Tom Lake(52)

Nelson laughed. “There is no party, or there’s always a party, depending on how you look at it. People on farms love company. The more people showing up, the better.” Pallace walked right up to Nelson and kissed his cheek like they were best friends. She kissed our director, who, in his blue T--shirt and jeans, looked nothing like the person who’d been telling us where to stand and how to speak for more than a month now. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Nelson outside before.

Duke was making the slow rotation I had wanted to make the first day I came to Traverse City, and when he stopped he looked at Nelson. “I’m from Michigan,” he said.

“So am I,” Nelson said.

“But I’m not from this Michigan.”

Nelson nodded. “This is my uncle’s farm. I worked here in the summers when I was growing up. I took the bus here when school let out and then my parents would drive up from Grand Rapids at the end of the season and bring me home. As far as I was concerned, August fifteenth was the saddest day of the year.”

“I’ll bet it was.” Duke cast his gaze out over the cherry trees.

“It’s like Tom Lake,” Sebastian said, by which he meant we weren’t exactly driving over from Flint. We were trading beauty for beauty.

“I’ve got nothing but praise for Tom Lake,” Nelson said. “But it’s not like this.”

That was what Duke had meant. For all of Tom Lake’s splendor, this was superior by an order of magnitude. Nelson turned and led us up the stairs and into the house.



“Stop,” Emily says, raising up on her elbows. “Are you saying that Duke came to our house? You brought him to the house?”

“It wasn’t our house then but yes, he was here.”

“The happiest day of your life was the day Duke came to our house?”

“Maybe you could just shut up and listen to the story?” Maisie suggests.

“Why wouldn’t you have told me that?”

“Maybe,” Nell says, choosing her words judiciously, “you were a maniac who was in love with a movie star and Mom didn’t feel like throwing gasoline on it.”

“I wasn’t in love with Duke,” Emily says. “I thought he was my father.”

“Right. Your father. Forgive me.” Maisie pulls the towel over her face. “Please proceed.”

“None of you think she should have told us this before?”

Emily says, looking at the three of us in disbelief.

“I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have told you this now.” I wonder if the red in Emily’s cheeks is sunburn or rage.

“I just can’t believe—-”

“Please,” Nell shouts. “Please! Mom is about to go into our house for the very first time and it’s the happiest day of her life. Can this not be a story about you for two minutes?”

“The happiest day of the summer of 1988,” I remind her. “Not the happiest day of my life. Not by a long shot.”

“All I’m saying is that I think it would have helped me to know,” Emily says.

Beneath the towel Maisie shakes her head. “It would so not have helped you.”



The long oak table in the kitchen was set for four but Nelson’s aunt Maisie was already pulling more placemats out of the drawer. She was a tall woman with short, curly hair, an oversized laugh and oversized feet she housed in blue Keds. “It’s the first time we’ve ever had a movie star come to lunch,” she said. “You’ll just have to forgive me if I say anything stupid.”

For all the world it appeared she was looking at me. “Me?”

“A huge star,” Nelson said. “Once your movie comes out.”

“Joe can’t stop talking about how good you are,” his aunt Maisie said. “Joe says you’re the best actress he’s ever worked with, and you know he’s worked with a lot of good ones. We’re going to drive down on Thursday to see you. Opening night! And Uncle Wallace, I can’t believe we’re going to see Uncle Wallace.”

“Uncle Wallace is really something,” Duke said.

I held out my package to her and she looked so surprised. “You didn’t need to bring me anything,” Maisie said.

She put it down on the table and folded back the tissue.

Such a genuine pleasure lit her face. I could imagine that it had been a while since someone had brought her something so impractical and pretty. She ran her fingers over the cutwork. “Oh, Lara, will you look at these,” Maisie said quietly.



Maisie, look, the white canisters are still on the sink, the whole row of them including coffee and rice. I broke the sugar the year we moved into the house. My hands were wet when I picked it up and it slipped right through and smashed on the floor. I stood there crying and crying, until Joe told me it was just a canister and it didn’t matter. But they were yours. Everything was yours. I’d forgotten how small the kitchen was before we pushed out the back wall. You would have loved it the way it is now. I can stand at the sink and keep an eye out for Joe and make dinner and talk to the girls. There’s so much space. The first day I came to the house the kitchen was so small and we were all crowded in together. Look how beautiful we all were, Maisie. Can you believe it? Look how young.