Part 10 (2/2)
”Come on!” Clay calls to Luke and Wally. ”We don't need to see the upstairs anyway, we're not sleeping up there.”
Wally looks to Mrs. Landry. She rubs a hand down her face and rolls her eyes. ”Go ahead, Wally, Luke,” she says. ”You're on vacation, anyway.”
They leave the boys in the pool and tour the upstairs. ”This must be the master,” Dr. Landry says, circling around a bedroom on the third floor. ”Nellie, I'll get our things and bring them up here.”
”Okay,” Mrs. Landry says, popping her lips, ”and let's see the other bedrooms-”
She leads them into a room across the hall from the master bedroom. It has a queen-sized bed and a Jacuzzi in the bathroom.
”Oh my G.o.d,” Joanie says, eyeing the Jacuzzi. ”I have to sleep in here.”
Mrs. Landry laughs as she crosses the room to open the curtains. ”So does that mean Baker and Hannah want to take the fourth-floor bedroom? Or do you want to share with your sister, Hannah?”
Joanie spins away from the group and heads into the bathroom, her eyes on the hot tub, unconcerned with Hannah's answer. Hannah looks to Baker before she can help it, realizing too late that she is asking a question with her eyes. Baker meets Hannah's eyes for only the sharpest second before she looks away.
In the time it takes her to inhale, Hannah knows an infinite moment of turmoil as her mind wrestles with her heart.
”I'll go upstairs,” she says.
”Great,” Mrs. Landry says. ”Let's go on up and see it.”
Hannah and Baker follow Mrs. Landry up the stairs to the very top floor, where they find a small landing with a white door leading off of it. Mrs. Landry nudges the door open with a light touch of her fingers to the wood, murmuring ”Let's see” under her breath.
This room is smaller than any of the others in the house. The walls are sea green, with a paper border of seash.e.l.ls cresting along the top. There are two rectangular windows with pearl-colored, airy curtains that transform the bright sunlight streaming through them into something gentler, less powerful, so that it coats the room in a tempered glow. Hannah notes a dresser, a white wicker rocking chair, and, to the right of the door, a queen-sized bed with a seash.e.l.l pink comforter. To her left, she sees a small bathroom.
”Oh, this is so cute,” Mrs. Landry says, stepping toward the windows and parting the curtains. ”I think you two got the best room in the house!”
”It's perfect,” Baker says, her eyes s.h.i.+ning as she surveys the room.
”It is,” Hannah agrees.
”Well, I'll get out of your hair so you can unpack and get changed,” Mrs. Landry says, crossing the room with a pleased smile on her face. ”I'm going to make some sandwiches for y'all to take to the beach. Turkey okay?”
Hannah flops back on the bed after Mrs. Landry leaves. She stretches her arms above her head and listens as Baker unzips her tote bag and pulls items from within.
”You unpacking already?” Hannah asks, her eyes on the ceiling.
”If I don't do it now, you know I'll stress on the beach.”
”True. Hey, did you bring toothpaste? I forgot mine.”
Baker laughs softly. ”Yeah. I brought every toiletry I could think of because I knew you'd forget something.”
Hannah sits up on the bed, a smile already on her face. ”What? I never forget anything.”
”Freshman retreat, your deodorant. Soph.o.m.ore summer-at the lake-your razor. And remember skiing with my family last year? You forgot your toothbrush and Nate had to go buy you one?”
”Fine,” Hannah laughs. ”You're right. As usual.”
”I know,” Baker says, a smirk on her face as she holds up her toothpaste. ”Okay, let's get changed and head downstairs. We should help Clay's mom with those sandwiches.”
They pull their swimsuits out of their bags, and now the energy in the room changes from giddy to awkward. They haven't thought about this part-about how to change in front of each other after what happened on Mardi Gras. Hannah digs further into her bag, pretending to search for something else, buying time to figure out what to do. But then Baker stands up and heads into the bathroom, swinging the door after her so that it doesn't fully shut, but doesn't remain open, either. And Hannah understands, as she hears the rustle of Baker's clothes falling to the floor, that she is supposed to change out here, in the bedroom, in her own s.p.a.ce.
”Are you finished?” Baker calls through the bathroom door.
Hannah finishes tying the top of her turquoise two-piece. ”Yeah, I'm good.”
She merely glances at Baker when she comes out of the bathroom: a glance just long enough to see that she is wearing her favorite red bikini. ”All set?” Hannah asks, just for the sake of making conversation, just to keep herself focused on something other than Baker's toned olive skin.
”Yeah. Are you bringing anything?”
”Couple of books.”
Baker's eyes land on Hannah's skin for a lightning-quick second. ”Yeah. Good idea.”
The beach sand is hot under Hannah's feet as she and her friends saunter down toward the water, their towels slung over their shoulders, Baker and Joanie carrying beach bags, Clay carrying a food cooler.
”Feel that sun,” Clay says, arching his neck skyward. ”So awesome.”
”Good thing we brought SPF 50,” Joanie says, ”or Hannah and I would fry like b.i.t.c.hes.”
”Joanie, what does that even mean, 'fry like b.i.t.c.hes'?” Hannah says.
”You know what I mean. Don't ask me to explain my genius mind to you.”
They drop their towels and bags on a patch of hot, smooth sand about twenty feet from the water, and without further ado, Clay, Wally, and Luke sprint down to the ocean, shouting and waving their arms as they go. Hannah, Baker, and Joanie spread out their towels and survey the beach to see who else might be here, but they don't recognize anyone from St. Mary's.
”Okay,” Joanie says, pulling twin bottles of sunscreen from her bag and tossing one to Hannah, ”let the sunscreen process begin.”
”Should I time this?” Baker says.
”You should probably put some on,” Hannah tells her. ”Remember last summer? How burnt your shoulders got?”
”I know, Mom,” Baker says, smiling as she crouches by her bag. ”But I'm not using your bottle. I brought SPF 30. I want to get some color.” She pulls a bright orange bottle from her bag, then lifts her tank top over her head. Hannah stares pointedly at the floral pattern on her beach towel.
”The boys are gonna burn,” Baker says, squinting toward the ocean as she rubs white lotion all over her upper arms.
”Wally will make them come back in a minute,” Hannah says. ”You know he will.”
”Here,” Baker says, watching Hannah struggle to apply her sunscreen. ”Let me get your back.”
She spins Hannah away from her, and after a long second, Hannah feels the startling cold of sunscreen lotion on her skin. Then Baker's hands are there, warm and soothing, rubbing over her shoulders and upper back, then trailing down to her lower back and her hips.
”Are you using the 50?” Hannah asks, struggling to keep her voice even.
”Of course,” Baker says, her voice bordering on tender. ”I don't want you to burn at all.”
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