“Here-here,” Izzy seconded, raising her tumbler as well. Salmon salad and two glasses of wine had left her pleasantly buzzed. She turned toward Lilah, who sat perched on the side again, wrapped in her sweater and a blanket, dangling her legs in the water.
Lilah leaned forward and touched her glass of fizzy water to Izzy’s tumbler, then did the same to Bridget’s. “To sisters.”
“And to Trace pulling an overnighter in Juneau on behalf of Jorg’s prostate,” Bridget added, taking a drink. After swallowing, she aimed her stare at Lilah. “Get your ass in here, Iquat. It’s not still that time of the month.”
Lilah colored, but brushed her hair back from her face with calm dignity and shook her head. “No, thank you. I wasn’t feeling great this morning. My system’s not up for temperature extremes tonight. This is fine for me.”
Bridget shrugged. “Suit yourself. Sorry you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m fine,” Lilah demurred. “Just trying to keep it that way.”
Hoping to smooth out the mood with a change of subject, Izzy said, “Thanks to both of you for convening another girls’ night. I sincerely appreciate it. I realize that, unlike me, when Trace is out of town you both still have plenty of other things to do and plenty of other people to do them with.”
“Ah, please.” Bridget leaned back and looked at her through lowered eyelids. “We’re sick of everyone else around here, aren’t we, Lilah?”
The younger woman gave Bridget a quelling look, but admitted, “Spring is tough, sometimes. We locals have been cooped up together all winter. The holidays are over. There’s nothing to do, but the tourist season hasn’t started yet, so there are no new faces. No new stories. No distractions. We’re stuck with ourselves for a few more weeks.”
Bridget blew her a kiss. “To quote Huey Lewis, I’m happy to be stuck with you.”
“At least you can fly to Juneau or Anchorage for a change of pace,” Lilah retorted in a rare show of discontent. “I’m tied to the inn. I have to wait for the summer people to come.”
Izzy’s sympathy welled. Lilah was young and smart and clearly bristling under the limits of her current life. But she wasn’t sure it was her place to broach the subject of options. Luckily, Bridget did it for her.
“You’re twenty, girl. Screw online classes. Tell Rose you want to go away to college.”
“She asked me to do two years online first. If I stay and help her through high season at the inn, she’ll pay for my last two years at a university.”
Bridget scoffed. “She’s just not ready to let you go. Tug the leash a little, and she might change her mind.”
Lilah looked down at her lap. “I made an agreement with her. And, honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready to go away to college. I shouldn’t have complained.”
“Aw, fuck that, Lilah.” Bridget’s violet eyes flashed like gemstones. “You graduated first in your class at Captivity High, you’re mature beyond your years—beyond my years—and you’ve watched way less smart, less mature classmates fly off to wherever the hell they wanted while you sat here in Captivity like a good little girl, pining for some adventure. You’re ready. You know it. I know it. Rose knows it.”
“I do not know it,” Lilah shot back. “I don’t know what I want, which is why the years here completing my general ed requirements were a good idea. College isn’t for everyone. It wasn’t for you.”
Ouch, Izzy thought. But also, good point.
Bridget smiled broadly. “But at least I proved it.”
Izzy took a sip of her wine, and then found the question uppermost in her mind popping out of her mouth. “Why didn’t you finish? I mean, jeez Bridget, one measly year to go. You were practically done. And you’d be fully vested in your half of the airfield if you had your degree.” And then Trace would have had to discuss his plans with you, because you could veto them if you chose.
Trace’s sister looked away. “I don’t know.” Before Izzy had to prod, Bridget went on, “I went to college for the wrong reason. Because it was expected of me, basically. Then I stayed for the wrong reason. Because…” She broke off and gulped her wine. “Hell, it doesn’t really matter anymore. It was four years ago and seems like eons. But when I finally figured out that I’d tied my whole purpose for being there to the wrong reason, and that reason was gone, I left. Because that’s what you do when you realize your dream is bullshit.”
“Shay came and got you,” Lilah said softly.
Those flashing eyes swung to Lilah. “He told you?”
“He told me something made him fly down to see you, and you looked so lost and…unwell, he just picked you up and took you home. He worried he’d made the wrong decision. Wished he’d had your parents fly in from wherever they were and talk with your first.”
Bridget closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and rubbed the heel of her hand over her forehead. “I didn’t know he second-guessed himself on account of that. But no, he did exactly the right thing. I wanted to come home. I just had too much pride to pick up the phone and call for help. I was embarrassed about, well, losing track of myself. Being a stupid cliché. Failing. To be honest, I was never shocked Shay took me home. I was shocked Trace didn’t turn me around, fly me back, and tell me to finish my damn degree.”
“He told me Trace was afraid to send you back. He thought you had an eating disorder.”
Bridget just stared at Lilah for a long moment, then threw back her head and laughed.
“Is that funny?” Izzy asked.
“No,” Bridget admitted, still working on taming her laughter. “No,” she said again when she had herself under control, “but it explains a lot. Like why the kitchen was full of all my favorite foods and he kept pushing them at me every time I turned around—like a goddamn mother hen. He still does. Jesus.” She rubbed her head again. “What a mess I must have been. Sneaky Shay, though.” She used her wineglass to point at Lilah. “He could have corrected Trace at any time. He knew exactly what was wrong with me.”
“What was wrong?” Lilah asked, beating Izzy to the question. “He never told me.”
“Good old Shay.” Bridget’s smile went crooked, in a female version of Trace’s. “He was keeping my secret. Which was more pathetic than an eating disorder, I’m sad to say.” She tipped her tumbler up and finished her wine.
“Drinking problem?” Izzy winged a brow at Lilah.
Bridget shot her the finger. “If I said yes, could we let this drop?”
“No,” Izzy said firmly. She wanted to know. Deep down she felt like she needed to know. “I won’t tell Trace, I promise.”