SUMMER FEVER

10 | THEN

SUMMER VAN DOREN
13 years ago

The Van Doren estate was the setting for one of our grandest garden parties. These events were always a big deal, with elegant tables set up on the lawn, twinkling fairy lights, and the laughter of adults mingling with the sound of clinking glasses.

"Summer, come here, sweetheart," Mom called from her room. She looked beautiful in a flowing blue dress that matched her eyes. "Let me fix your hair."

I ran over, my white dress fluttering around me.

Mom knelt down, her fingers deftly weaving my hair into a neat braid. "You look like a little princess," she said, smiling, but I could see a flicker of something in her eyes—was it worry?

"Thanks, Mom," I said, twirling to make my dress flare out. "Is everyone coming today?"

"Yes, almost everyone," she replied, her smile fading just a bit. "Remember to be polite and say hello to all our guests, okay?"

I nodded eagerly. I loved these parties—the food, the music, the energy. The estate was transformed into a magical place with lanterns hanging from the trees and tables covered in white linen.

Guests began to arrive, and I darted among them, greeting familiar faces. Mr. and Mrs. Astor, Mom's close friends, were among the first to arrive. Mrs. Astor, with her fiery red hair and kind smile, gave me a hug.

"How's my favorite little lady?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling.

"Good! How are you, Mrs. Astor?" I asked, bouncing on my toes.

"Oh, busy as ever," she laughed. "But I wouldn't miss one of your mom's parties for the world."

As more guests arrived, I noticed a few unfamiliar faces. One man in particular caught my eye. He was tall, with dark hair and a stern expression, and he seemed to be watching everything very closely.

I tugged on Mom's dress. "Mom, who's that man over there?"

Mom glanced over and her smile tightened. "That's Mr. Gabriel Lukacs. He's... an old friend of the family. Don't worry about him, darling. Why don't you go play with the other children?"

I remembered him from the funeral a year ago. I was pretty sure it was Yves's dad. They looked very similar too, the black hair, green eyes and the same chiseled features.

I nodded, but something in her tone made me uneasy. Still, I ran off to find my friends. We played hide-and-seek in the garden, our laughter ringing out as we darted among the rose bushes and hedges.

As the day went on, I noticed that Mr. Lukacs kept to himself, rarely engaging in conversation. He seemed more interested in watching the other guests, his eyes sharp and calculating. At one point, I saw him talking to Dad in hushed tones. Dad's face was serious, and he kept glancing around as if to make sure no one was listening.

I went to the porch and took a seat. I saw Mom talking to Mrs. Astor. They were standing close together, their heads bent in conversation. Mrs. Astor's face was full of concern, and she kept glancing over at Mr. Lukacs.

"Dahlia, you need to be careful," I heard Mrs. Astor say. "He's not here for a social visit."

"I know, Gillian," Mom replied, her voice tight. "But what choice do I have? He's already too involved."