The Inn at Lake Devine Part 25

"Services," said one of the Lupows, "and Oneg Shabbat and a dance tomorrow night."

"What was the name of your summer camp?" I asked.

"Applegate," they said in Nelson's direction.

"So it must have been a co-ed camp if they're having a dance," I said.

"Across the lake. Miriam. The sister camp."

"Is it a joint reunion?" asked Nelson.

The brothers said, "Yuh."

"Why did you pick the Halseeyon?" asked Kris.

The brothers shrugged.

"They must've given you a decent group rate," Kris said.

"Lower than a group rate," said one.

"How did that work out?" Kris asked.

"The owner," said another.

"What about the owner?" asked Nelson.

"His daughter," said one.

"Linette?" I asked.

"Went to Camp Miriam," said the other.

We skipped services and drove to a townie bar in downtown Monticello. Kris and Nelson ordered beers; I had, after several cups of Manischewitz Concord Grape with dinner, a gla.s.s of Tab. We hadn't discussed Linette in front of the Lupow brothers, and Nelson didn't seem to be grasping Shabbat etiquette. "I feel a little weird," he said. "Like, she invites me here and we run out on her. Maybe she's looking for me."

I nudged Kris's foot under the table.

"Nels?" he said, his voice a note higher than usual. "Did Linette tell you she was getting married?"

Nelson swallowed, but his face gave nothing away. "No kidding," he said. "Who's the guy?"

"A rabbi," I said.

"Well," he said. "A rabbi. Sounds serious."

"Kris was worried that you might not have come if you'd known that."

"Why?"

"You know-I came with Natalie. You and Linette would make four. We'd hang around together and have some fun."

"Dance," I said.

"And you think that's out of the question?"

Kris and I must have been wearing twin apologetic expressions, because Nelson said, "Hey, look. I got out of Providence, which I needed to do. And I get to see Natalie under happier circ.u.mstances than last time." He punched Kris's upper arm. "And I get to see my brother back among the living." He raised his gla.s.s, and we raised ours, with less gusto.

Nelson said, "I see a jukebox."

Kris said, "I've been here too long. I was actually thinking, Better not play music on Shabbat."

Nelson stood up and fished quarters out of his pocket. He spent a long time flipping through the jukebox's offerings, deep in what looked like bleak contemplation. When he rejoined us, he asked, "So what do you know about this rabbi?"

"Hardly anything," I said.

"A few details," said Kris.

"Does he have a name?" Nelson asked.

"Joel," I said.

"When's the wedding?"

"Manana," said Kris.

"Does she have a ring?"

"Like this," said Kris, indicating a rectangle the size of a pocket lighter.

"When did they meet?"

"Unclear," said Kris.

I said, "I guess you two lost track of each other after college."

Nelson looked expectantly toward the silent jukebox.

"What'd you pick?" Kris asked.

"Elton John and Roberta Flack." In seconds, we heard, as if it were a parody of Sonny Cirrell, the opening notes of the theme from Love Story.

Kris said, "You bozo."

"It's a mistake," Nelson protested. "I must've hit the wrong b.u.t.tons."

Kris eyed the half-dozen locals and muttered, "We're gonna get beat up."

A man in a dark green leisure suit walked by us, leading a tough cookie in a nurse's uniform onto the dance floor.

Nelson said, "Go ahead, you two."

We said, No, not if he wasn't.

Nelson said, "In that case, Natalie, may I?"

The song was difficult to dance to; it called for slow, skating steps that felt ridiculous. I said, "We can sit this one out if you want to."

He said, "I was hoping we'd have a chance to talk."

"Sure," I said lightly. "About what?"

"Stuff."

"Such as?"

"Things good with Kris?"

"Very good." I was conscious of his hand holding mine, his chin not quite grazing my hair, and I thought, If I were back at the lake and fourteen again and someone had said, "One day you'll dance with Nelson Berry to a theme song from a movie called Love Story," I would have been thrilled.

"Has Linette mentioned me at all?" Nelson asked.

"A couple dozen times."

"Concerning ...?"

"Robin. And how you're doing."

"And you said ...?"

"Essentially, that you were okay, not great. I told her Robin was sweet and beautiful, and that she was the happiest bride-to-be I've ever seen."

After a long few moments he asked hoa.r.s.ely, "Do you think that's true?"

"I know it."

The song played on painfully. I glanced over at Kris, who was wearing the sweetly anxious look of a guy who was letting his older, reputedly more charming brother dance with his girl.

"Aren't all brides-to-be happy?" Nelson asked.

I said, "Some are happier than others."

He shrugged. "I haven't known that many."

"I'm thinking of your buddy Linette." Nelson waited, didn't prompt me. After a minute I said, "I get the idea that she's not madly in love with this guy."

"Why?"

"She doesn't see him very often, and when she talks about him ... I don't know. I didn't really get a sense of why she's marrying the guy."

"People don't always wear their heart on their sleeve."

"I think Linette would ... and I'm fairly certain that sleeve would be attached to a hideous outfit."

Nelson laughed, and said fondly, "Doesn't she have the worst taste in clothes?"

I thought of Robin's cla.s.sic, starched, all-cotton clothes, her long, straight hair, the Pappagallos on her feet, and the tasteful diamond solitaire on her hand. In danger of saying emphatically, "The worst, the polar opposite of Robin's," I murmured, "Just an impression about her as reluctant bride-to-be. Just something in her eyes, and what she didn't say about Joel."

"People expect me to act a certain way and say things that will rea.s.sure them that I'm incapacitated by grief."

I protested that it was just the opposite: People wanted signs that he was okay.

"I'm not okay," he said, "but I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other."

"I know that."

"One reason I wanted to come up here was to be around strangers who wouldn't be giving me the poor-Nelson look I see everywhere else."

"Then you came to the right place. I can't imagine a look of pity on Linette's face. I think she'll expect you to do the limbo at the camp reunion."

Nelson laughed, then said he was going to give Linette a call and tell her where she could find us.

"They don't answer their phone."

"Ever?"

"Friday night's a big deal," I said. "Observant Jews don't answer the phone or turn on a light. Did you ride the elevator? It stops on every floor so no one has to press a b.u.t.ton."

"I knew her in college, remember? Friday night was no different from any other night."

I said, "You're saying she isn't observant?"

"What she is," said Nelson, "is an obedient daughter."

The song ended, finally, and we went back to Kris, who was trying hard to look unworried.

I said, "I was telling Nelson about our various conversations with Linette."

Kris said, "She and Natalie hit it off."

"More importantly," Nelson said, "I understand you two are hitting it off."

I wanted to keep up my end of the banter, but it seemed the right moment to make a declaration in front of the brother who had always won the hearts of the guests. I said, "I understand I have you to thank for all of this."

"All of what?"

"Accepting Linette's invitation. Coming here this weekend-"

"This glorious weekend, she means," said Kris.