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to get to the other side of the lake.
    I wasn’t thrilled about the winding roads to the marina, but I decided on the lake instead of a visit to the cemetery. It sounded like a good way for us to spend the day.
    I asked, “Would you mind drawing me a map to the marina then? We just want to spend some time on the lake today.”
    â€œWell, if you don’t want to rent a boat or anything you don’t need to go all the way to the marina. You’re welcome to just use our dock. We have a path straight down to the water and a floating dock on the lake. It’s only three blocks away. It’s on a nice quiet cove for swimming.”
    The inn should have mentioned in their materials that they have a waterfront dock. I had no idea the lake was within walking distance. The valet boy’s name was Graham, and he gave us directions to the path down to the lake. He seemed to be a sweet kid who was clearly trying to get Logan’s attention. In the few minutes we stood there talking to him he had managed to share with us that he was going to be a junior in the fall, he dropped hints about his football and baseball prowess, and then mentioned that he was hoping to go to Johns Hopkins for college.
    Logan and I went to our room to gather our bathing suits and some gear for a nice day on the lake. And then I waited while Logan reapplied her makeup.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I asked.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhy are you putting on eyeliner to go swimming?”
    She was ignoring me. “Graham seems really nice. He’s totally cute. Didn’t you think he was cute?”
    Well played, Graham, your plan is working. I sort of missed the days when it was just that easy.

THREE
    Logan and I walked down the ancient broken sidewalk in the direction of the lake. There were a few old oak trees whose roots had jumped the man-made confines and were spilling out over the edges of the concrete. The little bungalows on both sides of the street were well kept. There were a lot of additions, new roofs, and new second stories. There were flowers in bloom everywhere making the entire block look like an ad out of a real estate brochure. In the distance to the west you could see the blue tinge of the mountain range. The Appalachians were old and gentle mountains. Worn down through time in a way that was emphasized by their blue mist.
    The directions Graham had given us led down a pathway between two houses and across a wide back lawn. I felt like a kid cutting across the neighbor’s yard. They probably got a lot of traffic through there from guests of the inn but you’d never know it to look at the grass. It was lush and thick and meticulously edged. A gravel path, lined on both sides with rough-cut granite stones, took us through the stand of trees. Then after climbing down a small flight of wooden steps we were on the banks of Lake Huntley.
    It was a calm, clear lake. The ragged edges I had seen on the map made more sense down here on the water. The landscape was hilly and rugged with the water filling in the low spots. It looked as if the rains had come one day filling up the basin in the valley and allowing the water to slowly climb up the mountains. The endless fingers snaking off the main body of the lake made up these coves. There was a shadow on this side of the lake, cast from the rise on the opposite bank.
    Looking across the lake there were several islands jutting up out of the water here and there. Each one had blue-green water lapping up to a thin strip of red Georgia clay, which was then topped by a mass of green trees, mostly pine and bald cypress.
    We walked out onto the floating dock and sat in some of the old Adirondack chairs facing the water. The surface was alive with skimming water bugs and swooping dragonflies. The sound of birds singing was everywhere.
    This particular narrow cove in the lake had houses backing up to the water on both sides. All of them had some form of stairway down to the