He and Eby still kept in touch. He’d see her sometimes in town. Every once in a while she’d stop by the restaurant to have a slice and catch up. But this was the first time in years that he’d been out here. As the lake came into view, he saw that the place had aged dramatically and seemed to have grown smaller. Everything felt precarious, as if one good rainstorm would wash it away.

He parked at the main house and went directly inside, finding Eby at the front desk. She had her back to him, reaching for a cabin key on the wall of hooks. Curiously, she had dust on the back of her head and on the backside of her clothing, as if she’d been lying on a rug that hadn’t been vacuumed in a while.

His throat thickened as he watched her. She’d always been a thin woman, but she seemed so fragile to him now, as reedy and brittle as dried grass. It had almost killed him to lose his foster mother four years ago. He didn’t want to lose Eby too. He knew the end of Lost Lake didn’t mean the end of Eby, but he was still going to miss her, miss knowing where to find her. He should have checked in more. He should have come out here before now. If he had, he would have seen how much repair work the place needed, and he would have fixed it. There’s a point where anything can be saved. The trick is knowing when. And he had missed it.

But if this was what Eby had decided on, then it was the right decision. Eby didn’t make bad choices. Everyone knew that. There wasn’t a person in town who hadn’t found him- or herself driving out to the lake because life had become too crowded or too noisy, their marriage was a wreck, or they hated their boss. And they always sought out Eby. They would sit in the dining room and have coffee and snack on something Lisette was experimenting with in the kitchen—lemon curd or yogurt sorbet or corn soup. It hadn’t been unusual to see Eby walking the wooded trail around the lake with someone from town, heads together, deep in conversation. There was even a cabin at Lost Lake, number 2, where harried mothers would come to stay for a night of blissful silence, no questions asked. Eby had a reputation for fixing things. If people really wanted to change, she knew what to do. She would jump off a bridge after you if she thought she could help.

Somewhere along the way, though, they’d forgotten how much they’d needed her. They should have told her sooner. Wes should have told her sooner.