Lily's Summer of Precarious Happenings

Chapter Four

A warm glow ignited my skin, trailing up my arm and bursting into brilliant light on my face.  I groaned and stretched, aware in my half-conscious state that I still occupied the bed that felt like a thousand clouds but was still far too large for me.  

So last night hadn't been a dream.

Maybe I could do some quick maneuvering and avoid Kennedy until she got amnesia and forgot everything she saw.  Or maybe she suffered from short-term memory loss.  Whichever came first, I guessed.

I looked out the window of my room, gazing at the ocean below.  Although I would never not feel ridiculous in a room like this, that view would always be my favorite.  

A soft knock on my door, and it cracked open to reveal my Aunt, who had her eyes squeezed shut.  

"Are you decent?  There's no boys hiding in here?" 

I laughed and propped myself up on some pillows, "It concerns me that you would say boys, plural."

She smiled giddily and looked at me, opening the door fully to lean against the doorframe.  "Hey, you never know.  If you're any bit as wild as your mom was in high school-"

"Ah," I put my hand up, "Not something I would like to have in my head, thank you."

My Aunt laughed with a clap of her hands, "You're probably right.  I came to remind you that breakfast is downstairs!  If you'd like to eat with me, I'm about to." 

I made my commute out of bed, finally landing on my feet and following my Aunt from my room to the kitchen.  I had vaguely remembered what the route was, but decided as long as my Aunt was still waking me up for breakfast it wouldn't be a concern.

"So, did you have a good night?"  She wiggled her eyebrows as she poured herself a cup of coffee.  

I plopped down on a kitchen island stool, picking up a piece of bacon from the overly-accommodating spread before me.  "It was weird."

"Don't tell me you're one of those teenagers that speaks in riddles."

"No, sorry."  I chewed on some more bacon, "I don't really know how to explain it."

"Well, I hope Kennedy helped you get some nice clothes to wear." 

"She did.  I'll probably have to leave them here when we go back home; I can't see myself wearing them in Wisconsin."  My eyes floated over the various overflowing plates adoring the marble counter, and I plucked a mini pancake up and ripped into it.  She sipped her coffee, watching me with an expression that told me there was something she wasn't saying. But I barely knew her, so I could have been wrong.

"And what are your plans for today?"

I hoped my face hadn't turned bright red.  "I think I'm going to... lay low.  What is Uncle Oliver doing today?"

"Oh, you know," She motioned with her hand, "The usual.  Somebody's job has to pay for this house."

"I never asked, what do you do?"

Aunt Imogen leaned against the counter, tapping her fingers before deciding on a piece of fruit.  "I'm a writer.  A novelist, if you will.  Not exactly the most steady paycheck."

"That's amazing!"  I also grabbed a cube of cantaloupe, "Why wouldn't you tell me?  I love to read."

"I know, I just don't like to speak of it," She seemed to have taken to the fruit, slowly picking it over as she spoke, "I like people to pick up my books from their own fruition.  Ha, fruition.  Fruit!" She held up a grape.