As his uncle walked away, Wes called, “Maybe we can all get together some time, you and me and Deloris and the girls. It would be nice to catch up.”

“Right, right,” Lazlo said without looking back. “We’ll see what happens.”

Wes watched as his uncle walked outside, batting at the air around his head as if an invisible plague of insects had just descended upon him. Once in his Mercedes parked at the curb, he took a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and patted his unnaturally smooth face and neck with it.

Across the street, the Subaru was now gone.

“You’re making a deal with the devil.” An old man with a grizzly beard stuck his head out of the kitchen. It was Grady, the cook. He was sure to have been listening all this time. Everyone in the small restaurant, which was still decorated in early eighties pizza-chic from its previous incarnation as a pizzeria arcade, had been listening, leaning forward in their seats, speaking in hushed tones, their ears turning like owls’ heads. This was bound to reach Eby soon.

“I know,” Wes said, gathering his and Lazlo’s plates and napkins from the window counter before one of the waitresses could do it. “But there’s no reason for me to hang on to that land if Eby sells. My property is in the middle of her lake property. The only way it’s worth anything is in connection to hers.”

“I still can’t believe she’s selling,” Grady said, shaking his head. “That place is an institution.”

“Eby has helped a lot of people in this town over the years. If she wants to leave, if that’s what she really wants to do, we should support her. Lost Lake isn’t making money anymore.”

“We should have supported her a long time ago, if it’s come to this.” Grady squinted his tiny brown marble eyes. “Can you imagine what Lost Lake will look like when it’s developed? When your uncle built the water park and outlet mall, it completely changed the landscape north of the interstate. You’ll keep him from doing too much damage this time, won’t you?”

“Change is good, Grady.” Wes handed him the plates.

The front door opened, and a young woman with a blond ponytail entered. “Well, it’s official,” Brittany announced dramatically. “I just heard it from her niece. Eby is selling Lost Lake.”

“We know,” Grady said. “We just heard, too. Wes is selling his property to the same developer.”

“I’m depressed,” Britt said, taking a seat at a nearby table. “I’ll never have another boy take me out there. I’m never going to get married at this rate. Wes, let’s make a pact. If we’re not married by the time we’re thirty, let’s marry each other.”