The Lake (The Lake Trilogy, Book 1) (5 page)

“That’s funny,” Luke chuckles. “Of all the people for you to hone in on, you pick the families of our law firm partners. See the guy with the silver hair and blue Polo? That’s Gregory Meyer. He’s the senior partner at Meyer, Fincher, and Marks. The woman to his right is his wife, Eliana. The man in the plaid shirt is Josef Fincher, with his wife Marie. Next to them are Daniel Marks and his wife Alice. Josef’s son is Chris, the blonde, and Daniel’s son Tyler has the buzzed dark hair. The other boy is Gregory’s son, Will. The girl with the short hair is Caroline, but I don’t remember the other girl’s name.”

“That’s Gwen Kestler, honey,” Claire adds, jogging Luke’s memory.

“Oh, yes, that’s right. We met her last year at the bar-b-q. Do you want to me to introduce you? You’ll be going to school with all of them at Heyward Prep,” Luke offers.

“No! I mean, that’s ok, another time.” So, the boy I had been staring at was Will Meyer, son of the senior partner of Meyer, Fincher, and Marks. How is it that I gravitated to the most unfeasible option of all the guys there? Not that I’m looking, but still. Yes, there will be plenty of time to embarrass myself in front of them and the rest of their rich and fashionable friends once school starts. I’ll keep my distance for now and delay that humiliating experience for another day.

Just as I’m about to release my gaze from the league of models, Will turns and catches me by surprise. I guess I had been boring a hole into the side of his head and he couldn’t take the pressure any longer. He smiles a remarkable smile, one like I’ve never seen before. I want to look away but I can’t. And it’s not just because of his god-like features. There’s…more. Will’s face changes, his eyes grabbing hold of mine, and it’s like I can hear him say,
“
Have we met?
”  My heart starts to race. I give him a weak smile and snap my head to the left and force myself to break the lock between our eyes. It was the strangest, most exhilarating five seconds of my life.

The concert is about an hour in and I need to find a restroom. Claire points me in the direction of the library, but I need to go around to the right side of the building to the entrance on Main Street. She offers to go with me, but my independent self wants to find it on my own. I open the door to the library and a gust of air is sucked outside to mingle with the fragrance of grass and exhaust. The smell of old books is intoxicating. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, exhaling so slowly that I let out the last breath in time to keep myself from seeing stars. I wander just a few aisles as I make my way to the bathroom and recall the mental note I made when we arrived at the concert tonight
to check out the bookstore. Finding the bathroom was easy. Finding my way back to our blanket proved to be another thing. I must have exited through the back of the library because I am definitely not on Main Street. I start walking in the direction I think I hear the music coming from but I quickly realize I’m hearing the echo of the music on the buildings. I cross the street and discover I’m now on Main Street and going in the right direction back to the Green. I need a GPS installed in my brain.

Looking in the direction of the Green, and not watching where I’m going, I literally run into someone coming out of the coffee shop. I feel awful because our collision has knocked his drink right out of his hands and into an icy mess on the sidewalk.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” I say looking down at the pool of soda on the ground.

“It’s ok. Not a big deal, really. It’s only Coke,” he says with a chuckle of complete coolness.

I look up to see that I have collided with Will Meyer. He’s even more beautiful up close. He’s tall with light brown hair, worn in a messy, gelled mop and has eyes that are a deep crystal blue. My view of him earlier did no justice to his heavenly good looks, but I need to stop my inventory of his physically amazing qualities before I forget my place. I draw my attention back to the icy puddle on the ground. Each piece of ice lies there, mocking me, reminding me of my awkward existence here.

“Hi. I’m Will Meyer,” he says smiling dreamily.

“I’m Layla Weston. It’s nice to meet you.” I shake his hand fearfully aware of how sweaty my palms are.

“It’s nice to meet
you
. You’re Luke Weston’s niece. He said you were coming to live with them. Sorry about your grandfather.” He’s so articulate and smooth that it catches me off guard. I’m not used to boys his age being so well spoken.

“Uh…yeah,” I say a little surprised that Luke would have told anyone I was coming. “I’m really sorry about your drink. I’d buy you a new one, but I don’t think I have any money on me.” I feel around
in the pockets of my shorts as if I’m searching for some loose change knowing full well that there isn’t so much as a piece of lint to be found.

“It’s really ok. I promise. I’ll dig up another $2.65 somewhere,” he laughs. “In fact, I’ll even buy one for you, just to show you there are no hard feelings. What d’ya say?” His smile is perfectly infectious. As much as my heart is pounding with embarrassment right now, I can’t help but smile back at him.

“That’s ok. I’ve got an unfinished soda back at our spot. Now if I could only find Luke and Claire.” I look across the street to the huge crowd of people, both to search for my destination and to keep myself from staring at Will.

“C’mon, I remember where you were sitting. I’ll walk you back,” he says stretching his arm out inviting me to take the first step with him.

Will leads the way back to our picnic spot, navigating through the crowd without stumbling, knowing exactly where he is going at all times. I’m either right next to him or just a step behind as we weave through the crowd.

Luke teasingly chides me as we arrive. “There you are! I was about to send out a search party
, but it looks like you found someone to rescue you. Will, I see you’ve met Layla.”

“Yeah
, funny that we would
run
into each other here.” Will emphasizes the word
run
and looks at me from the corners of his eyes, pleased with his corny joke. “I gotta get back, but…we should hang out this summer. I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

“That sounds great,” I lie. The idea of spending time with Will and his prep school socialites makes my stomach churn. I know I don’t fit in, and finding Will as attractive and charming as I do is a recipe for one embarrassing moment after another. I’m sure he’s just being polite in the moment in front of Luke, so I agree happily, knowing I won’t have to worry about
it.

“Great. I’ll see you later then,” he says walking away. After he’s taken several long strides around people and over blankets he turns around and calls to me. “Hey, Layla!” I lift my chin to acknowledge him. “I changed my mind. You owe me a Coke!” He smiles as I chuckle nervously and turns to make his way back to his family and friends.

“What was that about?” Claire asks.

“Oh, nothing…just the worst first impression in the history of man.” I say
while I watch- no, stare- as Will walks back to his camp. As I begin to talk myself out of this strange nervousness fluttering inside me I find myself now on the receiving end of a glare. Will’s father, Gregory Meyer is staring at me. His face is hard and expressionless. His silver-gray hair reveals years of stress from high-stakes plea-bargaining. The lines on his long face are a road map of the secrets he holds under attorney-client privilege. It’s clear that this man does not play games. I meet his gaze and respond with a forced smile, but there’s something about him that has my gut twisted into knots. He echoes my feigned smiled with one of his own and turns away. At least if I ever have to meet him in person I’ll have already had this creepy experience and won’t turn our first face-to-face meeting into a career crushing incident for Luke or Claire.

The concert and Green festivities were over by nine, but we didn’t get home until close to ten. The traffic getting out of there was insane. It was a fun night, though. Good music and a chance to get to know Luke and Claire a little better. I’m glad I went despite my tragic first encounter with Will Meyer. I want to
, but I can’t stop thinking about him. He is, by far, the most charismatic boy I’ve ever met. He’s eloquent and polite and funny. I still can’t put my finger on it, but there is something about him. Still, I’m a realist. I’m not his type, so there will be no pining. I won’t see him again until school starts anyway, so that’s that. I have all summer to pretend I never met Will Meyer.

I sleep much better in the days that follow. No more nightmares, for now. I’m getting comfortable here faster than I thought I would. Each day I feel a little less like a guest. Luke and Claire correct me every time I ask permission to do something they’ve already given me carte blanche to do, like use the computer or watch TV in the loft. They are constantly reminding me that
this is my home now, and little by little it’s beginning to sink in.

Although Claire has offered to take me anywhere I’d like, there’s nowhere I really want to go. I’m not quite ready to go exploring yet
, so I spend most of my time reading. Well, I try to spend my time reading. Every time I sit in this gigantic chair in front of the windows in the loft, I get lost in the view and my mind wanders. I think a lot about mom and dad and wonder what life would be like if they were still alive. I think about the last Presidential election and am sure they would have been more involved in that one than any other in their lives, and they would both still be teaching. That was their biggest passion. I think about Gramps and realize if he were still alive I would be doing pretty much the same thing that I am now: sitting and reading a great book…in between chores and tending to him, of course.

Next to homework and housework, reading is the only thing I ever did on a regular basis. I used to read the classics over and over again. I must have read
The Chronicles of Narnia
ten times, but last year something happened. I don’t know how or why, but a switch got flipped and an interest emerged for what I used to call “girly books.” Ok, I didn’t call them that as much as I mocked them. They’re books about life, relationships, and romance. The classics were safe and dependable. Many were so fantastical that I didn’t get emotionally involved because I knew there was no way any of the characters could be real people…mostly because they weren’t
people
. They were hobbits, ice queens, and animals, but this new genre is different. I don’t know why I started reading them. Maybe I was trying to find out about what I knew I had no one to teach me. I’m levelheaded enough to know the stories are fiction, but they’ve helped me understand the idea of love in a way I never had. Love can be wonderful and romantic, but it can also be the hardest thing to encounter. Somehow, I connect with the characters and trust them.

My contemplation is interrupted when Claire calls to me that it’s time for lunch. I’ve been lost in my thoughts since after breakfast and it’s time I rejoin the cognizant. I collect myself and walk downstairs to the kitchen where Claire is standing at the island chopping what I assumed are salad ingredients: cucumber
s, carrots, lettuce, onions, tomatoes. “Can I help?” I ask eagerly. I figure if I phrase it as I’m helping, rather than working, she’ll let me do something.

“Definitely!” Claire smiles really big. “Do you enjoy cooking, Layla?”

“Yes.” I hesitate before I continue, weighing my options. Do I tell her that I was my mother’s sidekick in the kitchen or not? Will it conjure up the bad blood between my father and Luke? If it does, will she take sides? I decide I have to put it out there sooner rather than later so I know what the expectation is. Gram made it clear early on and, while I didn’t like it, at least I knew where the lines were drawn. “I used to help my mom in the kitchen all the time. She taught me how to cook. I’m no gourmet, but I’m pretty good,” I say and wait.

“Well
, maybe we can add that to your list of chores,” she says, smiling and making air quotation marks at the word
chores
. “I love to cook, but Luke thinks I make spaghetti too much. I bet you could teach me a few things!” she chuckles.

Not so much as a flinch at the mention of my mother. Not that she would have rolled her eyes or been disrespectful
; Claire’s too classy for that, but I could have been talking about anyone. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, or maybe it’s Luke that will lay out the perimeter for conversation about my parents. I will test those waters soon. I have to know if I will continue my silence, or if the ban on discussing my parents has been lifted.
Oh, how I hope it’s been lifted.

As I’m getting some left-over chicken from the fridge
, Claire informs me that Luke’s assistant on the basement project is here and asks me to get four plates from the cabinet. Luke comes in hot and sweaty from the door to the basement with his apprentice close behind.

“We meet again,” Will Meyer says as he emerges from behind Luke.

I’m going to pass out. This can’t be happening.

“Will, you remember my niece, Layla,” Luke says.

“How could I forget? It’s nice to see you again.” He wipes his hand on the side of his pants and reaches out to shake mine, flashing his irresistible smile. Even dirty and sweaty, he is still handsome and charming. His hands are strong, like they’ve seen their fair share of work. I’m surprised to see him here. I hadn’t pegged him for a blue-collar-work kind of guy. I thought his people
used
hired help, not
were
the hired help. I can’t help but be both confused and impressed at the same time.