"Tell him to leave."

Quick to sweep her phone up from where it lies atop the white wooden dresser, Stella takes it off speakerphone. Granted, her bedroom door is closed and Jake is still downstairs, but the last thing she needs is for him to overhear one of his supposed best friends speak of how he should get lost.

"I cannot tell him to leave, Faye," She half-whispers, phone pressed between her shoulder and ear as she shimmies into a light blue denim skirt. "It's his house."

"Do you need me to tell him to leave?" Her sister asks from her end of the call. "Because if you do, I will."

Regarding herself in the head-to-toe mirror stood in the corner of the room, Stella exchanges an eye-roll with her reflection. "No. Please don't."

"I'm serious Stella; the house is yours for the summer. Geoffrey and Angelina said so themselves."

"Technically, they said it's ours for the summer."

"You know what I mean,"

A beat of silence follows Faye's words, replaced by the sound of fingertips lightly tapping the keys of a laptop.

"Point being: you give the go-ahead and I'll have him out of there faster than you can say 'Grande White Hot Chocolate, two shots of espresso, two pumps of cinnamon dolce syrup with cinnamon-sugar on top',"

A small smile pulls at Stella's lips; she doesn't doubt that.

"No one would blame you if you decided to kick him out, you know," Faye adds gently. Stella presses her lips together, already knowing where this is going. "Even if it's Jake. Things are different now. We all know that."

"It's fine." Stella reassures her sister, sinking into a seat atop the floral sheets of her bed.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she smooths her palm over her knitted sleeveless top. The wide shoulder straps don't exactly do the job of covering the tan-lines etched into her skin from the past decade's summer practices, but it'll do.

"Stella–"

"Really," Stella lets herself fall back against the mattress, changing phone-holding hand. "It's fine."

"What is he even doing there? He's supposed to be clerking at some hotshot firm in Boston."

"I don't know. I came back from a swim and there he was. Golden Retriever and all."

"Golden Retriever?"

"He's dog-sitting, apparently."

A beat of silence passes on the other end of the line and Stella can almost picture her sister lean back in her desk chair, heels up on the table. "Huh."

"Anyways, we're headed out for breakfast now," She says and sprawls her fingers toward the tilted ceiling, regarding the dark-red shade painting her nails. "I guess I'll know more after that."

"At Lottie's?"

"What?"

"Are you going to Lottie's?"

Stella pushes herself back into a seat, twirling a strand of her thick brown hair around her finger. The last time she'd been to Julio – her hairdresser back home – he'd gathered it up in his hands with a sigh and a small shake of his head, spoken of its beauty before clicking his tongue; too bad it's so worn out by all that chlorine.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"God I haven't been there in years," A wistful sigh sounds through the phone with Faye's words. "Remember how we always went there? The place at the corner of Daisy Avenue and Blossom Street? With the heart shaped pancakes!"

Daisy Avenue and Blossom Street?

Really?

Getting to her feet, Stella slips into her pink pair of slip-in sandals. She's about to tell Faye she doubts she's ever been to Lottie's – not for it to have made a significant dent on her brain, at least.

If someone was to drop her in the center of the town hub she probably wouldn't find her way back out. And she definitely wouldn't be able to point a wandering tourist in the direction of Blossom Street.

To Faye, this guest room – with its pale yellow walls and white furniture – is as good as a second home. To Faye and their mothers, this house, this lake, this town is the epitome of summer.

Stella on the other hand, never did have time to stay here long.

Every year, she'd barely begun to unpack her suitcase before it was time for her to leave again. Tied up in her pursuit of becoming a greater, stronger, better swimmer – of becoming the best –, her focus was always somewhere else.

So while the Donahues and the Wilsons have spent more than a decade's worth of summers camped out at the lake house for weeks on end, Stella is as much of a tourist here as those staying at the B&B's in town.

But her older sister sounds so exhilarated as she speaks of Lottie's, that Stella doesn't have it in her to shatter Faye's misconstructed memories. With everything Faye has to carry on her shoulders back in the city, Stella can at least grant her this.

"Oh, yeah. Of course I remember."

"It's cute how after twenty-one years on this earth you still think you can lie to me," Faye muses and Stella's lips quirk up, eyes casting to the beige carpet floor. Another wistful sigh escapes her sister, but there's a joyous tone to her voice as well. "I'm so jealous of you right now."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Madam First Lady – or more commonly called Fizzy, the Golden Retriever – is fast asleep on the hardwood floor, curled underneath their circular table in the bustling quaint café.

Cutting into the stack of heart shaped pancakes before her, Stella's eyes flicker around the room. An older woman moves around it, ruffle-edged apron tied at her waist as she laughs and converses with her costumers. The back of the menu declares her the owner of this place. Lottie.

As Stella and Jake had stepped through the door, hit by a light sweet aroma reminding her of caramel – coffee, pancake batter and the odd addition of sunscreen lingering in the air all melted together, the café had been close to empty but now it's crowded to the brim.

Two men are sat at the bar, deep in conversation over scrambled eggs. The teenaged boy working the counter continues to top off their cups of coffee while simultaneously flashing his blinding smile every other costumer's way; he doesn't seem even the slightest bit phased with the lack of a pause.

Adorned in colorful summer clothes, a few families have taken up the tables on the opposite side of the room. Baby wipes on the ready, toddlers either loudly dissatisfied or knee-deep in pancakes and bowls of yoghurt.

A teenager's sat at the far end of a table, lost in her phone. A pair of siblings are sat next to her, leant on one another as their laughter echoes through the room.

The mismatched seating group of a plush orange couch and two adjacent armchairs – one royal blue and the other a faded pink, is occupied by a group of friends around Stella's age. The furniture shouldn't go well together but somehow they look just right in the otherwise neatly organized space.

Three tables over, a well dressed couple in their forties are bent over a crossword – pens in hands and sunglasses perched atop their heads as they sip their iced teas and exchange mumbled words.

The narrow door swings open and closed, setting off the faint sound of a bell. A small gust of warmth slips into the room alongside a lively woman dressed in denim shorts and a zip-up fleece. Stella recognizes the logo emblazoned on her chest, having seen it outside one of the nearby B&Bs on the short walk from Jake's car to the café.

Brisk in her step, the woman sports a smile as she exchanges a few words with both the older woman and the boy before she's on her way again – paper bag and takeaway cup in hand.

Stella lets her gaze fall to the dog. "She must be the most well behaved dog I've ever met."

As if to attest to her statement, Fizzy doesn't bat an eye as Jake drops a napkin to the floor, not even attempting to investigate the possibility of food having fallen right at her paws.

"That seems unfair to Pep."

A small smile tugs on Stella's lips at the mention of her family's late dog. "Pep was in no way well behaved. That dog would have gladly handed me over to the devil himself for the promise of a treat. May he rest in peace."

Faint amusement flickers over Jake's features as he lifts his cup of coffee in a small toast, having her smile pull back further. She slowly shakes her head, fingers closing around her glass of lemon iced tea. It leaves a damp circle upon the wooden tabletop as she lifts it to her lips.

Setting it back down, her mouth falls into a slight purse as she regards him. "You caught the law-bug."

He shrugs with a hint of that trademark smile she's so familiar with; it's the same as the time he got stuck underneath the stairs when they were kids. A smile that seems to convey something close to guilt while simultaneously being a display of amusement.

"Guilty as charged. I caught the law-bug."

She'd known this. Obviously.

Nothing goes untold when it comes to the Donahues and the Wilsons, but today is the first time Stella's had an opportunity to actually speak to Jake about the fact that he – like their parents before them – has set off on the path to become a lawyer.

She never did go to his graduation. Neither of his graduations, really. Both times she'd been away in the pursuit of putting her name on the map as a swimmer.

Swimming first. Life second.

Once it had been her turn to walk across a stage in a gown too big, he hadn't been able to be there either, simply shooting her a celebratory text in his wake. Not that he missed out on much. Her family – as well as Angelina and Geoffrey – had promptly taken her out for a celebratory dinner but then she'd been off to bed, having had to fetch an early flight out of the city next morning, headed on yet another endeavor to hone her swimming skills.

The law-bug got to her sister as well, taking shape in Faye's work as a paralegal in the city. Stella seems to be the only one left to catch it; she hopes she never does.

To Jake she says, "It'll suit you,"

Slowly tapping her fingers to her glass, she watches the slices of lemon swirl around inside it.

"I can still hear you urge Faye and I to use our words whenever we get into an argument. Quite the mediator."

"Should probably get out of the habit of quitting jobs then."

"You have integrity," Stella sets her glass down, leaning back on her rickety stool as she lets her gaze linger on Jake. "That's a rarity these days. You'll be able to use that to your advantage, in time."

Ever since they got into his car to drive to the café, they've fallen in and out of conversation and the question of Jake's supposed hotshot clerkship had been one of the first things she'd let fall off her tongue.

Faye had been right, of course. Up until a few days ago, Jake had been working with a firm up in Boston. He'd quit two weeks into it, didn't like the way they went about their business. So he left. And ended up in the lake house.

Though it's been years since she properly spent time with Jake, Stella's not that surprised by his decision. But impressed nonetheless.

"Hopefully," Jake spears a piece of fruit onto his fork. "How's Kelly?"

Stella shovels a piece of pancake into her mouth to suppress a laugh. Her mother's law firm being investigated for fraudulent behavior and collusion shouldn't be found amusing in any way. It's been far from easy these past months, but she can't help the smile playing on her lips.

"Speaking of?"

Jake grimaces, though there's a tug of amusement to the corners of his mouth as well. "Faye says it's bad."

Surprise flickers through her, surely visible on her face as well. While her sister never seems to stop working to keep everything afloat, Stella hasn't ever heard her admit just how dire the situation they're in actually is, not even once.

She nods, picking at her pancakes. "It is, but mom's good. Or well – as good as she can be. But she's pushing through."

"And Andrea?"

"She's...," Stella trails off, mind drifting to her other mother. "She's good. Though, she practically lives at Legal Aid downtown these days."

She doesn't blame her mom for burying herself in work. These past couple of years have been tough; they could all use an escape. A break.

Pressing her lips together, she tries to shrug off the smallest sense of guilt that hovers above her. Sometimes she can't help thinking that if Kelly hadn't been so busy with, so immersed in, Stella's case, she would have noticed what went on right under her nose before it was too late.

And now she's escaped to the lake, leaving them all behind to pick up the pieces. They had wanted her to go – she knows that, but she can't help thinking maybe she should be there to help.

Or maybe she should've been more desperate in her plea to have Faye come with her, unburden her sister of being Faye; of patching together their fort with used scrapes of duct tape, of trying to hold everyone together.

Jake nudges her foot under the table, bringing her out of her thoughts. "Things'll work themselves out."

"Yeah," She says, though she sounds far from convinced. Picking her glass up once more, her gaze falls to the paper airplane Jake's absentmindedly folding out of one of the napkins. He's never been one to be able to sit by idly. "I really hope so."

She lets her gaze travel over the room again in an attempt to let it jug her memory in any way, searching for the memories her sister claims they have here. It doesn't work.

There's nothing familiar about the blue wallpaper, nothing familiar about the set of three shelves lining one of the walls, colorful teapots and ceramic cups stood upon them. Neither the rickety stools lining the tables, like the one she's sat upon.

"I'll get my things and head to Acebridge as we get back to the house."

Stella's eyes snap back to Jake at the mention of his coastal hometown.

"Oh," She lowers her glass, setting it down next to the two circles of condensed liquid it's already left on the tabletop. "You don't have to."

"I don't want to intrude on your summer."

"It's your house – and it's not exactly tiny. You can stay," Stella taps her fingers against her fork where it rests against the edge of her plate. "I imagine you didn't exactly plan on moving back in with your parents this summer."

Hesitance flickers over Jake's features, and she knows – from that brief glance of concern crossing his eyes, that he knows.

Of course he knows.

Nothing ever goes untold between the Donahues and the Wilsons.

"Are you sure?"

Fizzy shifts underneath the table, gently placing her head atop Stella's sandal clad foot to use as a pillow. Stella's eyes cast to the dog, a small smile slipping onto her lips.

She had planned for a quiet summer. A summer to breathe. A chance to be away from everything the past years has brought along. It would be easier to let Jake leave and continue on with her plan.

But though she doesn't recognize this café, and though this small town with its cobblestoned streets is nothing more but a dot on a map to her, the short time she's spent with Jake this morning has made it all feel just a little bit more familiar.

"Stells?"

Taking her eyes off the dog, she glances up at him again and nods once. "I'm sure."

"If you change your mind," Jake begins, "Say the word and I'm out of here."

"You should stay. If you want to – I think you should stay."