He told himself to stop that. His mother had always said that when you love someone, you accept them as they are. You don’t say, “I love you, now change everything about yourself.”
He checked his cell phone, saw that he had some emails from his family and took the time to answer them. He told them he was doing well, and yes, he was holding up in Stacy’s absence. As he was about to leave, he tried to resist, but he couldn’t help looking again at the text Kit had sent. Ask Della about Leslie.
Even though Nat
e wanted nothing to do with Kit’s mysteries, he remembered some of the gossip he’d been told yesterday. Several people had stopped by the shop while he was cleaning it and one of the people they’d talked about was Della Kissel. She was the youngest daughter of the family who had once owned the lake and the surrounding land. Word was that she was a very nosy little woman who snooped into everything about everyone. Something that was interesting was that no one had said she was a liar. She just seemed to listen and observe and repeat. Endlessly repeat.
As Nate got into his car, he stopped. Was it his imagination that Terri had frozen at the mention of a flower shop? Of course not, he told himself. He’d spent too many years working with people who had secrets on top of secrets—and more buried beneath them.
By the time he got to Club Circle he was smiling—but he lost it when he saw three kids sitting on a bench in the shade doing nothing but swinging their legs. To his left were four older, Lauren-clad boys with a brand-new boat and motor, and it looked like they had no idea what to do with it.
Nate stood there for a moment, looking from one group to the other. For the most part, the people who had stopped by the shop were retired men who desperately wanted to tell Nate that they used to “be somebody.”
An idea began to take shape in his mind. But first, he wanted to do something about the idle kids. In the trunk of his car was some sports equipment, mainly balls for soccer and rugby. In front of the big clubhouse was an area of lawn, well kept and lush. It was not meant to be a sports field.
Too bad, Nate thought as he kicked a soccer ball into the middle of the field. When all the kids stopped moving and stared at him, Nate began to smile.
* * *
“Come on!” Terri yelled at Nate. It was early afternoon and she was standing up in her boat, wearing her yellow slicker, a waterproof hat pulled down over her face. The rain was starting to hit hard.
Nate was on the dock, three soccer balls in his arms, and blinking against the rain.
Terri waved her arms at him to get in the boat.
Nate motioned toward the parking lot and his car, but Terri shook her head. When Nate still stood there, water beginning to run off his nose, she pointed to her open mouth, then rubbed her stomach. He pretended that he didn’t know what she meant.
“Food!” she yelled.
With a half grin, Nate nodded in understanding, dropped, then kicked the balls under the overhang of a building.
“Funny!” she said as he got into the boat and she took off.
The rain was coming down harder and Nate was getting drenched, but he held his face up to it and wiped his hands over his head. He was using it as a shower.
“Get down!” Terri shouted.
When it came to shouted warnings, Nate was well trained. Instantly, he flattened out, his chest on the wooden seats.
Terri bent and the next second they went under a steel fence that stretched from one piece of land to another. She slowed the motor as they entered a narrow spit of water. On both sides were stairs leading to houses that could barely be seen through the pounding rain.
As soon as she reached the dock, Nate got out and did a perfect cleat hitch to tie the boat in place.
Terri followed him and they ran up the stairs.
At the top was a house, all cedar and glass. Terri ran to a small porch, pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked the door.
Inside, they stood in a puddle as she removed her slicker and hat. Nate was so wet he made her laugh. “Stay there and I’ll get you a towel.” She went down a hall.
Nate remained by the door, but he could see through to the front with its big glass windows looking out at the water. The rain was beating down hard, making a misty fog that seemed to enclose them.
The interior of the house was too “designed” for his taste. The part of the living room he could see had white couches and chairs, with white pillows that glistened like they were made of silk. It wasn’t the kind of room where you could drink beer and eat nachos with your friends while you watched a football game.
“Here.” Terri held out a stack of clothing and towels. “These belong to Greg, who owns the house. He’s about a hundred pounds overweight so they should fit you.”
“Was that a slam?”
“Just a fact.” She was smiling. “Don’t take a step off the welcome mat. These floors are... I don’t know what they are, but I make sure they stay dry.”