Susan Wiggs - Lakeside Cottage

“Yep. My cousins used to dive off it all the time.”

“What about you?”

“Nope.” Aaron’s cheeks reddened, but he didn’t explain further. Kate suspected he couldn’t. He didn’t have the vocabulary to put his emotions into words. Maybe, she thought, just maybe this would be the summer he’d finally swim.

Callie gave the dog a wide berth. “A kayak,” she said, lifting the tarp that covered a long, narrow boat. “You ever go out in it?”

“All the time,” Aaron said, clearly loving the attention. “It’s a two-man, see?”

Despite his refusal to learn to swim, he loved boats and always had. The ferries of Puget Sound, a Zodiac raft, anything that would float appealed to him, bringing him close to the thing he dreaded.

“Maybe we could take it out,” Aaron suggested.

“Of course we’ll take it out,” Kate assured him. She was determined for this to be a fun summer for him even though his cousins wouldn’t be around.

Aaron showed off the kayak, which had been around since powerboats had been banned from the lake years before. Kate stood back and watched him, this boy whose teachers said he was a poor student with poor skills of self-control, as he effortlessly went through the attributes of the boat.

They had never met two strangers in one day, Kate reflected. And certainly they’d never encountered a teenage runaway and a quiet but unexpectedly interesting guy. Now she watched him next to her son, and he was patient and respectful in a way that appealed to her deeply.

Most men she met lost interest as soon as they discovered she had a child, or as soon as they discovered Aaron’s rambunctious nature. So far, this one seemed to be all right with her son’s constant chattering. He seemed to be sensitive to Callie, too, Kate noticed. He gave the girl plenty of space, didn’t ask her a lot of questions.

A sensitive diamond in the rough. Right here on the shores of Lake Crescent. Who knew?

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Kate, she thought. All he did was borrow your ice chest.

Aaron, on the other hand, seemed to have no reservations. “So you want to go kayaking right now, or after dinner?” he asked.

“Maybe another time.”

He was diplomatic, thought Kate. He seemed to sense that you didn’t just paddle out onto a remote glacial lake with a child you’d only just met.

A look of disappointment clouded Aaron’s face. Then Bandit came back from some inexplicable dog’s errand. He was flecked with twigs and sticker burrs and panting hard. Callie scooted away from him again, though she tried to be discreet about it.

“Well,” said Kate. “I need to finish putting things away …”

JD seemed to catch her tone. “I should get going, too.”

“Aw, come on,” Aaron said. “Stick around a while.”

“I’ll see you around the lake,” JD assured him. “Thanks again, Kate. See you, Callie. Take care of yourself.”

She frowned at him suspiciously. “Sure.”

Aaron walked with JD to his truck, bouncing along beside him as if he were a ball and JD was dribbling him. “Hey, guess what? When I was six, I walked the whole Spruce Railroad Trail all by myself.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yep. There are mountain bikes in the shed. Five of them. Want to go mountain biking?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “This is a really cool truck,” Aaron said, speeding ahead, scrambling up over the tailgate. “Is this the Schroeders’ truck?”

“Uh-huh. I’m borrowing it for the summer. The Schroeders live on the East Coast now.”

“Hey, my cousins moved to the East Coast.” Aaron started bouncing again. “All four of them. That’s all I have. Four cousins. No brothers or sisters. You got kids?”

Way to go, Aaron, thought Kate, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

“Nope,” JD said easily, taking his keys out of his pocket.

“You married?”

“Nope.”

“Seeing anybody special?”

“Aaron.” Kate couldn’t take it anymore.

“I was just trying to figure out all the stuff you’d want to know anyway,” Aaron said, then turned again to JD. “If we were in the city, she would Google you on the Internet, but there’s no Internet here.”

“All right, buddy,” she said. “Why don’t you go make yourself useful and stop embarrassing me in front of company.”

He saluted her and sped off, waving to JD.

“Sorry about that,” she said as he got into his truck.

“Don’t worry about it.” He propped his elbow on the window frame. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but he stayed silent for a few beats, staring out across the lake. His arm still rested easily on the edge of the window as though he was in no hurry to leave. “Do you really do that, look people up on the Internet?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“I figure if I need to know something about a person, I just ask.”

“What a concept.”

“Like what about Aaron’s father?”

“I beg your pardon?” She’d heard him perfectly well, but she needed to stall and reel in her thoughts.

“How does he fit into the picture?”

Oh, gosh, she thought. This is Date Talk.

“He doesn’t,” she replied. “Never has.” Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Why do you ask?”

“Why do you think I asked?” He still hadn’t smiled at her, but she caught a glint of humor in his eyes. At least, she thought it was humor.

When he looked at her like that, she felt a tug of … she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Recognition? How could that be? They’d never met before. Had they?

She narrowed her eyes and studied his face. What was it about him? Besides the fact that underneath the scruffy exterior, he had definite potential.

“I think you asked because you’re interested in me,” she said. “Am I right?”

“Lady, a guy would have to be comatose not to be interested in you,” he said, sounding annoyed. Then he started up the truck. The radio station—KXYZ out of Seattle, the only one that came in reliably at the lake—blared news at the top of the hour. He shut it off, gave her a wave and drove away.

She stood looking after him for a long moment. “Then why don’t you look happier about meeting me?” she asked no one in particular.

Each year after she got to the lake, it always took Kate a few days to decompress. She still tended to wake up and spring out of bed, already making a mental to-do list. Back in the city, it was likely to be a lengthy one: her deadlines at work and any number of errands, appointments and notes to herself about Aaron. Looking after her son meant checking his schoolwork, making his lunch and organizing his backpack, driving carpool. After school, the schedule was packed with karate, Cub Scouts, homework and playdates.

Playdates. Now there was a concept, she thought. Sadly, Aaron’s dating life was more successful than her own. Other kids liked him even if their mothers thought he was a terror.

On their third morning at the lake, she got up and put the kettle on for tea. No coffee here. Coffee meant rush hour and work and stress. Tea meant serenity.

She was determined not to rush or to allow herself to get frantic about being jobless. She had a decent income from the Seattle properties. Her father had left her a wonderful legacy. If she was careful, she could get by for a long while without her salary from the paper. What she missed, though, was her identity. Writing defined who she was. She wanted to feel like herself again, producing copy, getting it published.

Stop, she told herself. You’ve got the whole summer to figure this out. Taking a deep breath, she looked out at the lake. Just the sight of it calmed her. Clear and flat as a mirror, the surface of the water reflected the surrounding mountains covered in evergreens, some with tiny veins of snow hiding in the topmost crevices. She checked the temperature—51 degrees at 7:30 a.m. Perfect. Maybe she’d take Aaron and Bandit for a hike later.