The Lake

FORTY-FOUR

Deana was setting place mats on the dinner table when the doorbell rang. It echoed through the hallway.

She froze.

It has to be Warren—but how can I be sure?

Could be Mace!

Nah. Mace wouldn’t return so soon after spying on me. Would he?

That’s just the kinda awful thing he would do.

She heard Mom go to the door.

Open it.

She was talking, her tone bright and friendly.

A low voice, interspersed with Mom’s highs, indicated an animated conversation was taking place.

Whoever it was, was standing in the hallway.

She heard Warren’s voice and huffed a sigh of relief. She raced through the living room into the hallway.

“Hi, Warren. You two met, I see!”

Mom was shaking Warren’s hand. She looked flushed and bright-eyed—as she always did with guests. That was the nice thing about Mom. She knew how to make people feel at home.

“Hi there, Deana. Your sister was just making me welcome.”

He winked at Deana.

Mom laughed, flushed some more, and went off into the kitchen.

They were alone.

Warren eyed Deana approvingly. “My,” he said. “You look stunning tonight.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You should wear blue more often. Much more becoming than black.”

Deana grinned. She put a finger to her lips. “Don’t you dare…”

Warren smiled and crossed his heart.

“Mum’s the word,” he mouthed.

Deana led him to the living room. She motioned for him to sit on the sofa.

“Dinner isn’t quite ready yet,” she said. “Care for a drink?”

“Mmmm. Whatever you’re having would be great!”

Warren looked around, taking stock of the room.

As if he hadn’t seen it before.

“Fabulous view you have over there.” He nodded in the direction of the glass wall.

“Yeah. That’s what everyone says. White wine?”

“Sounds good to me,” Warren said, smiling at her.

She went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of Chablis on a serving tray.

He’s a handsome guy, she thought, watching him take his glass. In a clean-cut kind of way. Dark slicked hair, gray suit, white shirt. A club tie of some sort.

Underneath all that, she sensed his taut, well-honed body. A squirm of excitement stirred between her legs.

Wondering how he’d look bare-ass naked.

“So you own a bookstore, Warren?” Mom said over dinner.

“That I do. For my sins.” Mom looked at him inquiringly. He laughed. “Sorry—a figure of speech! I love my work, Ms. West…”

“Leigh, please,” Mom said with a smile. “Makes life a lot simpler.”

“Leigh. Nice name, if I may say so.”

Deana glared at him.

Warren smiled back, sending her a sly wink at the same time.

I know he’s just being friendly, she thought. And Mom does have this effect on people. I should be used to it by now.

But she did feel a little on edge.

It’s that asshole Mace, she decided.

Suddenly appearing like that.

Scaring the pants offa me.

Well, not quite.

But he sure had me spooked there for a while.

What had really spooked her, though, was the way Mace had looked.

Zoned out.

Unsure.

As if he’d been really sorry about going into her room like that.

She stole a glance at Mom. She looked happy enough. Perhaps she hadn’t ever seen Mace as I saw him this afternoon.

Maybe I should let it stay that way…

Deana wanted to forget, but found she couldn’t. Mace coming at her like that was something that worried her a lot.

Warren and Mom were talking books. How Mom liked historical novels and biographies; she’d been searching for something on Bob Dylan. Warren said he’d look out for this really good one he’d heard about.

“Wonderful meal, Leigh,” Warren said, wiping his lips on his napkin.

“Thanks, Warren. Glad you enjoyed it. Duck à l’orange prepared this way is a Bayview special. Goes down well with the clientele.”

“Mom,” Deana put in. “Would you mind awfully if Warren and I went for a drive somewhere?”

Leigh’s face paled slightly.

Watching her, Deana almost changed her mind about going for a drive with Warren.

She’s remembering the night of the family party. When Allan and I left her to it with Gran and Pops.

“Mom. We’ll be back in an hour or so—won’t we, Warren?”

“Er, yes, of course. Would you mind, Leigh? I always hate to eat and run. But perhaps you’d both do me the honor of dining at my place sometime soon?”

Leigh smiled at Deana. “Sure,” she said. “That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it, darling?”

“Yes, Mom. It would.”

After they left, Leigh cleared away the dishes, piling them up, intending to wash them later. She took out a bottle of Chablis from the fridge and poured herself a glassful.

Strolling back to the living room, her mind was full of Deana and Warren. Mmmm. She liked Warren. He seemed mature and sensible; probably a safe date is what Deana needs right now. After all our problems, she could do with some relaxation…

She switched on the TV.

Maybe I should call Mace…

Or maybe I should take some time out by myself. Relax. Chill out.

Like an irritating insect, the tub scenario still lurked in a corner of her mind.

Afterward, though, Mace had made up for it.

They really were good for each other.

She was sure of that.

Her eyes followed the flickering screen, not really seeing what was there. She came to, focusing on David Letterman interviewing some celeb from Friends…

Leigh made a face. Reflecting that she must be the only person on the planet who wasn’t into Friends.

There must be something else worth looking at…

She played around on the remote, finally settling on an old Steve McQueen movie. Smiling to herself, she remembered she’d had this humongous crush on Steve McQueen after watching The Great Escape.

Steve on his motorbike…

Ultra-sexy.

Taking another sip of Chablis, she watched the screen some more. Not really understanding, now, why she’d been so over the moon about dear old Steve.

Her eyes strayed to the framed photographs on the TV table.

Something odd there…

One was missing.

The picture of Deana wearing her first bikini.

Showing off. Posing on a rock, her dark hair blowing in the breeze, the sea rolling in behind her.

Leigh remembered that day down at Point Reyes Beach. The first time she’d realized Deana had suddenly become a woman…

The same day Deana had reminded her of Charlie.

There’d been something about her smile. That small cleft in her chin. The way she stood there. At one with the elements.

Nature girl, Leigh had called her.

Now the photograph was gone.

Perhaps Deana gave it to Warren as a keepsake.

I’ll ask her later.

Leigh felt a twinge of regret.

That photo had been a good one of Deana.

One of her favorites…