She watched a sandpiper peck for worms in the silt along the shore and wondered if she would ever walk this route again. There was really no need unless you were going to the Sittenfields’, and although Jennifer was in a hurry to tell Jim that she had ended her relationship with Connor, she wanted to savour every step to draw out the summer just a little bit longer.
She felt a flurry of nerves as the Lake House grew closer. Marion had been right when she said it was a good feeling being in love. Jennifer felt an excitement that made her want to shout from the rooftops, and a reassuring sense that things had just fallen into place. But she could feel something else too. Fear. Anxiety. She’d made no proper plans with Jim that morning. They had both been too giddy to even think about any strategy beyond Jim changing his flight to a later date. Now there was a palpable sense of the unknown, but reminding herself how much she trusted Jim, she dismissed it.
She was by the boathouse now and could see a shadow moving inside. She smiled at the thought of Bryn Johnson working until the final moment he was due to leave for the airport, and didn’t blame him for wanting to soak up every last minute of the glorious view.
Picking up her pace, she almost tripped over a canoe that lay carelessly on the grassy slope leading to the water. Hoping that Jim hadn’t been gazing out of the window at that precise moment, she ran the rest of the way to the back door, knocking hard as she waited for someone to open it. There was no response.
‘They went into town,’ called a familiar baritone from behind her.
She spun around and saw Bryn Johnson watching her from the balcony of the boathouse.
Bryn’s voice might have been loud enough to cross the length of the Sittenfields’ back lawn, but Jennifer didn’t want to be rude and holler back. She put her hands in the pockets of her sundress and walked towards him.
‘Know when Jim will be home?’ she asked as she got closer.
She took a minute to observe him. His feet were bare and a white shirt fell loose over the waistband of his beige trousers. A suntan from the warm Savannah summer had brought out the blue of his eyes, and Jennifer found herself wondering if this was what Jim would look like in thirty years’ time.
Bryn shrugged. ‘Left a while ago with Elizabeth. They should be back any time. Better had be. We have to leave for the airport at six.’
Jennifer felt uneasy. It was obvious that Jim’s father still thought his son was flying to New York with them that evening, before their onward journey to London. But a voice in her head told her to trust Jim and dismiss his remark.
She looked back across the lake towards Casa D’Or, debating whether to hang around.
‘Come inside and have a drink while you wait,’ said Bryn, as if he were reading her thoughts. ‘You can tell me what you think of my opus.’
‘You don’t want my opinion,’ she laughed.
‘An arts graduate from Wellesley College? I’d say you’re better qualified than anyone to give me some feedback. So long as it’s not too critical, of course,’ he laughed.
She had always felt a little bit scared of Bryn Johnson. He was a formidable character, and now there was the added pressure that he was her boyfriend’s father, and she wanted to impress him. But Bryn seemed to be in an affable mood as he ushered her into the cabin.
‘Have you ever tried gin and tonic?’ he asked as Jennifer looked around.
She had never been in the boathouse before. It was small and sparsely furnished, with large glass windows that overlooked the water, although the blinds were down to keep it cool in the heat of the day. A desk displaying all the signs of creative chaos – strewn papers, coffee cups and a solitary typewriter – was pushed against one wall. A leather armchair sat in another corner next to a teetering pile of books and a drinks trolley, the whole scene in stark contrast to the groomed perfection of Casa D’Or.
Bryn picked up an almost empty bottle and examined it.
‘We should get a couple of measures out of this,’ he muttered as he poured them both a glass.
He handed one to Jennifer, who sniffed the unfamiliar liquor.
‘I guess you’re old enough to drink now,’ he said, leaning against the desk and lookin
g at her.
‘Being twenty-one?’ she smiled, tilting her head to one side.
He nodded and knocked back his tipple.
‘How’s the documentary? Jim told me about it. Said you’d taken some of my sugestions on board.’
‘Your idea of interviewing parents was fantastic. It’s really added another layer to the narrative.’
‘I only threw a few things out there. It’s your talent that will make it as good as it can be. Remember, when you’re ready, get in touch and I’ll show it to some contacts in New York.’
She sipped her gin and motioned towards the desk.
‘So how’s your book coming on? Is it finished?’