Free Between Sisters by Kristin Hannah Page B

been—they spent most of their time in the lake, standing neck-deep in the cool water, their faces shielded by floppy hats and sunglasses. Talking. Always talking.
    Now, finally, the weather was perfect. The sky was a bright seamless blue, and the lake was like glass. The older kids were in the house, playing crazy eights and listening to Willie's ear-splitting music, probably talking about the latest, grossest R-rated movie that everyone else's mothers allowed their children to see. Alison and Bonnie were pedaling a water bike in the cordoned-off section of the lake. Their giggles could be heard above the others.
    Karen sat slouched in her chair, fanning herself with a pamphlet from the water-slide park. Charlotte, completely protected from the sun by a floppy white hat and a diaphanous, three-quarter-sleeved cover-up, was reading the latest Kelly Ripa book club choice and sipping lemonade.
    Gina leaned sideways and opened the cooler, rooting noisily through it for a Diet Coke. When she found one, she pulled it out and snapped it open, taking a long drink before she shut the cooler. “My marriage ends and we're drinking Diet Coke and lemonade. When Karen's dickwad first husband left, we slammed tequila and danced the macarena at Cowboy Bob's.”
    “That was my second husband, Stan,” Karen said. “When Aaron left, we ate those pot brownies and went skinny-dipping in the lake.”
    “My point remains,” Gina said. “My crisis is getting the
Sesame Street
treatment. You got
Animal House
.”
    “Cowboy Bob's,” Charlotte said, almost smiling. “We haven't been there in years.”
    “Not since we started dragging around these undersize humans,” Karen pointed out. “It's hard to rock and roll with a kid on your back.”
    Charlotte looked out at the lake, to where the little girls were pedaling their water bike. Her smile slowly faded. That familiar sadness came into her eyes again. No doubt she was thinking about the baby she wanted so much.
    Claire glanced at her friends. It startled her for a moment, as it sometimes did on these trips, to see their thirty-five-year-old selves. This year, more than any other, they seemed quieter. Older, even. Women on the edge of a sparkling lake who had too much on their minds.
    That would never do. They came to Lake Chelan to be their younger, freer selves. Troubles were for other latitudes.
    Claire pushed herself up on her elbows. The scratchy cotton of her beach towel seemed to bite into her sunburned forearms.
    “Willie's fourteen this year, right?”
    Karen nodded. “He's starting high school in September. Can you believe it? He still sleeps with a stuffed animal and forgets to brush his teeth. The ninth-grade girls look like Solid Gold Dancers next to him.”
    “Why couldn't he baby-sit for an hour or two?”
    Gina sat upright. “Hot damn, Claire. Why didn't we think of that before? He's fourteen.”
    Karen frowned. “With the maturity of an earthworm.”
    “We all baby-sat at his age,” Charlotte said. “Hell, I was practically a nanny that summer before high school.”
    “He's a responsible kid, Karen. He'll be fine,” Claire said gently.
    “I don't know. Last month his fish died. Lack of food.”
    “They won't starve to death in two hours.”
    Karen looked back at the cabin.
    Claire understood exactly what her friend was thinking. If Willie was old enough to baby-sit, he wasn't really a little boy anymore.
    “Yeah,” Karen said finally. “Of course. Why not? We'll leave a cell phone with him—”
    “—and a list of numbers—”
    “—and we'll tell them not to leave the cabin.”
    Gina smiled for the first time all day. “Ladies, the Bluesers are going to leave the building.”
    It took them two hours to shower, change their clothes, and make the kids' dinner. Macaroni and cheese and hot dogs. It took them another hour to convince the kids that their plan was possible.
    Finally, Claire took firm hold of Karen and led her outside. As they walked down the