Weston spent most of the day helping his mother, too, but as it got closer to dinnertime, everyone was outside, tasting one another’s finger foods while chatting about how often they had to water their lawns.
The summer was particularly scorching, and since the City of Blackwell had mandated a citywide water restriction, the grass was already beginning to turn a golden brown. Living in a Southern state where triple digits weren’t uncommon for that time of year, I remembered hearing about those mandates before. Complaints about the effects of the water shortage on the lawns hadn’t been a topic of conversation at Gina’s, and it seemed odd to me.
“Holy crap, it’s hot,” Weston said, grabbing me as he jogged by.
His hairline was soaked with sweat, his cheeks bright red against his bronzed skin. A pair of aviator sunglasses covered his beautiful green eyes. That was the only thing I didn’t like about summer.
Weston hadn’t looked Caucasian since a week after graduation, and my pale skin was working on its fourth sunburn of the year.
“Don’t forget the sunscreen,” Julianne said as she passed by, handing me a spray bottle of SPF 70.
I frowned. Her olive skin was a glorious shade, too. Sam, however, was rubbing a thick white sunblock onto his nose, and he wore a wide-brimmed Panama-style hat.
This is his fault.
“Erin!” Julianne called. “Erin, come meet Mrs. Schrimshire!”
I made a face, and Weston patted me once on the back.
“I try to like parties. I really do,” I said before leaving Weston.
I went to greet Julianne and a woman who was old enough not to have any business being in the direct sun. I picked up a plastic cup full of ice water on the way.
“You are just adorable!” Mrs. Schrimshire said with a smile that nearly showed all her dentures.
I handed her the cup. “Here,” I said, sounding awkward instead of polite. “It’s hot.”
Mrs. Schrimshire chuckled and grabbed the cup from my hand before taking a shaky sip. “What a good girl you have here.”
“We sure do,” Julianne said, beaming with pride. “Erin, Mrs. Schrimshire has lived in this neighborhood the longest. Her husband was an attorney here in town. The Gates took over his firm.”
“I sure miss your other Erin. How are you holding up, honey?” Mrs. Schrimshire asked, touching Julianne’s arm.
Julianne smiled. “I miss her, too.”
“Must be so odd…to be so happy to have your daughter back and to also miss the one you raised.”
“It is,” Julianne said, handling the uncomfortable conversation like a pro.
“It is so nice to meet you,” I said, trying a polite smile.
Julianne winked at me.
“Ribs are ready!” Sam yelled from our yard.
Half the street migrated toward the smoker, and Julianne gestured for me to follow.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m terrible at this.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re doing just fine, and you look fantastic.”
Julianne scanned me from my side braid to the white sundress and navy sandals. She’d bought the dress and helped me choose what shoes to wear.
“Can you come with me to college and help me choose the right outfits?”
“You wear sweats to class in college. And no makeup. Try not to shower either. They look down on you for that,” she said, only half-joking.
“Oh, thank God,” I said, helping her serve the plates Sam had quickly filled with meat.
Weston appeared next to me. “The Johnsons have a pool,” he said, tugging on me.
“Don’t you dare!” Julianne shrieked. “It took her forever to get her braid just right, and she doesn’t want to look like a river rat before the fireworks!” She looked to me. “Or do you?”
I shook my head.
Julianne playfully narrowed her eyes at Weston. “The neighborhood brats all jump into the pool at once.” She poked him with a plastic fork. “Don’t think I don’t know.”
Weston chuckled. “Fine. C’mon, babe, let’s find some shade until sunset.”
“Lawn chairs are in the garage,” Julianne called after us.
Weston grabbed two folded chairs and set them in the shade created by the house. While the sun sizzled on the street, the neighbors ate and chatted under the trees, and the younger kids—who were impervious to the miserable heat—chased each other and threw tiny balls of tissue that would snap when they hit the ground.
“I can see now how deprived I’ve been,” I said, watching the kids yelp each time a ball of tissue hit their feet.
“Do you really mean it?” Weston asked.
I wanted to hold his hand, but my palms were sweaty, and I imagined his were, too.
“No.”
“I think about it a lot.”
“What I’ve missed?”
“I wonder how different you would be if you had grown up with your real parents.”
“You think I would have acted like Alder?”
He shook his head. “No. I bet you would be the same. Maybe a little more relaxed in social situations…” He trailed off, laughing.
“I can’t argue with that,” I said.
Weston held a plastic bottle in front of me, and I smiled as I took it from his hand.
“Straight from the cooler,” Weston said, proud.
“When I think back on this summer, my memories will consist of the back of your pickup, the overpass, heat that makes my face melt off, and Fanta Orange.”
“We’ll make other memories, too,” Weston said. “I noticed there are a bunch of broken-down boxes in the garage.”
“Yes. I’m not sure what they think I’ll fill them with.”
“All the stuff your crazy mother has bought you. Mom said Julianne has filled the entire guest room with dorm stuff.”
I nodded. “A memory foam egg crate for the bed, cutlery, and homemade completely organic cleaners. That’s pretty much all.”
“That can’t be all! Mom said there’s an entire roomful of stuff!”
“Towels. Lysol. A furry throw or two from Pottery Barn.”
“A throw?” He smirked. “That’s just excessive.”
I laughed out loud. “Why is your mom snooping in Julianne’s guest room? That’s weird.”