Still Lake - Anne Stuart [110]
“I can’t imagine why you’d want to.”
Another silence. “Okay,” he said, and she didn’t know what he was agreeing with. “I’ll go give Marge a call and make sure she’s coming out here.”
“If you want.”
Silence. When she looked again he was gone.
She sat down on the end of the dock, putting her feet into the cool water. She’d lost her barn boots along the way, though she couldn’t remember when, and the water felt wonderful. Maybe she should just slip into the lake, let the water wash the soot and sweat and sex from her body.
And maybe she didn’t want to lose the last trace of him. She sat staring at the lake, telling herself what a fool she was.
22
“So what are you going to do with your life?” Marge Averill asked her one morning two weeks later. “It’s not that I don’t love having you here, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, but the rest of your family is nicely settled, and you’re still wandering around like a lost soul.”
Sophie managed a wary smile. “They don’t need me anymore.”
“No, they don’t,” Marge agreed tactlessly. “Madelene Laflamme will take good care of Marty and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. She couldn’t have found a better place to stay. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“Yes,” Sophie said. “She’ll probably end up marrying Patrick and having a dozen babies.”
“Isn’t she a little young?”
“Davis women are like that. We only fall in love once, and no one else will do. At least Marty chose wisely.”
“It doesn’t seem to me as if your mother has spent her entire life faithful to one man,” Marge observed with some asperity.
“Actually she has. He died before she met my father, and she decided to make do. She’s been making do ever since, but that’s all.”
“And what about you? What about your lost true love?”
“I don’t have a lost true love.”
“True enough. He’s still here.”
Sophie looked up sharply. “What are you talking about?”
“What do you think I’m talking about? Thomas Griffin’s back in town. He was only gone for a couple of days, and then he came back. He bought the Whitten place, and he’s been working on it.”
“I hope he’ll be happy.”
“I don’t think so. He’s been snapping everyone’s head off. I figure the fact that you won’t talk to him might have something to do with it.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Oh, I imagine there’s quite a lot to say. I don’t know what went on between you two, but I can imagine.”
“Well, don’t. Read a romance instead.”
“That hot?” Marge said with a lascivious grin. “Lucky girl.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right, we won’t talk about it. What are you going to do today? I’ve got to show a house later this morning, and I’ve got some office work to finish up. When are you going to decide what you want to do with the land? At least you were smart enough to insure the hell out of the place. You could probably pay off your mortgage and even build something smaller.”
“And do what?”
Marge shrugged. “You’ll figure it out. You’ve still got your freelance writing.”
“I want a home.”
“So find one. Make one. It was just a house, Sophie.”
And all her dreams. She rose, plastering a phony smile to her face. “You know what they say—when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. I need some new clothes. There isn’t much in my style locally.”
“If you call that a style,” Marge said with a sniff. “You dress like an old lady.”
“I feel like an old lady,” she said stubbornly.
“There’s a Victoria’s Secret in Burlington.”
“Go to work, Marge.”
The summer had vanished, and autumn had descended with a vengeance. The air was crisp and cool, with a freshly washed look to it. Leaves had come down in the wind, as well as a number of branches, and when Sophie drove back into town, just after seven, she could see the bright color tipping the trees surrounding the lake. The seasons were changing, and the nip in the air promised sharper and colder days to come.
And she had to figure out what the hell she was