Page 125 of It Happened on the Lake

Harper wondered now how much Craig had witnessed back then. Had he seen her skinny-dipping at dawn or sneaking out of her room to moon-bathe those summers? Did he know that she sneaked out of her room to meet Chase at the dock?

Did it matter?

Probably not, she thought, again remembering Craig on his solo mission with the pistol under the cover of darkness, when he thought no one was watching. What the hell was he up to? Was it one of her grandfather’s matching revolvers? Should she bring it up? And how could she do it without admitting that she’d been spying, seated at the damned telescope while snacking on Doritos?

“Let me know if you want to sell the cars and the bike,” Beth was saying. “Craig would love any or all of them!”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Is he a collector?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean guys collect all kinds of things.”

“Like your grandma?”

“Well, not dolls and teacups and green stamps, but, you know, cars and equipment and guns, hunting gear, that kind of thing. Guy stuff.”

“Yeah, Craig’s into all of that,” she said as they went back to the house through the front door.

Beth was familiar with the main floor of the house and the terrace, so she passed on the living quarters. “I’ll check these out more thoroughly next time. And by then—no dolls.”

“Got it.IfI decide to sell.”

“I know, I know. You keep reminding me. But even if you don’t. For your own damned sanity. They would drive me crazy! But let’s see your grandmother’s bedroom. It’s on this floor, right? I was never allowed in as a kid.”

“She liked her privacy.”

“Don’t we all?” Beth said as she walked through the parlor and into Gram’s room.

“I guess.” But Harper winced, thinking how she’d spent time observing Beth and her family through the telescope, like a voyeur hiding in the shadows.

“This is like walking back into 1950—make that 1930!” Beth said as she noticed Gram’s Victorian vanity with its oval mirror and tufted bench. Gram’s bed had been stripped and draped, but a few of the dolls were in evidence, Raggedy Ann and Andy tossed into the chair that the cat Diablo had once claimed as his own.

Beth opened the drapes and stared out at the lake, then noticed the rag dolls. “Those two,” she said, motioning to Ann and Andy. “No messages scribbled on them?”

“No.”

“Good! In the trash with Maureen.”

“Maude,” Harper corrected.

“Whatever. They’re all history!”

“I’ll see. I have a lot to do here.”

Beth nodded. “I’ll say.”

Harper let it slide. She wasn’t sure she could just throw away her grandmother’s favorites. Some things she would keep, but most, of course, would have to be sold, donated, or tossed.

Beth poked her head into the bathroom, then they quickly headed upstairs to the second floor. “You’ll want to fix the elevator,” Beth said as she quickly scanned some of the rooms while Harper remained on the lookout for the cat and now the missing pistol. There were four large bedrooms in all, the two facing the lake separated by a long corridor to the bedrooms that overlooked the parking area and bridge.

“Man, we spent hours in here,” Beth said as she entered the room where Harper had stayed so many nights in the canopy bed with its matching curtains and full-length mirror. Now dust covered everything, turning the mint green coverlet dingy. “How I envied you.”

“Funny, I envied you. Being down at the point where all the action was.”

“Really? When you lived in a mansion? You remember my bedroom? It was about the size of this walk-in closet,” she said, stepping through the open doorway and snapping on the light. “The twins got the bigger one . . . oh God, what’s this?”

“What?” Harper hadn’t even been inside any of the closets yet.

“I think maybe these are Chase’s things?”

Harper had followed Beth into the closet and saw the letterman’s jacket hanging on an old wire hanger.