Chapter 1

“Ah the old neighborhood!” Bobby Frank, with his potbelly and comb-over haircut, said as he drove his Cadillac Cimarron out of the cul-de-sac. On all sides were red brick ranch houses behind lush green lawns. “I still remember moving in here in ‘58. Half the houses weren’t even built yet. Your grandfather was so proud to drive me and your mother here in the moving van. And why not? We were living the American dream.”

Eric Frank sat in the passenger seat next to his uncle. Bobby was tall and often reminded his nephew of this when recounting his glory days as the star (supposedly) of his high school basketball team, but he looked small sitting next to his nephew. Eric stood almost six and a half feet with a muscular bulk, as opposed to his uncle’s heavyset appearance. The newspaper picked Eric for the all-city football team even as a junior the previous year, and everyone expected him to play college ball. He was, however, at the decidedly glamorous position of left guard, and had yet to have a serious girlfriend, two facts of which his uncle frequently reminded him.

“Too bad it’s a weekday morning, I know all the neighbors would like to see the Caddy,” Bobby continued, “I’ve come a long way from the old rusty Chevy I parked in that driveway when I was your age.”

Eric tried not to smirk. He’d heard that the small and underpowered Cimarron was already considered one of the worst cars Detroit had ever put out, an embarrassment to the once-great Cadillac name and a sign of how far the American auto industry had fallen, but Uncle Bobby was a prideful man who had always wanted to drive a “Caddy”. His own father, Eric’s grandfather, only got as high as a Pontiac on General Motor’s ladder of success. Bobby was working as a warehouse manager down in Chicago, near O’Hare, and this was his first time through Milwaukee since he bought the car. Eric couldn’t even afford a Yugo so who was he to judge his uncle for being proud of owning a Cadillac Cimarron?

“Not many neighbors left from your day,” Eric said, “Grandpa says there’s a lot of new faces.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” their uncle said, pointing to a one-story rambler with a large wooden wagon wheel mounted as décor between windows, under the shade of an old oak tree. “I remember when old man Bergstrosser wrapped his Pontiac around that tree. Had a few too many at Joe’s Bar and decided to park in the front yard. Went inside to sleep it off. His old lady saw the wreck the next morning when she came out to water the flowers, and she opened the bedroom window and sprayed the old codger with the hose, right in bed! Me and your mom saw it from the street where we were playing,” Bobby broke into laughter and looked to his nephew to join in.

“Things sure were better in the ‘50s huh?” Eric asked with a wryness that went unnoticed by his uncle. The Cadillac cruised down the street of cozy old houses. A few sprinklers gently sprayed their green grass lawns, shhhh-tik-tik-tik repeating endlessly.

“You know it, nephew,” Bobby said, reaching the end of the long dead-end street and turning out onto the main road of the subdivision. “I guess it’s good that you guys are living here with Daddy, this is still probably a good place to grow up. Even if it’s not as good as back then. Nothing is, these days.”

They drove past a stately two-story house, a “colonial” as Eric’s mother would have called it back when she was sober. The brick had been painted a peach color, and the shutters were olive green.

“That’s where the African-Americans moved in, right?” Bobby said. Eric cringed at the thought of where this was going. “Of course they paint the house a weird color. Mr. Magoo must be rolling over in his grave.”

“Mr. Magoo?” Eric asked incredulously, finding his uncle’s non-sequitur a welcome distraction from the subject of race, “The old cartoon guy with the classes?”

“Arthur Magoo! Foreman at the cement plant, a good man,” Uncle Bobby said humorlessly, “He built that house in better days. Are the people who own it now homosexuals too?”

“Uh, beats me,” Eric said. “The house was run down though before they moved in and fixed it up.”

“Mr. Magoo always kept his house up,” Bobby said, “Oh well, it’s 1990. I guess homosexuals move in and paint the old houses peach, and that’s just how it goes. Oh that reminds me of a joke. What’s the worst part about having AIDS?”

Eric shrugged. He didn’t really like where this was going, but there was not much helping it.

“Convincing your wife you’re Haitian!”

Eric forced a chuckle.

“So how is it living with the old man?” Bobby asked, “He’s still pretty spry isn’t he?”

“Oh yeah,” Eric said sincerely, “When we moved in he told me he could still whoop me if I got wise, or made comedy with a girl. Whatever that means.”

Bobby laughed, but then said seriously “If he couldn’t do it, I would. And you know what he meant.”

“Yeah,” Eric said, dubious that his uncle could whoop him, but he filed that with the growing list of points he’d refrain from debating on this car trip. Tactful handing of embarrassing relatives had become his specialty. “He showed me how to work the table saw and put in drywall to replace where he’d had to knock out the ceiling to fix a leaky pipe last fall.”

“That’s my old man,” Bobby said pridefully, “And you’re mowing his yard?”

“Well yeah, not now obviously since we’ll be gone for the summer,” Eric said, “Me and Abby did all the yard work this spring, and housework too. Abby helped with the drywall.”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about her. Your sister sure talks our ears off huh?” Bobby said. Eric looked to the back seat where his silent twin sister gave Eric a pleading look.

No one ever doubted that Abby and Eric were twins. She was just about as close as a girl could get to him in height without having a pituitary condition, standing six feet barefoot. They both had the same fire-red hair, the only gift their father had given them before skipping out on their mom when they were toddlers. Whereas Abby’s hair was long and curly, Eric’s was in a tight flat top. She had a swimmer’s build with broad shoulders and a slim waist. They were both athletes and Eric thought his sister had an even more promising future than he did himself. Abby was his best friend, and he’d go anywhere she went, so when she got a job as a lifeguard at Summer Lake, he had immediately filled out his own application for any available position.

“Oh she’s just sleepy,” Eric said and his sister remained as silent as a ghost, “Anyway are you excited to be getting back to Summer Lake, Uncle Bobby?”

“You bet,” his uncle said, easily taken off his line of commentary about his quiet niece, “I’m still a legend around there, you know. I was the first to dive into the lake off Suicide Bluff.”

“Really?” Eric said, “What’s that, a 100 feet fall?”

“More like 150, at least,” Bobby corrected quickly, “It’s the traditional test of courage for anyone on staff at Summer Lake. Everyone crowds around on the terrace at the closing ceremony to see the jumpers. I doubt anyone on staff will even try this summer. Young people today have it so easy with their feel-good parenting, everybody gets a trophy, there’s just no motivation to go do something big and dangerous. Why climb a mountain when you get praised just for showing up? You’ve won a few real trophies Abby, state swimming champ even if it is just Wisconsin. Isn’t that right?”

“Hey that’s a nice tape deck,” Eric said, sensing his twin’s discomfort and instantly going for another distraction.

“Top of the line, this Caddy,” Uncle Bobby said with pride. “It has a Computer Command Ride system. There’s a microchip that controls the suspension constantly to make it as comfortable as possible. You won’t find that on any cheap Japanese import. I find people at work just admiring it in the parking lot. Everyone knows it’s mine.”

“Mind if we play some music for the road?” Eric got out his uncle’s box of cassettes to put on a Hall & Oates album and cranked up the volume. As the music began, Eric felt his sister kicking the seat hard. This was one of the rare times he wished she had a more ordinary level of strength for a girl.

The Cadillac sailed along the interstate out of town through the northwest suburbs where Abby and Eric had grown up with their mom. He knew their mother had it rough, with their father stepping out like that, and she did do a decent job for many years, working as an assistant manager at the grocery, cooking them dinner and altering their clothes when they both grew too fast to keep buying new ones.

The bottle had just been much. At first, Eric hadn’t been able to figure out why his mom was so furious at him at times, yelling incoherently but hatefully about the tiniest infractions. Other times he thought she was sick. One night Mom passed out on the back deck with a midwestern snowstorm coming in and he’d had to carry her to her bedroom. He had been 13 then and Abby explained to Eric that Mom was drunk all the time, she just hid the bottles from them. He felt dumb for having not realized on his own.

Things got worse after that, but he and Abby were tough kids and looked out for each other. That had been when he realized he’d do anything for his sister, and she for him in return. With her athletic and unusual looks, she attracted the wrong kind of attention from both boys and girls, and with Eric’s naive innocence people took advantage of him too, especially girls. The siblings began high school and held their own. They got good grades, excelled at sports, and helped each other with their bullies. They couldn’t do much against child welfare, though, so when mom got arrested for her third drunk driving offense, having already lost her job to the bottle and unable to make bail, the twins had to choose between foster care or living with their grandfather.

Junior year living with Grandpa had gone well enough, but Abby felt like they were mooching and wanted to get away from Milwaukee anyway when school was out, so the old man himself suggested Summer Lake. It was an old-time resort in the North Woods where he’d taken the family in the fifties and sixties, and the twins themselves had been a few times with him when they were little. Uncle Bobby had been conscripted to drive them up since Grandpa didn’t trust himself on the interstate these days.

Uncle Bobby pulled off at the interstate exit right where they’d take a state highway to the resort. Eric filled the car up with gas while his uncle went inside the station. Abby got out and wiped the windows silently. When Bobby returned, he had a pack of cigarettes for himself and some junk food for the kids. He tossed some chocolate cupcakes to Eric and a bag of chips back to Abby, along with a can of soda for each. “I know you’re probably on a diet like all the girls these days, Abby, but I think you can afford a few calories, isn’t that right Eric?”

“Uh she’s on a training diet but she can have snacks occasionally,” Eric stepped in diplomatically, looking at what his uncle gave him, “I love these chocolate cupcakes.”

“Not too many though. Unlike your sister you might actually need to count those calories,” Bobby said. “Just kidding, being hefty is probably good for football these days if you’re just going to be a lineman,” his uncle added. “Anyway, you two will love Summer Lake. When you stayed there as kids it was like going to Disney World. Now you’ll be behind the scenes. Back in the 1960s, being on staff back then was like being a king of the world.”

Now they were deep on that winding highway that lead to Summer Lake. Farms were giving way to evergreen forest, houses were becoming scarcer. Fast food joints and strip malls had long since stopped appearing out the window, and now the only businesses they saw were bait shops or country stores, and there were fewer and fewer of those as the forest thickened.

“So, you gonna get a boyfriend this summer, Abby?” Uncle Bobby called back to his silent niece after the tape ended and Eric fumbled for a replacement.

When she didn’t answer, Bobby continued, “Aww don’t be shy. You’re a lifeguard! That’s the best job at Summer Lake, you know. It’s what I was, of course. Unlike your brother who’s on the landscaping crew. Landscaping crew! Can you believe it? I bet the boys will be chasing you around all summer Abby, try not to break too many hearts!”

Just then Eric got put in The Eagles Greatest Hits, which launched Bobby into a nostalgic rant about how music had gone to pot in the eighties and the nineties were going to be even worse with all these rappers, and floozies like Madonna. Eric breathed a sigh of relief as this rant was on such a robust topic for their uncle that it carried them all the way down the blacktop country road that represented the final stretch to Summer Lake.

“There it is!” Uncle Bobby shouted as they came around a hillside bend in the road and a six-story stone lodge appeared dramatically before them, set against a clear blue lake with steep hills forming a green bowl around the resort site. It really was a majestic place, it was no wonder they’d built the biggest resort in the whole North Woods here.

The lodge, which had hundreds of guest rooms as well as two ballrooms, two restaurants and expansive lobby, was drastically larger and grander than anything they’d seen on the way up since leaving Milwaukee. Still, overlooking a massive man-made lake and set amid the towering green hills, it seemed appropriate in scale and announced that this was a luxurious lakeside retreat from a bygone era. Abby had said this place was outdated and living on borrowed time, but Eric thought it looked fantastic and exciting.

“It looks bigger than I remember it,” Eric said, leaning up in his seat now as Bobby drove into the parking lot.

“They don’t build ‘em like that anymore,” Bobby gushed. “It’s as classy as the swanky hotels they built in cities before the war, but it they put it out here in nature where things haven’t gone to hell. There’s nothing else like it.”

“I should go in,” he continued, “But I don’t want to steal all your thunder. They’d go wild if they saw me after all these years.”

“It’s okay Uncle Bobby,” Eric said, suppressing a smirk, “We shouldn’t just ride your coattails.”

“Darn right,” his uncle said, the flattery succeeding, “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps, just the way I did. But if you do run into any trouble just mention my name, I’m sure it will smooth over everything.”

“That’s good advice,” Eric said politely. “Thank you so much for the ride, Uncle Bobby. We had a great time. Abby appreciates it too.”

Bobby looked back to his silent niece. “Sure she did. Did that niece of mine say anything the entire ride?” he asked.

Abby shook her head no, smiled, then got out of the car under the massive stone canopy at the lobby entrance where Bobby had parked the Cadillac. She stretched her long arms and gave her uncle an impish smile.

“Well!” Bobby said, “Didn’t know we had a mime in the family. You get her to talk by the end of this summer, you hear me, Eric?”

“Yes sir, I will,” his nephew said, getting out and heading to the trunk to unload their luggage, “I’ll have her talking your ear off on the ride home. And thanks again for the ride, Uncle Bobby.”

“I can’t believe you made me listen to Hall & Oates,” Abby said to her brother as she watched the embarrassment of a Cadillac drive away. “She’s a maneater, watch out boy she’ll chew you up,” she sang in a raspy contralto, and then made a gagging sound. “That was cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Hey I covered for you for three whole hours, you didn’t have to say a word,” Eric said, “I think I deserve a medal.”

“Yeah yeah,” Abby said, “Thanks, brother dearest.”

She was wearing a white long-sleeve print shirt with a blue square pattern, her shirt tucked into navy blue pleated pants, in an attempt to look vaguely professional for her arrival at her summer job. This was about as feminine as she was going to get since dresses were out of the question.

“Didn’t you at least enjoy riding in the Caddy?” her brother teased.

“Oh yes,” she said, “With the Computer Command Ride system massaging my butt the whole way? I think Uncle Bobby’s car is smarter than you, Eric.”

Eric smiled. “Add it to the list of things smarter than me. I wonder why he didn’t come in,” he said as they stood around, stretching their legs after two hours in the car. The hotel was open for guests but the summer season had not yet begun, so they had the loading area to themselves.

“An Indian Casino just opened up at Spirit Lake,” Abby said, “Probably the only reason he gave us a ride in the first place.”

Eric smirked. “Oh yes, that makes complete sense,” he said. “Well remember if we run into trouble we just have to mention his name.”

“He’s a legend,” she said sarcastically” I just hope he doesn’t gamble away the Caddy. Then how will everyone know he’s such a big shot?” Abby spoke so freely with just her brother around.

“You shoulda talked like this in the car,” Eric said with a grin.

“Yeah I’d have blown his mind,” Abby said, “I will one day. Believe it or not.” She couldn’t wait for the day, if it actually came. Until then she knew she’d be the shy girl who only talked confidently when she was alone with her twin brother.

They gathered their luggage and went inside. The lobby was a massive high-ceiling hall with exposed wood beams in a dark brown varnish and stone-accented walls in a rustic hunting lodge style. A balcony level stretched around on three sides, and the huge glass rear wall offered the resort’s signature view of the lake. The twins took in the space then followed the signs reading “staff check-in” to a narrow corridor with cheap wood panel walls leading to a fluorescent-lit room where a bored adult supervisor sat behind a cheap folding table. She was a twenty-something pretty blond and her name tag read “Laura Ballard”.

They showed their driver’s licenses and Abby showed her lifeguard certificate. “Oh, so this is the legendary swimmer Abby Frank,” Laura said, “You know we’re very competitive here at Summer Lake. My cousin Nicole is on the women’s team, she has a full ride to Stanford in the fall. She’s expected to make the women’s Olympic team as well.”

Abby smiled awkwardly, but it just turned out to be one-way boasting and Laura hadn’t expected a reply. They signed a few waivers and other forms, then were given information about orientation meetings for their specific jobs. Finally, Laura gave them keys to their respective rooms. She looked bored with them. The twins set off with their luggage.

“I wish we could do a family room, just me and you,” Abby said as they walked to the elevator.

“It would be nice,” Eric said, “But apparently male and female staff can’t share a room even if we’re brother and sister. Besides, it might make people talk like back home.”

“Ew,” Abby said, “Just cause you dote on me and obey my every command doesn’t mean you’re my secret boyfriend. That’s so gross.”

Eric couldn’t help grinning. “Ouch Abby, you really think I’m gross?” he said.

“Oh you’re very handsome, even if you are hefty,” she said, deliberately borrowing Uncle Bobby’s word for Eric’s build to rib him. “And so wonderfully obedient. I know you’d love to be my boyfriend. But I don’t do incest.”

“You just broke my heart,” Eric said, obviously not minding her inappropriate joke. “So I can get a girlfriend of my own here?”

“Well you can try,” Abby said, then got more serious. “Actually I’m sure you can. Why not? It’s summer and we don’t have any relatives around making drama. This could actually be fun if I don’t screw it up.” With her constant need for her brother to negotiate social situations for her, she felt like that was a distinct possibility.

“You won’t,” Eric said warmly. “You might even get a boyfriend of your own.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Abby said. With her big red hair, her height and her athleticism, to say nothing of her abrasive personality, boys tended to view her as a joke, a threat, or a little bit of both.

They went down to the staff level below the lobby, and indeed, it was almost below ground level. There were no windows at all in the maze-like corridors, with garish red carpet and cheap panel ceilings. She had expected that the staff quarters wouldn’t be nearly as fancy as the hotel rooms above, but this was downright dreary. At least it was clean.

“Well, um,” Abby getting serious as they arrived at the door to her room for the summer, “I really couldn’t have done any of this without you, Eric. I’m going to try hard to be social and make friends, and not just use you as a crutch.”

“Use me as a crutch,” Eric said with his usual cheerfulness, which bellied his tough appearance, “Do whatever you need to. We’re going to have a good summer here.”

“I hope so,” Abby said, not sounding convinced. With her unusual appearance and shy facade which hid a funny but caustic personality, she was hardly a natural fit for any teenage social scene, but especially not one at a fancy resort. Still, it was summer in a new setting and she was hoping for a fresh start. She took her brother’s hand to gather some strength before going in to meet her roommate.

Just then the door to her assigned room opened. A short, curvy teenage girl with straight strawberry blond hair and tanned skin stood in the doorway. “Oops, am I interrupting a romantic moment?” the girl said in a playful voice, her ripe body crammed into a tight blue top and pink shorts.

“He’s my brother!” Abby said.

“Ooh, kinky,” the girl said.

Abby was hardly surprised to find herself with no idea what to do in a social situation, but Eric didn’t bail her out this time.

“I’m Lacey,” the stranger said, sticking out her hand. “You must be Abby.”

“I must be,” Abby said, shaking Lacey’s hand in confusion. “I guess we’re roommates.”

“Yep, and you won the lottery ‘cause I’m the best roommate you could have gotten in this whole pop-sickle stand,” Lacey said with a grin.

Abby smiled awkwardly. “This is my twin brother Eric.”

Eric smiled and gave a goofy wave. Abby followed her brother’s eyes as they dipped down quickly to glance at Lacey’s boobs. Well, that was inevitable, she thought.

“Hello Eric,” Lacey said, “You just dropping her off or are you a fellow inmate here too?”

Eric laughed. “I’m here all summer too, landscaping crew,” he said.

“Ah, a bush whacker,” Lacey said. “And what’s your job, Abby?”

“Harassing Eric,” she said, surprising herself at how easily she was talking to this girl, “But this summer I’m a lifeguard too.”

“Cool beans,” Lacey said, “Well I’m a waitress. Not the most glamorous but it pays pretty well if I can pry the tips from the stingy fingers of our dear old guests. And I do mean old.”

Abby smiled. From her childhood memories, she already knew the typical guests at Summer Lake weren’t exactly young. Lacey’s eyes darted away and Abby followed them to where their hallway had a junction with another, and a pretty-boy type with wavy blond hair was standing there eyeing her boobs too.

“Gotta run. I’ll let you two kiss your goodbye,” Lacey said, and Abby rolled her eyes. The short blond girl skipped down the hallway after the boy, leaving them alone.

“Hey, you acted halfway normal in front of a teenage girl,” Eric said.