Page 50 of It Happened on the Lake

“Trust me, something was going on there. Free love. That sort of thing. And they were dropping acid, smoking pot, and I think, or I heard, using peyote. Brought up by one of their roommates, a kid from Texas.”

“They were students.”

“If you say so,” Beth said, lifting a shoulder as a fly buzzed around her head. “Get out of here,” she muttered, swatting at it. “Where’s a spider when you need one?”

“Oh, I think we have our share.” The corners of the garage were draped in cobwebs and spiders’ nests.

The fly got the hint and buzzed off to crawl around the edge of a window.

Beth focused on the conversation again. “I don’t think all of the kids that lived in the Musgraves’ house were going to college, or at least not full time.”

“You know this, how?” Harper asked, though it didn’t really matter, and she was ready to end this tour.

“Chase told me.”

“Chase?” Harper tensed, just as she always did when she thought of Chase, which, before she returned to the island had been less and less over the years.

But now that she was back in this house, the memory of the night he went missing, the night Gram died, seemed ever-present, exacerbated by the tragedy of Cynthia Hunt’s hellish death. “When did Chase tell you that?”

“I don’t know. It’s been so long . . .” Beth thought for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the Corvette’s windshield.

“A week, maybe two, before he vanished.” She cleared her throat as if in so doing she could rid her mind of the memories of Chase and that awful night.

Then she quickly changed the subject. “So these classic cars and the bike. Would you be interested in selling them?”

“I don’t know. I just haven’t got that far yet.”

Yes! Damn it! The answer is “yes.” Why can’t you just admit it? You need to sell this place, Harper, and everything in it. Get away A.S.A.P. Before the past swallows you, or what’s left of you. Somehow, she found her voice. “I’ll think about it. So, do you want to see the rest of the house?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got to make it quick. I’ve got that showing.”

Good.

Harper gave her a quick tour of the apartment in the garret over the garage. It was connected to the second floor of the house through a door that was now locked, the other access being an outdoor staircase running up the side of the garage.

“Now this is great,” Beth said, eyeing the interior with its sloped ceilings and paned windows. Decades before it had been retrofitted with a kitchenette and a small, private bath. “It would be a nice mother-in-law space or maybe for a college kid, or even as a rental unit.”

“I guess.”

“I think Craig lived here for a while. Didn’t he? After his mom and dad split up?” She bit her lip and looked around. “Yeah, I remember. For sure he did.”

Harper nodded. “Uh-huh,” she said and recalled how uncomfortable it had all felt.

Not at first, but as she’d grown from a gawky tomboy into a teenager with curves she had caught him watching her as she sunbathed.

He’d helped his dad with yard work, trimming the grass and shrubbery, washing the cars, or cleaning out the gutters, whatever odd job was needed.

But more than once he’d set down his gloves and shears to stare at her as she lay on the dock while she rifled through copies of Seventeen or Teen magazine.

She also perused True Confessions , which her grandmother deemed inappropriate—which, of course, made reading the taboo copies all the more exciting.

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. If I 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.

Her heart clutched.

She’d forgotten.

On a shelf was a small album filled with Polaroid pictures.

Next to it was a broken jewelry box that her grandmother had given her one Christmas.

Tentatively she opened it and saw several forgotten necklaces, their tiny links twisted and knotted together, alongside two bracelets and Chase’s class ring.

“Oh.” She felt a tug on her heart as she picked up the ring and remembered the hot July night Chase had given it to her, the summer before he’d taken off for college.

They’d been on the lake, in his parents’ boat, insects humming, the moonlight from a half moon glistening on the water.

“Oh, Geez,” Beth said as Harper turned the ring over to where dental floss covered with nail polish had been wound so that it would fit on her smaller finger. “What’re you going to do with this stuff? It has to be cleaned out of here, if you’re going—”

“I know. If I’m going to sell.” Then she took a deep breath and ignored the dull ache in her heart. “And even if I’m not.” She returned the ring to the jewelry box and then opened a little compartment where another necklace lay, the large diamond winking bright.

“What’s that?” Beth asked, picking it up. “Oh my God. This looks valuable. Is it real? Well, of course it is, if it belonged to your family.”

“It’s an heirloom.”

“From your grandmother? Good Lord, if this stone is real, it’s worth a small fortune and needs to be locked in a safe somewhere. It’s amazing that it’s still here.”

“No, um, not Gram’s. Chase gave it to me,” Harper said as she replaced the necklace in the jewelry case.

“From Chase? Really?”

“I know.” But she didn’t elaborate, remembering that when Chase had given the necklace to her, he’d sworn that he would have the stone fitted into an engagement ring.

Her throat turned dry at the thought, and she remembered him kissing her temple softly and telling her he loved her for the first time before placing the fine chain around her neck and slowly untying the shoulder straps of her sundress.

Swallowing hard, she pushed aside the memory. “I guess I’ll talk to Levi,” she said, over the nostalgic lump in her throat.

Because there was no one else.