Chapter 9
TEXT MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO REECE KRUEGER, 1:07 PM: You still at the pond?
TEXT MESSAGE FROM REECE KRUEGER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 1:10 PM: yeah! bring nachos
Cobalt Pond wasn’t actually a pond. Decades ago, the Hein family supplemented its fortune by carving marble out of the Massachusetts landscape. Nature had taken the quarry back, filling its deep crevices with rainwater and runoff from a nearby river.
Four miles from campus on land now owned by the county, the quarry was a destination for Hein students during the warmer months of term. The water could freeze your toes off except for a handful of weeks in August, but its grassy banks were the perfect place to stretch out with coursework and a cheap bottle of wine. Generations of local kids added their graffiti tags on the marble outcroppings. Bros jumped like falling stars from the taller cliffs, shouting and spiraling through the air on their way down. Every so often alumni returned to take their engagement photos at the water’s edge in the fall, the burning red leaves a perfect New England backdrop.
Today the quarry boasted a full house. Hein students and alumni scattered in small groups around the jagged edge of the quarry’s mouth. A few people waded in the water despite the chill.
Jackie dropped Charlotte off on the roadside. “I’m going to take a nap while you’re out, and then let’s head to the clothing swap at five.” She passed Charlotte a bottle of sunscreen from her tote bag. “Text me when you’re on your way back, okay? We can find something fun for you to wear tonight.”
“Sounds good.” Charlotte popped open the sunscreen and rubbed a splotch across the bridge of her nose. “Are you sure you don’t mind me ditching you? You’re welcome to join us.”
Jackie waved her off. “Go have fun, we have all night.” She tossed over the take-out bag of nachos. “Five p.m., don’t forget!”
“I won’t.”
After Jackie sped off, Charlotte crouched to roll up the cuffs of her jeans. The reunion committee had lucked out with the weather; today’s temperature was in the midseventies. Perfect conditions to hang out at an old marble quarry with your ex and his bros after a night of sex and unspoken feelings.
She strode through the grass to the pond. A quick scan confirmed that Ben wasn’t there. Maybe he’d only come to the reunion for the Thursday night panel? She wouldn’t put it past him to bounce as soon as he wasn’t the center of attention anymore.
A clique of proper adults—ten-year Hein alums, presumably—sat with a toddler on a faded quilt. Charlotte spotted the hockey guys on the opposite bank, a cooler open beside an old charcoal grill. Garrett stoked the flames under a bunch of burgers, an HU hockey cap backward on his head.
Misty romped toward her across the marble. Her red tail wagged like a flag on the back of a bicycle.
Charlotte kneeled to greet the pup. “Hey, honey.” Misty threw herself into her arms and arranged herself on Charlotte’s chest, panting happily. “Oh, you want to be carried, do you? Okay, princess.”
Garrett stiffened as she approached their cookout, but he gave her a polite enough wave with the spatula. He must have resigned himself to her presence after Reece went MIA last night and returned in a good mood. “What’s good? Burger?”
“I’m full, thanks. But I brought nacho fries from Terry’s.” She put her leftovers down on the cooler as a peace offering.
Liam sprawled in a beach chair, a baseball cap pulled down over his face. He patted blindly atop the cooler until his hand landed on the nachos. Then he pulled the bag into his lap and fed himself a chip, all without emerging from underneath the brim of his hat.
“Late night?” Charlotte asked.
Garrett flipped a patty. “Liam was foolish enough to partake in illicit drugs.”
The bro in question groaned inaudibly.
Charlotte winced, unable to relate but still sympathetic. “Where’s Reece?”
“He’s swimming again.” She followed the tip of his spatula to a head bobbing in the water.
“Jesus, he must be freezing.”
Garrett shrugged. “Spare towels are by the marshmallows.”
She nodded her thanks and eased Misty to the ground.
Charlotte stepped out of her loafers and sank her toes into the grass. She hadn’t brought a swimsuit with her, but as far as she could tell, the bros hadn’t either.
A well-worn dirt path led the way to the clifftop. She chose her footing carefully, dodging exposed roots and abandoned bottle caps. At the peak, the marble was slick and smooth against her skin. The outcropping over the water had softened underneath nearly a century of adventurous feet.
The warm air kissed her body as she stripped off her shirt and her jeans, leaving them in a heap on the stone. She ignored the voice in her head that worried over the temperature of the water and the height of the jump. Back in college she thought nothing of throwing herself off a thirty-foot cliff in her underpants and a sports bra.
Charlotte’s toes found the edge of the cliff. The water was black despite the sunshine pouring across its surface—the quarry’s depth ate up the light. She hugged her arms around her chest.
The impact would shock her body. She’d be freezing when she got out too; the air wasn’t hot enough to dry her thick hair. She’d forgotten to bring a scrunchie.
Reece swam laps below her. He sliced through the water with even precision, performing a steady freestyle, one arm after the other. She pictured him easily as one of those elderly men in the YMCA pool at six a.m., faded swim trunks and a white towel from the front desk. Reece would always be handsome, at any age. He’d still have those crinkling green eyes when he smiled.
“Yo,” she shouted down to him. Reece stopped his laps, treading water as he peered around. “Up here!”
He craned his neck. “Charlie?” For a moment he looked disoriented, but then he beamed up at her from underneath his dripping hair. “Are you gonna jump?”
She wasn’t sure. Thirty feet didn’t look like much from the ground, but up here…Reece bobbed like a tiny LEGO man in the water.
“I don’t know!”
He laughed, not unkindly. “You don’t have to! I can swim around and meet you in the shallows.”
Because of course he would. Reece would never pressure her into doing something stupid, even if there wasn’t much of a risk to it. She didn’t have to do this if she didn’t want to—he wouldn’t think any less of her.
“How’s the water?” she called down.
His barking laugh was answer enough. “Awful!”
