from now on. Because of everything that had happened, I was going to be instantly suspicious of any new, pretty girl I met, no matter how nice she was or how hard I tried to talk myself out of it.

I’d have to get over this soon. College was going to be challenging enough; I doubted I’d get through it without the support of a single new girlfriend.

“Heads-up, hostess with the mostest.”

I spun around just as Louis chucked two paper bags in my direction.

“The Carmichael-mobile’s en route.” He nodded at the window over the sinks. “I was so bored, I made them an hour ago so the fries are probably cold. But hungry men will eat anything, right?”

“So I hear.” I clutched the bags to my chest, where I’d caught them. I could feel my heart beating through the sandwiches. “Be right back.”

I gave Natalie a quick smile as I entered the dining room and passed the bar. She barely looked away from the TV. Then I practically ran the remaining distance to the lobby … where Caleb was waiting.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” I tried to hide my disappointment as I held out the bags. “Here you go. The usual, on the house.”

“Everything—”

“Okay,” I finished, guessing I hadn’t succeeded. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

And it was. I was just hoping, even more than I’d realized, that after taking care of me at the lake house the other day, Simon might want to pick up their lunches. But Caleb didn’t need to know that.

“Glad to hear it.” He nodded once, held up the bags. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

“Right. Have a nice night.”

He left. I returned to the hostess stand, opened the newspaper, and stared at the words without reading them. Between the buzzing saws and my wandering mind, I didn’t realize someone had come in until he stood right before me and spoke.

“Did Louis accidentally put the fries in the freezer instead of the oven?”