Page 3 of Summer on Lilac Island

from the engines were disturbing their horses. Only in a place like Mackinac would that kind of law stick all these years.

The sun was already up, soft morning rays kneading knots out of the water like a set of supple hands.

“Having Georgiana and me in the same house all summer, I mean,” Eloise clarified.

It had sounded fine in the abstract. Very nice even, the idea of her drifter daughter home again. How many times over the

past decade had Eloise wished that Georgiana might return to the island for more than a fleeting visit? But as the arrival

approached, Eloise had become increasingly tense. Sweat formed now on the rim of her visor.

“It’ll be terrific,” Deirdre assured. “Nothing like some quality mother-daughter bonding time.”

“Says the woman with two sons,” Eloise muttered, making Deirdre scowl. “Georgiana and I could still bond from separate houses.

Lord knows that’s been the secret to keeping the peace with my own mother.”

Since the passing of Eloise’s father seven years ago, Eloise had offered for her mother, Alice, to move in with her.

She lived just down the road, after all.

But her mother refused, which was a blessing for them both.

Alice insisted on remaining in the cabin Eloise’s father had built with his own two hands, or so the legend went.

Alice continued brewing coffee the way he liked it every morning—very black, very strong—pouring it in his favorite Detroit Lions mug, the colors long faded, then drinking it herself, though she preferred tea.

“It’ll be an adventure,” Deirdre said, pumping her arms vigorously, clutching two-pound dumbbells as weapons to defend against

osteoporosis, the latest menopausal calamity coming their way. “Adventures keep the mind young, ward off dementia. Fred says

so.”

Fred was Deirdre’s husband and the island’s general practitioner, meaning Deirdre was too versed on medical ailments. Eloise

usually took her friend’s warnings with a grain of salt, but the bone density lecture had scared her enough that she had started

to increase her milk intake and switch to decaf a few days a week. No dumbbells, though. Eloise got enough weight-bearing

exercise from the tasks associated with keeping up a house. Lugging salt bags to the water softener. Hauling groceries, rearranging

furniture, changing lightbulbs, then doing those tasks again for her mother. Deirdre was always offering up Fred, as if he

were a carton of eggs or a library book—something useful to borrow—but Eloise’s pride was a hard wall to fell. She managed

on her own, and until recently she’d had Rebecca helping her.

“It’s perfect timing that Georgiana is coming home,” Deirdre went on. “You’ve been in a slump since Rebecca’s betrayal. Understandably,

of course.”

Eloise jutted out her pointy chin, becoming one with the cliffside. “I’m not in a slump, and it wasn’t a betrayal,” she said,

though it did feel that way. “Rebecca got married and moved a couple hours away. It’s the circle of life.”

They passed beneath Arch Rock, the island’s most famous sandstone formation, perched up on the bluffs.

The story went that when the Ottawa tribe lived here, their Master of Life was angered by the actions of one of the chiefs and in retaliation sent a blazing red sun toward the island.

It burned a hole in the rock, forming an arch.

Eloise didn’t believe in those sorts of myths, but she liked their familiarity nonetheless, their timeworn texture.

Lake Huron stretched before them. No land in sight on the horizon, just the endless lull of the lake. Even after living here

her whole life, Eloise sometimes still forgot it wasn’t an ocean.

“Rebecca promised she’d always stay on the island, though,” Deirdre reminded, as if Eloise might have forgotten. As if she

hadn’t cradled Rebecca’s words, rocked them against her chest as proof that her family hadn’t shattered just because her husband

had left and her father had died and Georgiana had gone flitting about the country.

“That was before she met Tom,” Eloise said. “He’s doing well at his financial firm in Traverse City. It makes more sense for

them to live there. It’s nothing personal.” Though it did feel personal, the abrupt uprooting of the daughter she’d thought

would always stay close.

“Nothing personal,” Deirdre repeated, huffing. “That’s what Kimberly said when she told me I had to start calling before coming

over to see my own grandsons.” She put on a voice, something high and shrill, to imitate her daughter-in-law. “‘It’s nothing

personal—we just like to be able to plan our family time around your visits,’” Deirdre quoted. “As if I’m not family. As if I’m somehow an intruder. It’s an abomination, that’s what.” She punched her weights, punctuating the rant.

Deirdre was petite, not much above five feet tall, her edges soft and fleshy. But what she lacked in physical stature she

made up for in presence. No one walked away from an encounter with Deirdre Moore thinking her a small woman.

“At least you have grandchildren,” Eloise said. “Rebecca and Tom just got a dog, did I tell you? This ugly little thing, looks like a giant

rat. Rebecca tried to tell me it was my ‘grand-dog-ter.’ Can you believe it?”

“After all we’ve done for our children,” Deirdre fumed. “I knew Mikey was a lost cause, down in Grand Rapids, caught up in

that crowd of bachelors .” She said it as if she were talking about drug dealers. “But I didn’t expect this from Joshua. Kimberly corrupted him, getting them to move to the north side of the island, three whole miles from me.”

“Very unfair,” Eloise said, thinking how she would kill to have Rebecca so close.

The two lanes of M-185 became Main Street near Mission Point Resort. Formerly Mackinac College, it was now a smaller, more

affordable alternative to the Grand Hotel. White Adirondack chairs dotted the lakeside lawn. Guests were breakfasting at the

farm-to-ferry restaurant. Eloise rarely went out to eat—it was a waste of money—but something about seeing the diners this

morning made her crave a change of pace. She was growing tired of her practiced routine, growing lonely at her kitchen table

set for one.

Georgiana’s presence this summer would certainly shake things up, and Eloise was looking forward to it on the whole.

Bicycles whizzed by. It was Mayor Welsh and her overly competitive posse. “Morning, girls!” Camille called out. “I would stop

and talk, but we’re training for our charity ride. One hundred miles!”

“I had no idea she was training for something,” Deirdre said to Eloise once the group had passed, Pastor Kevin bringing up

the rear. It was all the mayor had been talking about for months.

“First I’ve heard of it,” Eloise replied dryly. “Five miles, did she say?”

Farther down, the heart of town unfurled slowly with quaint bed-and-breakfasts, lakeside condos, and the public marina at

Haldimand Bay. Across the street, Marquette Park sprawled at the base of Fort Mackinac, with Doud’s Market on the corner,

the unofficial gateway into the Main Street hubbub. Old Mr. Doud was directing delivery boys on how to stack milk crates.

“Hi there, Mr. Doud,” Eloise called out. He waved back.

“Hilarious, isn’t it?” Deirdre commented after they passed. “How we qualify for the senior discount at his store and we’re

still calling him Mr. Doud.”

“I prefer it,” Eloise said. “Makes me feel like adults are in control.”

They snickered.

The first ferry of the day was dumping tourists into scraps of early-morning scenes. Dockhands setting up for the day. Fudge

shop workers stirring silky batches, treacly scents seeping into the streets. Horses getting hitched to buggies, hooves scraping

the pavement.

Early morning was the only time of day that Eloise tolerated coming downtown in the summer months.

“There’s Georgiana’s competition,” Deirdre hissed. She pointed across the street to the Chippewa Hotel. The popular Pink Pony

restaurant, owned by the Tongs, was located inside, with the gift shop next door. “You would think Lillian might take some

time before diving back into dating, but her sights seem set on Dr. Kentwood.”

Lillian was the Tongs’ only child, Georgiana’s age. She was beautiful and brilliant, universally liked. “Lillian isn’t competition,”

Eloise said. “This isn’t middle school.”

“Exactly. The stakes are higher now,” Deirdre said. “They’re not just vying for dates to school dances anymore. They’re contending

for a husband. Hold these, will you?” Deirdre passed her dumbbells to Eloise. “My arms are giving out on me. My whole body

is, really. If it weren’t for the marriage plot we’re hatching, I’d need Fred to prescribe some antidepressants.”

Eloise’s conscience prickled. “Can we not call it that?” she asked. “It’s not really a plot.”

Deirdre’s honeycomb eyes were bright beneath a thick coat of mascara. Deirdre always applied a full face of makeup before

leaving the house, no exceptions. It had long been a marvel to Eloise, a habit she’d aspired to imitate since they were teenagers.

Upon turning fifty, she’d finally relinquished the goal, sticking to her trusty sunscreen and Chapstick routine, making peace

with the fact that she’d never be a beauty icon. There was a great relief to it, surrendering to the idea of what might be,

what could be. And a sadness too, collecting like sediment.

“You’re right, plot is too boring a word, isn’t it?” Deirdre said. “This isn’t a book club. A ploy, shall we call it? A ruse? A machination?”

Eloise didn’t like where this was going. The horror, the disgust that would be on Georgiana’s face if she heard them now.

She’d cancel her plans to stay for the summer and go join her father on his latest motorcycle trip instead. “None of that,”

Eloise said. “It’s an introduction, that’s all.”

“Scheme!” Deirdre exclaimed. “A suitor scheme. Yes, that’s it. The alliteration rolls off the tongue. I have to say, if Dr.