Lazlo was saying, “Eby has been an upstanding businesswoman, a community activist, and a damn fine friend to all of us over the years. But she’s ready for a little fun now. I’m told she’s planning to travel. I hope you’ll send us all postcards, Eby!”

The crowd chuckled.

Kate’s voice was low and tight as she said, “Two days ago, I said I wanted to give Eby money to save this place. You didn’t say a word.”

Wes shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“How about, ‘My uncle’s buying this place and I’m investing in it.’ What part of that tripped you up? I feel so foolish.”

“Don’t, Kate.” He reached out to touch her, but she jerked away.

Lazlo continued, “Lost Lake will live on. I will make sure of it. This place will soon be a thriving community! I’ve decided to call it Lost Lake Commons. Lots will start at very affordable prices, with lakeside condos going at a premium. There will be a billboard with contact information on the highway soon, so I look forward to hearing from you. Tell your friends!”

“What were you doing out here all this time?” Kate asked. “You obviously don’t give a damn about what happens here. You’re just going to tear it all down.”

“Let’s lift our glasses to Eby. Have a wonderful retirement!” Lazlo said. “Maestro, music! Let’s dance!”

Billy Larkworthy’s Bustin’ Bluegrass Band started playing again.

“Come on,” Wes said, taking her hand.

She tried pulling her hand out of his, but his grip was like a Chinese finger trap. The harder you fought, the more entangled you became. The only way out of it was to relax into it. “What are you doing?” she whispered loudly as he led her onto the dance floor, where several other couples and a few enthusiastic toddlers were dancing.

“You heard the man,” Wes said, putting an arm around her. “Let’s dance.”

He began to move. She tried stepping on his toes. It didn’t work. “I don’t want to dance.”

“So you just want to stand here and discuss this in front of everyone?”

She set her jaw. “What’s there to discuss?”

He spun her around, smiling at another couple, calling out a greeting. “You had two weeks here when you were twelve,” he said in a subdued voice. “Then you come back, out of the blue, and say you’re going to save everything, that you’re going to make it how it used to be. Forgive me if I had my doubts. Because, even if you did manage to save the lake, you still said you were leaving, which meant leaving the rest of us to deal with the reality of living here. Just like last time.”

Left them here? Is that what he thought? That she’d simply gone off and left them behind, like a glove or a toothbrush, something that was easily replaced?