Standing to face the lake, I indulged in a moment of play, as though I were on a stage with the curtain closed behind me. I swung my arms. I did fifty jumping jacks. I mimed a person singing or shouting, until I felt myself to be rising, clothed in feathers and scales, a creature that forgets everything and lives by its wits.

I sat and sipped my coffee. Before me, the pine trees pointed up and their reflections pointed down, just as convincing as the real ones, and I allowed myself a few moments to believe in this second world.

At the far shore, something puckered the glassy surface. A kayak, paddling purposefully in my direction. There was plenty of time to retreat, but I stayed put. Must be the newcomers who were rebuilding the house across the way. They’d painted the house yellow. It is so exposed that we think they have violated the bylaws of the lake association charter. We think some shoreline trees must have been cut down to give them a better view. This also gives us an unwelcome view of a bright yellow house. It has even found its way into the reflection. Maddy would agree the color yellow is garish for a house. Garish may not be her word, but it is perfectly apt. Tawasentha, the highest natural lake east of the Rockies, has always been, and will always remain, a no-motorboats, cabin-in-the-woods kind of place, no matter how big the cabins have become. Forty years ago, when my father bought the lot, people built their own houses. Dwellings are still supposed to be some shade of brown or gray. The world needs all the trees it can get.

The kayak advanced toward me, dragging the shattered reflection along behind it. The occupant was a woman of about my age. She coasted alongside the dock, smiling openly. Her hair was pulled back into what resembled a reddish ball of yarn, and her arms and face were covered with freckles, which the sun had blurred but not managed to melt into a tan. The paddle across her knees was dripping from both ends. She certainly wasn’t the person I imagined would come from that house. I sat above her on the dock and waited.

“Is everything okay? You were waving. I thought maybe you needed help.”

“I was doing yoga,” I said, touched but annoyed to hear the word help spoken so casually.

The stranger’s intense blue eyes passed over me. I don’t think she believed me for a minute. “I’m Norma. Your new neighbor.” She gestured with her paddle, scattering drops. “We’re doing things to the place before moving in. I hope it hasn’t been too much of a nuisance. The noise, I mean.”