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David leans toward me. “It’s one of our many lake traditions,” he explains. “We always kick off vacation by toasting with Erika’s famous specialty drink, the Lake Escape, served only on the first night. She invented it in the Shack.” I can hear the nostalgia in his voice. There’s a story here.

“The Shack?” I ask.

“It’s a one-room clubhouse we found in the woods,” he explains.

“Someone built it before our time, but left it abandoned, so we took it over when we were teenagers. It was pretty run-down, but we didn’t care.

It was a good place to party. And to make up drinks like the Lake Escape, thanks to the booze we snuck from our parents’ liquor cabinets.

Turned out rum, peach schnapps, a hearty splash of blue curacao, and Sprite made quite the cocktail.

” His face lights up as he smiles at his youthful indiscretions.

“I haven’t been there in ages—don’t even know if the Shack is still standing.

” He pauses. His excited look returns. “Maybe I’ll take you and the kids on an adventure to see what’s left of it,” he says.

“They’ll think it’s awesome. Should be easy enough to find.

It’s down the road, a half mile tops. There’s a path that leads to it, near an old knotted oak tree. ”

“Sounds great,” I say.

“But no drinking—you’re on the job.” He laughs at his own lame joke, then brightens some more. “There is a nonalcoholic blue punch version of the Lake Escape if you want to try it.”

Considering that the drink reminds me of something radioactive, I pass. Though I notice that Erika fills Christian’s cup from the nonalcoholic pitcher David had offered me.

Interesting.

The frosty dynamic between Taylor and Lucas hasn’t thawed with or without the booze. I haven’t seen Taylor drinking, but surprisingly Erika has no qualms serving her son from the alcoholic pitcher. He drinks it greedily before going for a refill.

“Stop trying to be the cool mom,” Rick scolds.

“It’s better if you know what they’re drinking and where,” Erika bites back.

Interesting as well. I haven’t been here long, but I can already tell there are three couples and three sets of problems, with a big glass house in the center of it all.

I redirect my focus to Lucas. He arrived carrying a guitar. With his long hair and band T-shirt, I’m thinking he’s a rocker with a burgeoning substance abuse problem. Unfortunately, that’s my kind of guy. He certainly gives off warning signs like they’re pheromones. Be still, my heart.

Taylor stays close to her parents, sullen and disengaged. We haven’t had time to talk since she overheard Fiona scolding me. I’m curious to know more about her and her obvious discomfort with Rocker Boy.

I can certainly see how he’d get to her.

He’s captivating. Given his brooding intensity, I’ll bet anything he’s a songwriter.

What I know for sure is, if I wasn’t working, I’d be following him around like a drooling groupie.

I might be in college, but I’m only a year older, so age isn’t a big factor.

Even so, I know it’s wise to keep my distance.

Something tells me Taylor is exhibiting signs of a recent breakup: gloomy, removed, and detached.

I wonder if she’s nursing a broken heart and Lucas is the cause.

When I get a moment away from the twins, I’ll reach out to see if she needs someone to talk to.

She was kind enough to offer me a safe haven from Fiona, so I should return the gesture.

But first we gather around the stone firepit, our faces strangely lit by the flickering flames.

“Cheers, everyone,” says Erika, hoisting her drink high. All join in, even Taylor, who can’t seem to find her smile.

Becca and Brody are essentially glued to my leg, each with a juice box in hand. They’re both dirty and smell like smoke. They’ll need baths, I suppose. I can only imagine how that will go. Washing cats might be easier.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to be together again,” Erika continues.

Her hair is the color of the fire, and her eyes sparkle.

“I’m so grateful to be here with my best friends.

I know our lives are busier than ever, but I think it’s wonderful that we still prioritize one another and our lake vacation.

I know my father would be happy that we’re here together.

I can’t believe he’s been gone seven years now.

” Erika pauses as she raises her glass higher toward the heavens.

“Cheers to Cormac—I miss you, Dad—and cheers to lifelong friendships.”

I don’t want to break the solemnity of the moment, but Brody is bouncing on his heels and I’m certain he needs to pee. I alert David, who nods, and off I go, back to the house, both kids in tow.

When we return, the scene has shifted, with everyone gathered at the lakeshore.

The air has taken on a tension that wasn’t there before.

As I near the water’s edge, I see three Roman candles buried in the sand.

Christian and Julia stand by one; Erika, Rick, and Lucas by another; and David and Fiona are at the third.

Taylor keeps her distance, earning a frustrated look from her mother.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Julia encourages. “It’s tradition. The youngest in each family lights the candle.”

“They have to be old enough to use a lighter,” David says for my benefit. “We’re not letting the twins play with fire anytime soon.”

I cringe inwardly, hoping he didn’t see Brody with his burning marshmallow.

Tradition or not, Taylor isn’t budging. She’s dug her feet in the sand, more like a stubborn child than a senior in high school. If her mother paid closer attention, she’d know it was a statement, probably in protest of Lucas.

I’m now certain there was a romance between these two, and someone got hurt, but it doesn’t seem like Lucas is pining.

He’s that guy—the one with the sexy hair, slender torso, pale jeans that hug his hips just so, eyes cool like moonbeams, a mouth meant for kissing, someone with a touch of the bad boy who could draw you in, spin you around, and leave you breathless and dizzy.

Eventually Julia gives up and lights the candle herself, while Lucas and Fiona do the same. They step back a safe distance as the cardboard tubes spit out colored orbs that arc high into the night sky. The fireworks cast a brilliant light over the smooth water before extinguishing on contact.

I watch the fireballs disappear, one by one. But it’s strange. This ritual that’s meant to symbolize the exciting start of a summer vacation leaves me feeling like something has come to an end.