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girls doing the things I had done. Done and yes, enjoyed very much. That in itself was one of the most profoundly difficult realities about being a mother: reconciling the old self with the mother-self. The sexless, dull, rule-spouting mother I had most surely become. The worst part was, I’d give my front teeth to go back the old me, at least for a weekend.
    â€œCan I get this without cheese?” a man at my elbow asked, pulling me from my wool-gathering. It was bright and sunny on the porch, with little wind, and Flickertail Lake was gleaming like a polished blue agate under the radiance.
    â€œFor sure,” I told him, transferring the pitcher of iced tea to my left hand and collecting his plate. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œNothing doing, honey,” he said, catching up his beer and returning to a story in progress at his table. I headed for the kitchen, using my rear to open the outer door, and eased through the throng of people up to the ticket window.
    â€œRich!” I called, clacking the fish sandwich onto the high metal counter. “I need a number five, no cheese!”
    â€œComing right up,” someone said, and I started slightly as Rich’s grandson Blythe appeared from around the corner and into my line of sight. He was so tall he had to duck to meet my eyes. My heart began pounding my breastbone like a fist, and I found myself momentarily tongue-tied. How humiliating.
    â€œThanks,” I finally managed.
    â€œBusy out there,” he observed, taking the plate and turning to the grill while I remained frozen to the spot, unable to tear my gaze away. Holy hell, he was good-looking. Because his back was to me, I studied him longer than prudent, taking in his faded jeans, worn almost smooth over the back pockets. His hair was probably almost as long as mine when undone; currently it was tied low on his nape with a piece of twine. The bandana was still wrapped around his forehead, though he’d shaved since last night. His shoulders were so wide under the sky-blue Shore Leave t-shirt that a yardstick wouldn’t be enough to measure them. The pale color of the material allowed for the play of his muscles across his back. I bit the insides of my cheeks, hard.
    â€œJo, two top at ten!” Mom yelled over the din as she walked a couple out to the porch.
    I refocused with effort. Joelle , I groaned to myself. You are pathetic right now. Beyond pathetic.
    â€œComing!” I called, and turned away abruptly, almost crashing into Camille as she refilled two sodas at the drink stand.
    â€œHi, Mom,” she said.
    â€œHi, love,” I replied. “You hanging in there?”
    â€œYeah, it’s fun,” she responded enthusiastically. Her gaze suddenly darted over my right shoulder and instantly her cheeks heated. I didn’t have to turn around to know that Blythe was back in the window.
    â€œNumber five, Joelle,” his deep voice announced.
    I turned, acting indifferent, and said, “Thanks,” for the second time. I didn’t mean to meet his eyes--it was a complete accident. Our gazes collided for a moment…how could he look at me so knowingly? I grabbed the new sandwich and turned away, my heart galloping as though we’d been caught making out.
    ***
    By nine that evening I’d earned over seventy dollars in tips. Jilly, Camille and I sat at table one, rolling silverware for tomorrow, with Camille gloating that she’d also pocketed quite a bit of change. Clint, Tish and Ruthann had all gone out in the paddleboat; Mom and Aunt Ellen were chatting with Rich out on the porch, enjoying after-dinner smokes. Gran was snoozing, Dodge had long since headed home, and Blythe was…I tried to pretend I didn’t have the slightest notion that he was back in the kitchen, brushing down the grill and getting a last load of dishes washed.
    â€œWhat a pretty sunset,” Camille observed, nodding her head at the windows.
    â€œYou can