Summer at Willow Lake

“Oh.” The tone of Freddy’s voice indicated that he had spotted her. “Went through an awkward phase, did you?”

“I wouldn’t call it a phase, I’d call it my entire adolescence. And I wasn’t awkward. I was fat. The Coke-bottle glasses and braces were just kind of a bonus.”

Freddy let out a low whistle. “And look at you now. The ugly duckling became a swan.”

“The ugly duckling got contacts, went blond and did year-round intramural swimming in college. The ugly duckling worked for two years to get to her ideal weight. And you don’t have to be polite. I was horrible. I was an unhappy kid and I took it out on myself. Once I figured out how to be happy, everything got better.”

“Kids aren’t supposed to have to figure out how to be happy. They just are.”

“Some families are different,” she told him. “And that’s all I’m going to say about the Bellamys, so don’t bother to pry.”

“Ha. I’ve got you to myself the entire summer. I’ll learn all your secrets.”

“I have no secrets.”

“Bullshit. I think you’re keeping secrets even from yourself.”

“It’s going to be a real picnic, spending the summer with Dr. Freud.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing this project. And I’m glad Rand Whitney is history now.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice sharp with sarcasm. “That means a lot, coming from you, Freddy. You wanted me to fail.”

“Olivia. You set yourself up for failure every time. Ever wonder why that is?”

Ouch.

“You have a habit of picking the wrong guy,” he went on. “I think it’s because you wouldn’t know what to do if you actually found the right guy. You say you figured out how to be happy. Why don’t I believe that?” She didn’t want to discuss this. “I think Barkis needs a bathroom break.”

“No, he doesn’t. He just peed in Kingston. According to the map, we’re almost there. I’ll shut up, I promise.” True to his word, Freddy fell silent and went back to studying the photos. Olivia had already done so, poring over the old Kodachromes and black-and-white photographs in order to remind herself what the place used to look like. Fortunately, her grandmother kept a concise history of the camp, from its humble beginnings in the 1930s to its heyday in the late 1950s, which was the time period she wanted to replicate in honor of the golden anniversary. She hoped to evoke the simple pleasures of summers past, to make Camp Kioga look like the sort of place people used to go—or wish they had.

Freddy flipped the book shut. “Seeing you as a kid explains a little more about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a master of the art of transforming things. No wonder you’re so good at what you do.”

She’d certainly had plenty of practice. As a child, she had been obsessed with changing things—her room in her mother’s Fifth Avenue apartment, her locker at the Dalton School, even her cabin at Camp Kioga each summer. At camp, it was the one thing she was good at. One year, she’d raided a storeroom above the dining hall and found a stash of old linens. Her cabinmates had returned from a hike to find the bunks covered in handmade quilts, soft and faded with age. The windows were draped with calico curtains, the sills decked with freshly picked wildflowers in jelly jars.

“We’ll see how good,” she cautioned Freddy. “I’ve never staged an entire wilderness camp before.”

“Your grandmother gave you a big fat budget and the whole summer to get the job done. It’ll be an adventure in itself.”

“I hope you’re right. And thanks for agreeing to do this with me. You’re a godsend, Freddy.”

“Trust me, honey, I needed this gig,” he said with self-deprecating candor. “You’re going to need more than me on this renovation, though. Who are you going to use for labor?”

“My grandparents budgeted for a general contractor. We need to find someone as soon as possible. You’re going to meet a few more Bellamys, too. My closest cousin, Dare, is coming. So are my uncle Greg and my cousins Daisy and Max. Greg is a landscape architect, and he’ll be in charge of the grounds. He’s going through a rough spot in his marriage, so spending the summer up here might be good for him and his kids.”

“See, marriage is a bad idea,” Freddy said.

“So I shouldn’t even bother, is that what you’re saying?”

He ignored the question and went back to the photo collection. “What a place. The older pictures look more like a family reunion than summer camp.”

“Way, way back, before our time, the camp was for families,” she said. “Sometimes, it was the only time of year that relatives got together. The moms and kids would stay the entire time, and the dads would come up on the train every Friday. Weird, huh?”

“Maybe. I hear family retreats are coming back in vogue, though. You know, the overscheduled family in search of downtime together, yada yada yada.”

She glanced over at him. “You sound really taken with the idea.”

“Babe, I retreat from my family, not with them.”

“Whoa, where did that come from?” she said. “I didn’t realize you had issues with your family.”

“I have no issues. I have no family.”

She gritted her teeth. Though they’d been friends for years, he’d never told her about his family, except that they lived in Queens and hadn’t been in touch since he left home. “You’ve been poking and prodding at me for the past ninety miles, so now I get a turn.”

“Believe me, it’s not that interesting, unless you’re a huge Eugene O’Neill fan. Now, shut up. I need to navigate.”

Just before they reached the village of Avalon, the railroad-crossing barriers descended, and she put the car in Park as the local train took its time passing by.

“I used to take that train from the city to Avalon.” Olivia could still remember the noise and the excitement streaming through the passenger cars. Some of the more experienced campers would sing traditional songs or boast about past victories at archery or swimming or footraces. There would be nervous speculation about who would wind up in which cabin, because everyone knew that bunkmates could make or break the entire summer. When she was in the eight-to-elevens, she had looked forward to camp. She had three girl cousins in her age group, and the train ride and then van up the mountain was a magical journey into an enchanted world.

Everything changed the year her parents split up. She emerged awkwardly from the cocoon of childhood, no lithe butterfly, but a sullen, overweight preteen who distrusted the world.

The train passed by, the last car disappearing, and the curtain opened on the perfect mountain town of Avalon.

“Cute,” Freddy observed. “Is this place for real?”

Avalon was a classic Catskills village. It looked exactly the way tourists yearned for it to look—a world apart, separated from time itself by the railroad tracks on one side and a covered bridge on the other, with brick streets lined with shade trees, a town square with a courthouse in the middle and at least three church spires. It changed very little from year to year. She remembered Clark’s Variety Store and the Agway Feed & Hardware, Palmquist Jewelry and the Sky River Bakery, still owned by the Majesky family, according to the painted display window. There were gift shops with handmade crafts, and upscale boutiques. Restaurants and cafés with striped awnings and colorful window boxes lined the square. Antiques shops displayed spinning wheels and vintage quilts, and almost every establishment featured homemade maple syrup and apple cider for the tourists who came in the fall for the autumn colors.

In the backseat, Barkis woke up from a nap and stuck his nose out the window as they passed the picnic grounds by the Schuyler River. The most beautiful street in town was Maple Street, which boasted a collection of Carpenter Gothic homes from the Edwardian era, some displaying plaques from the National Historic Register.

“Very Age of Innocence,” Freddy declared. The pastel-painted houses had been converted to bed-and-breakfast inns, law offices, art galleries, a day spa. The last one on the street had a hand-painted sign: Davis Contracting and Construction.

“Olivia, watch out!” Freddy yelled.

She slammed on the brakes. In the backseat, Barkis scrambled to stay upright.

“It’s a four-way stop,” Freddy said. “Take it easy.”

“Sorry. I missed the sign.” Just the sight of the name Davis left her shaken.

Get a grip, she told herself. There are a zillion Davises in the world. Surely the construction firm wasn’t … No way, she thought. That would just be too crazy.

“I’m taking down the number of that construction firm,” Freddy said, oblivious.