Page 11 of The Summer Guests

“I’m sure she’s fine,” said Brooke, watching her slip the phone back into her pocket.

“And there’s plenty of daylight left,” said Arthur. “When these two were boys, they’d run around after dark like a wolf pack, raising a ruckus. It’s what kids do here in the summer.” He pointed to a photo on the wall, of Colin and Ethan clutching bows and arrows. “Look at those little savages! How old were they?”

“I was about eleven,” said Colin. “Ethan would’ve been eight.”

“And didn’t you try to hit someone’s cat with that bow and arrow? I remember quite a to-do with the neighbors.”

Colin laughed. “I plead the Fifth.”

“Let’s remember to take a photo this year,” said Elizabeth. “We haven’t done one in a while, and we should do it while the family’s all together again.”

If only wewereall together,thought Susan.Where are you, Zoe?

She felt Ethan’s arm come around her waist. “I’ll take another look around the pond,” he said quietly. “The local kids like to hang out at the boat ramp. Maybe she’s there.”

“Yes. Please.”

The others didn’t notice Ethan slip out of the house. They were all focused on the photos, the pictorial history of the family’s summers on the pond, everyone indifferent to her fears. Or maybe she was misreading what seemed to her indifference. Maybe they were only trying to distract her and ease her anxiety by forcing her to focus on the photos, on old anecdotes from Maiden Pond. That would be the charitable spin, that they did not want to worry her, but it wasn’t working. Shewasworried, and what she felt now was ignored. Dismissed.

“How young we all look here,” said Arthur, pointing to the first image, with “1968” written on the bottom. It showed a youthful Elizabeth and George standing under the pine tree with Hannah Greene’s parents and Arthur. He was strappingly handsome then, and he towered over the balding and bespectacled Dr. Greene. At the far edge was little Hannah, holding the disembodied hand of someone who’d been cropped out of the photo.

“God, I hate seeing myself get older,” said Elizabeth as they regarded the photos of their summers on Maiden Pond. Colin and Ethan, growing taller every year. Hannah, ripening into middle age. “Just more wrinkles, more gray hair.”

Arthur winked. “You’re aging like a fine wine, Elizabeth.”

“Or turning into vinegar.”

“And look whofinallyarrives on the scene,” said Colin, pointing to a photo of a blond infant cradled in the arms of a woman with lustrous black hair. In contrast to the young woman’s dark skin, the infant looked pale, almost sickly. “There’s our Kit, with his nanny.”

Brooke wrapped her arm around Kit. “He’s still my baby.”

Susan tried to play along, tried to pretend she was interested in the photos of Kit as a baby, Kit maturing from anemic-looking toddler to anemic-looking teen. She didn’t really want to hear how sick he’d been as a child or about all the doctors who’d failed to explain his stomachaches. When your own child is missing, you can’t focus on the woes of another child, but they would not stop talking about how Brooke had made it her mission to keep her son healthy, and look at him now, as tall as his father!Maybe he is as tall as Colin,thought Susan,but it’s hard to tell when the boy never stands straight but perpetually slouches like a human question mark.

Now they were on to refills of their drinks, more rattling ice cubes, more gin and lime slices splashing into glasses. More stories trotted out, everyone looking calm and relaxed. Everyone except Kit, Brooke’s precious Kit, who had clearly checked out of the conversation and was staring out the window.

She heard Ethan walk back into the house and felt a cruel stab of hope that he’d found Zoe, but when she turned to look at him, all he did was shake his head.

She looked once again at her phone. No new messages.

Susan scarcely touched her dinner. While everyone helped themselves to roast chicken and mashed potatoes and salad, she kept glancing at her phone, willing it to ring, willing a text message to appear. She had already driven up and down Shoreline Road, had knocked on a few doors, asking if anyone had seen her daughter, but no one had.

“I know you’re worried, but this is a safe little town,” said Elizabeth. “When the boys were young, we never worried about them.”

“They were boys.”

“She’s with a friend, isn’t she? So she’s not on her own.”

“I’m sure she’s just in a dead zone,” said Colin. “There’s lots of places up here where you can’t get a signal. It’s one of the annoyances of living in the woods.”

As if this is nothing more than an annoyance,thought Susan, watching her brother-in-law calmly continue his meal, knife scraping across his plate, eyes on his food. That self-assurance no doubt served him well on Wall Street, but tonight she found it grating, even though she knew he was right. Theywerein the woods of Maine. Thereweredead spots where her phone didn’t work. Zoe must still be at the house of her new friend, the one with the cow, and was probably having such a good time that she’d forgotten to call her mother. It was damn thoughtless of her. Oh, Susan would give her a stern lecture when she came home, about inconsiderate behavior, about how not to give your mother a nervous breakdown.

Ethan reached under the table to squeeze her hand. He, at least, looked worried. “I’ll go into town and take another look at Main Street. Maybe someone’s seen her there.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, you stay here. One of us should be here when she comes home,” he murmured, and left the table.

She glanced again at her phone. Still no message.

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