“I agree. The boy needs structure. Reading between the lines, the last few months have been anything but.” The cook bustled out of the kitchen, returning with an armful of ski jackets and snow pants. “I suppose if Quinn goes, she has her own snow pants and ski jacket.”
“Maybe I should start carrying mine around in my car,” Morgan said.
“You could also add a bag of kitty litter.”
“Kitty litter?”
“In case your car gets stuck in the snow. You put it under your tires to help give you traction.”
“I’ve never heard that before in my life. I’ll have to buy a bag.”
The door flew open, and a whirlwind, also known as Tristan, raced into the room. “We’re going snowmobiling.”
Brett appeared moments later. “I don’t think Tristan is excited,” he kidded.
“Is Quinn going with us?”
“She’s on her way and should be here soon.”
“How long will you be gone?” Mrs. Arnsby asked.
“A couple of hours. We’ll head out through the back of the property and take the power lines to the other side. I promised Morgan we wouldn’t hit the trails, which are a little trickier to navigate.”
“Can I take a snack with me in case I get hungry?” Tristan asked.
The cook ruffled his hair. “This is one powerful eating machine. I don’t know where Tristan puts it, but I would like to know his secret.”
“He doesn’t sit still,” Brett said. “At least he’s not sitting in front of the television playing video games.”
“Mom would let me play games, but only for an hour a day.”
“How do two crustless PB&Js, sliced apples, banana chips and fruit juice sound?”
“I can eat all of it.”
In the blink of an eye, Mrs. Arnsby had packed a lunch sack with the listed items and added a slice of Tristan’s new favorite—leftover carrot cake.
“Aunt Morgan says I’m the carrot cake kid,” Tristan told Brett. “Cuz I thought it was gross until I tasted it. She paid me five dollars.”
“Five dollars to try one of my favorite cakes?” Brett’s smile grew wider. “I think I know who came out on the better end of the deal.”
The back door slammed, and Quinn appeared. “Sorry if I’m late.”
Brett gave her a quick kiss. “You’re not late. Besides, we’re not in a hurry. Mrs. Arnsby was packing snacks for Tristan.”
“Are we going to be gone for a while? I thought it was only for a couple of hours.”
“Tristan is a growing boy and burns more calories in a day than I burn in a month, so we’re keeping his engine firing on all cylinders,” Morgan said.
Her brother clapped his hands. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get this show, or in this case, the snowmobiles on the road.”
While Tristan dressed in his warm winter gear in record time, the adults took a little longer to suit up.
After finishing, they crossed the driveway and found two sleek, shiny black snowmobiles parked alongside the garage, ready to ride.
Ben appeared. “Where are you headed?”
“To the other side of the island.” Tristan patted the handlebar. “Do you think we can drive on the lake?”
