Page 18 of It Started at the Lake

“I’ll call out what side to row on. Once we get out a bit, we can float for a while before paddling back. Does that sound okay?”

“That’s perfect,” I say.

Bennett tells me how to paddle—dig the oar deep into the water as opposed to skimming the top—and what side. We quickly find a rhythm, and with how smooth the water is, we glide fast. Bennett takes us north, farther up the lake, staying somewhat close to the shoreline. I ask him questions about the wildlife and a few of the islands we pass by.

“We can stop paddling for now,” he says.

Resting the oar straight across my lap, I say, “There’s hardly anyone out here right now. I figured the lake would be packed.”

“June through August it is. The water temp is a little on the chilly side in May, but it’s my favorite time up here before the crowds come en masse.”

“What was it like growing up here? Do you get sick of spending every summer at the lake house?”

“You’d think I would, but no. There’s nostalgia coming here and as long as my family keeps coming, I will too.”

“That’s sweet. I’m envious of how close you guys all are.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, they get on my nerves faster than my students, but we get over our quarrels fairly quickly.”

Does that mean everyone is over the hot tub incident from last night already? “What’s that ballroom for?”

Bennett chuckles as if remembering a fond, funny moment. The sound carries across the open lake. “My grandma loves to dance. When they bought this house, they put it in so Grandma could invite all her couple friends over for a party. When I was little, I remember sneaking down one night after bedtime and watching everyone dance. I never thought my old decrepit grandpa could toss my grandma over his back and under his legs like he did.”

Do Mom and Dad know how to dance? Would their marriage have been different if they went out dancing together? “Aw, they really are perfect for each other. How old were they when you saw them dancing?”

“In their late-fifties. That party was the last one they held.”

“Did you ever learn to cut a rug like they did?”

A gentle wind picks up, making waves come at a steady pace. The kayak bobs, but the movement is gentle and relaxing.

“No. My parents didn’t either. Which is too bad because the room is unused now.”

“We could have a dance party there. It won’t be the same as your grandparents’ style, but might still be fun one night this summer.”

“And who would you dance with? I thought I heard you say last night you’re on a man-ban? Is that what you called it? And why?”

He caught that, did he? Bennett is familiar to me because of all the stories Evie’s told me about him. But I don’t really know him and I’m not ready to admit the real reasons I’m staying away from the opposite sex. Keeping to the truth, but a much lighter version, I say, “A man-ban means I’m not dating right now. I’ve had a few rough breakups the past year and need time to myself.”

“I can relate to that.”

Hearing the melancholy in his voice, I look over my shoulder at Bennett. His sunglasses hide his eyes, but his lips are turned down. “I’m sorry for your loss, Bennett.”

“Me too.”

Like fog rolling in, there’s a heaviness in the air. “Shoes or slippers?” I ask, continuing our game from last night and doing what I can to dissipate his despair by distracting him.

“Neither. I prefer sandals.”

Hmm. I’ll have to pay attention to what kind of sandals a millionaire wears. “Text or call?”

“People who like to talk on the phone are weird. Texting is much easier and faster.”

“I agree. Driver or passenger?”

“Driver for sure. I like feeling in control.”

“Funny, I’m the same.” Evie’s car is nicer and newer than mine, and yet, I drove us here. I have a feeling I’d be okay with letting go and allowing Bennett to drive me around. “Mop or vacuum?”

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