At the Water's Edge Read Online Free PDF Page B

take long.” My eyes follow her as she struts back inside with a light sway of her hips.
    Friendship , I repeat over and over in my head. Friendship is good, anything more will distract me from the reason I came here.
    Five minutes later Kay deposits a large plate of scrambled eggs in front of me, flanked by two slices of dark rye bread.
    “Gosh,” I murmur. “Are we sharing?”
    “Nope.” She sits opposite me, cradling a mug of coffee in her hands. “What have you been eating since you arrived?”
    The eggs are delicious, creamy but not too runny, with just the right amount of seasoning, leaving a hint of something spicy on my tongue. “Oh my god,” I exclaim, ignoring her question. “You’re a domestic goddess.”
    “I know how to make eggs.” Her tone is flat, but her eyes sparkle.
    My hangover retreats as I wolf down the eggs. “I’m not much of a cook. No one in my family is, really. Although Mom seems to be into baking cakes lately.”
    “Will you come out with me tonight?”
    The piece of bread I’m chewing gets stuck in my throat. I cough to loosen it and swallow slowly to hide my shock. “What?”
    “I don’t mean out-out . It’s just that, after the conversation we had last night, I feel it’s my duty to take you on a tour of Northville’s finer spots.”
    Both disappointment and relief surge inside me. I draw my lips into a pensive pout.
    “I don’t mean a bar crawl, Ella. Just a drive in my truck. A few stops along the way. I know just where to go to make you fall in love with this place all over again.”
    “How can I say no after you fed me eggs like that?” All the worry I carried for years seems to slip off me for that instant.
    “That’s what I figured.” She cocks her head. “Nostalgia, here we come.”
    “Look, Kay, about the things I said last night…” She doesn’t interrupt, just stares at me with an amused smile on her lips. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive in any way. If anyone should understand, it’s me. I, uh—” I had truly expected her to interrupt me at this point, what with her take-no-prisoners attitude, but she lets me talk freely—lets me get stuck in my own train of thought. “I didn’t mean to imply anything or claim that one way of life is better than the other.”
    “Are you done?” She lets her eyes slide from my face to the empty plate in front of me. “I mean with your food. I know you’ll never be done saying sorry, so you can just go on while I take these dishes into the kitchen.” She stands and leans over the table. “No offense, Little Ella, but I’m truly not interested in your millions of excuses for everything.”
    Flabbergasted, I watch her saunter off again. Through the open door, I hear dishes clatter into the sink. For someone who grew up finding an explanation for every little action I undertook, Kay’s approach is wildly refreshing.
    “Shall we meet at six?” She reappears in the doorway. “No need to dress up.”
    * * *
    Kay’s driving style mirrors her personality: calm, confident, relaxed. She has one elbow propped out of the open car window, while her other hand rests on the steering wheel. We zip through the streets of Northville, mostly lined by houses just like the one I grew up in—the same place where my parents have lived for more than fifty years.
    “Well, I surely wasn’t expecting that.” I give her a smirk when she pulls up alongside the woods skirting the edge of town.
    “Just wait.” From the backseat, Kay unearths a tote bag, the neck of a wine bottle peeking through its opening.
    In this light—dying, the sun low—the woods have a dream-like quality, as if anything could happen. The air is cooler and damper between the trees. Kay leads the way to the clearing where I expect she’ll stop. Only, she doesn’t. She takes a left at the picnic bench where every inhabitant of Northville must have enjoyed an alfresco lunch at some point in their lives.
    Next thing I know, I’m climbing a steep