“You’re the one who said your dad and I should take a trip. I’m just following your advice.”
“I was thinking about Greece or Spain. You know, places you’ve always wanted to see but have never made time for.”
“Greece and Spain will always be there, but you won’t always be in Alaska.” Then she drops the mother of all bombs. “Plus, you have that nice big house for us to stay in.”
No way are they staying with me. “You have no interest in seeing Alaska. You wouldn’t even accept Harper’s wedding invitation because you were worried you’d die of boredom.”
“We love Harper, but not enough to fly across Canada like some kind of migrating birds. But you, you’re enough reason, Ethan.”
“I live on the other side of Beverly Hills from you, and it’s been months since you’ve last come to my house.”
“That’s because there are so many great restaurants to eat at. Why would I subject myself to your cooking if I didn’t have to?”
“There’s only one diner, and one grocery store in Gamble. And no one serves anything remotely kosher here either.”
“Kosher shmosher. It’s not like your father and I are religious. We’re booked on the six a.m. non-stop flight to Anchorage a week from Thursday. The plane lands at nine twenty-five your time.” Without so much as taking a breath, she adds, “I’m assuming you can pick us up at the airport.”
“It’s a two-hour drive on a dirt road from here.” The road is actually paved, but this is my last chance to get her to back out.
She pauses slightly before saying, “It’ll be an adventure.”
“Mom, please cancel the flight. You’ll hate it here, and I won’t have time to be your tour guide.” I’m desperate for her to acquiesce.
“We’re coming, and that’s final. I’ll text the flight details to you. Now, I have to run. I’m on my way out the door for Pilates. See you in a week.”
“Mom, Mom …” Too late, she’s already gone.
Isaac and Rose Caplan of Beverly Hills are about to descend upon the nice people of Gamble, Alaska, like a sizable earthquake. While I should be thinking of how to best shield the local citizenry from the onslaught heading their way, I’m more concerned about getting a good start on my book. I’m never going to hear the end of it otherwise.
Chapter13
Moira
At twelve noon on the nose, I look out the window to see my three boys jumping off their bikes. They fly into the diner in a cloud of chaos and dust. A chorus of “Hi, Mom” greets me before they spot Ethan. Once that happens, their trajectory shifts, and they hurry to sit down with him.
I walk over and announce, “I don’t think Ethan needs you kids distracting him from his work.”
Ethan has already closed his laptop. He distributes menus to my sons and says, “Nonsense. A man needs to eat.” Then he smiles brightly. “Plus, I told Wyatt I’d help him think of things his team can raffle off.”
“I was thinking we could sell handshakes with Aunt Harper.” Wyatt’s eyes are veritably sparkling with dollar signs.
“I told you that you need to find a way to make money that doesn’t infringe on anyone else.” Plus, everyone in town has already met Harper. They’ve either stalked her at the market or gone to the lodge for a meal. A few have been so bold as to knock on her door. Meeting Harper Kennedy is the only claim to fame most of us will ever have.
“Mr. Sinclair is going to donate a free tune-up to the raffle.” He’s clearly trying to get me to sign up to volunteer for his raffle.
Dammit. It worked because I hear myself say, “I’ll give you a free lunch for two.”
My son scrunches up his face in disappointment. “I thought maybe you’d do free lunches for a month.”
“How about if I raffle off my smart-mouth ten-year-old son?”Put that in your pipe, kid.I don’t wait for him to answer before saying, “Today’s lunch is club sandwiches with fruit.”
Before Wyatt and I can start a full-out battle again, Colton asks, “Can I have french fries with my sandwich? I know you think they’ll ruin my appetite for supper, but I’m starving. Mrs. Turner made us do all kinds of weeding this morning and my breakfast didn’t last as long as it should have.”
“Edna had you weed? Where?” Panic rips through me as I imagine every last flower ripped out of the flower bed.
Ash elbows his brother in the ribs. “It was supposed to be a surprise, you dunderhead.”
“What kind of surprise?” Everyone knows I hate surprises, so I can’t imagine why my neighbor thinks this time will be any different.