She shakes her head adamantly. “No dice. If he can’t do it, we don’t go. That’s final.” Digger opens his mouth, but she cuts him off. “If he can’t do it, it will be a tough lesson, but it’s one he’s going to have to learn. Better now while he’s young, than later.”
“The kids don’t ask for a lot, Moira,” Digger tells her. “Let us help give them this. Besides, I think a break from your regular life will be good for you, too.”
“I’m not budging, Digger. And I don’t want to hear anything more about it.” She picks up her beer and takes a long pull, then gives me a look that lets me know I screwed up. Moira Bishop is one tough woman in an even tougher position in life.
Chapter11
Moira
“Girl, if you slam that coffee pot down one more time, it’s gonna shatter,” Abigail says, calling me out on my intensity which, to be honest, is on the extreme side today.
“Have you ever had someone determined to interfere with your life who has no place doing so?” I spin around and demand.
We’ve just finished the morning rush and there are no customers in urgent need of anything, so she sits down at the counter. “Who’s butting into your business now? If it’s that Sissy Sinclair again, I’d be happy to arrange a tire slashing incident.” Sissy’s hatred of me is well known around town.
My eyebrows raise toward my hairline. “You’d commit a crime for me? I’m touched.”
“Better yet”—she rests her elbows on the counter—“I’d commit a felony. Who needs whacking?”
A burst of laughter escapes me. “You know that guy Ethan, who’s been in here a couple times?”
“The good-looking lawyer with a butt you could bounce a quarter off?”
“I don’t know about the butt, but yeah, that’s him.” Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I explain, “He was over helping paint my kitchen on Saturday, and he offered to let the kids and me stay at his house in LA if Wyatt’s baseball team can sell enough raffle tickets to win a trip there, and if Wyatt can make enough money for airfare.”
“The fiend!” She slaps her hands on the countertop so loudly I jump. “He painted your kitchen and then dared make you a generous offer?” She pretends to scribble something on her notepad and jokes, “I’ll have him removed from Alaska within the hour.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not explaining myself very well. First off, I do know it was very kind of him to help with the painting this weekend and I am grateful. But, while he, Harper, and Digger were there, this whole thing about the baseball trip came up. I’d already told Wyatt that even if his team won the competition, we didn’t have money for him to go see the Dodgers. I hoped that would put the matter to bed, but it didn’t.”
After a big sigh, I conclude, “Instead, everyone seemed hell bent on making me eat my words. First, Ethan offered to put us up at his house, then Digger said that he and Harper would pay. When I said no, he offered to give my determined son enough work at the lodge to get him the money that way.”
Abigail takes a sip of water before saying, “You do realize that by its very definition, family is there to help. I mean, where would Danny and I be if my parents hadn’t given us the down payment for our house?” Before I can answer, she says, “We’d still be renting. Do you think we even once thought about saying no?” Shaking her head like she’s successfully engaged her inner propeller, she adds, “We did not.”
“Yeah, but that’s yourparents.That’s different.”
“Your parents are gone, so you don’t get any help from them. Why shouldn’t you take it where you can get it?”
“It’s one thing to let Digger help, but I’m not looking for handouts from strangers.” I’m sticking to my guns on this one.
Pushing off the stool, Abigail says, “The man rented a room from you last year for a week and he’s your soon-to-be sister-in-law’s best friend. He’s not a stranger.”
Wouldn’t you know it, the door opens and Ethan strolls into the diner. I wondered when he’d planned to start his booth rental. I don’t work Sundays, so I don’t know if he came in yesterday, but he’s here now.
“Morning!” Abigail calls out. “Sit wherever you’d like, and I’ll be right over to get your order.”
I try to look busy refilling sugars while whispering to Abigail, “He’s going to rent a booth here to write a novel. I’m not sure he’s going to be eating a lot.”
She nods her head. “Either way, I bet he could use a cup of coffee.” She picks up the pot and walks over to the table where Ethan has set up shop. He’s sitting on the side that’s facing me which is more than a little uncomfortable. How in the world am I going to go about my business day in and day out with him here?
After ten minutes or so, I realize that I need to go over and say hello. The man did work at my house all day on Saturday. The very least I owe him is a pleasant work environment. Putting a blueberry muffin onto a plate, I pick up the coffee pot and walk over to him. “Good morning, Ethan, how are you today?”
He looks up from his keyboard. “I was wondering if you were going to say hello.”
He could have just as easily said hello to me, but I don’t point that out. “Sorry, I was doing some side work to prepare for the lunch rush.”
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks while adding a sugar packet to the coffee I just poured.
“I’m not mad at you,” I lie. “I’m mad at my son who won’t take no for an answer.”