the second the perfume hits her, lake knows. before she fully registers the voice, before she processes the red dress, before bobby is being physically redirected out of the conversation. she knows. for years, caroline foster had existed more as an idea than a person: foggy memories, handful of old photographs, stories that changed depending on who was telling them, questions nobody could answer.
and now she was standing right in front of her. real, and breathing, and here. lake goes to give her mother a hug, despite the confusion muddling her thoughts, but she feels summer's grip tighten around her arm and doesn't pull away. doesn't move at all, actually afterwards. she just stares, taking in every detail. the familiar blonde hair. the confidence. the smile. the sheer audacity of showing up to a wake dressed like that. the worst part? lake doesn't hate it. it's a good look, honestly. if lake wasn't having so much anxiety about being watched while she was grieving she would have probably thought to add a pop of colour herself. all of this black and grey just felt so ... blah.
summer's voice cuts through the moment immediately. sharp and angry. rightfully deserved, so lake doesn't interrupt. doesn't defend caroline, doesn't stop Summer from saying every single thing she's earned the right to say. but she doesn't join in either. for once, she's not entirely sure she knows how. her gaze remains fixed on caroline. studying her. trying to find traces of herself in the woman standing across from them, trying to figure out if she feels what she's supposed to feel. anger? resentment? hatred? they're all there, sure. somewhere buried beneath years of questions and years of wondering and years of imagining what she'd say if this moment ever happened.
and now that it's here, her mind has gone completely blank. because out of every possible reunion she had imagined over the years, none of them involved a funeral home. for the first time since she'd appeared, lake finally tears her gaze away, looking briefly toward summer then back again. and despite herself, despite the anger and confusion and hurt tangled together inside her chest, one question keeps circling her mind: why now?
" um, can we maybe go somewhere a little more private if we're gonna do this? " lake's voice is soft, but clear enough to cut through the tension steadily building between them. she's not not on summer's side. how could she be? summer had every right to be furious, every right to yell, every right to demand answers from the woman who'd disappeared and left her to raise a child while she was barely more than one herself. but lake would be lying if she said she felt the same anger. or at least, she didn't feel it yet.
mostly, she felt overwhelmed and painfully aware that the entire funeral home was pretending not to watch them. without waiting for an answer, lake turns and starts toward the back door. if this conversation is going to happen, and clearly it is, she'd rather not have half of sedona listening in.
as she passes bobby, however, she catches the older man's eye when he gives her a sympathetic smile, a supportive wink, and a low, almost imperceptible, ' good luck. ' lake immediately groans. " yeah, thanks. " then, leaning in just enough to keep the comment between them, she whispers, " at least if summer decides to put mom six feet under, we're already at the cemetery. we'll save on gas. " the joke earns a snort from bobby and, admittedly, makes her feel marginally better. only marginally, because as she steps out into the backyard and the door swings shut behind her, the reality of the situation settles back in.
for the first time in years, she is standing in the same place as both her mother and her sister, and suddenly she's not entirely sure what happens next.
