Chapter 5: The Plus-One

The founder of Larkin Outdoor lived on the lake in a house made mostly of windows.

She was sixty-six, with a silver braid down her back and a handshake that had hauled canoes.

"Felicity Fairbrother," she said. "The one with the comment cards."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Nobody else read them."

I liked her immediately, and that made the next ten minutes worse.

Twelve of us sat at a long table under a wall of glass, with the water going black outside.

Trevor had the seat beside the founder, and Courtney sat on his other side with her hand on his sleeve.

He saw the empty chair next to mine and smiled at it.

"No plus-one, Pipe?" he said, loud enough to turn heads. "I'm sorry. I really did hope."

The founder's eyebrows went up a quarter inch.

"He's parking," I said.

It came out before I had thought it through.

Trevor tilted his head.

"Who is?"

"My date."

"Right," he said. "Of course. He's parking."

Courtney covered a laugh with a napkin.

I picked up my water and drank half of it, trying to steady myself, and the clock on the wall said 8:06.

Salad came and went.

The founder asked me about the lake, and I answered with the first night, the rain on the tent, the quiet.

She put down her fork.

"Say that again."

I said it again.

Trevor interrupted me before the end.

"We've been over this, haven't we? Larkin's about the summit. It's in our name."

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