“Thank you!” I squeal, squeezing her around the middle and bunching the back of her overall straps.
The man behind the counter turns around, and I study his face. His lips angle down at the corners, and his eye don’t hold the usual shine you’d find in someone who says, “Can I help you find anything?”
He looks familiar, but I can’t place him until his three-foot-tall coworker emerges from behind his wader-covered legs.
“Miles!” I exclaim, running over to where he stands.
He looks like a mini version of his dad from his long, lanky body to his matching fishing gear.
“I thought I was going to miss you this morning. Look what I’m getting for tadpole-hunting.” I dangle the water shoes fromthe string they’re held together by with the tip of my pointer finger.
“I forgot to tell you I have to work with my dad at his shop sometimes. And you aren’t going to want to get those. They stick to the bottom of the lake,” Miles says.
“Oh,” I say, caught by surprise.
I think it over and then turn to put them back. If my mom thinks they’ll be too big, and Miles thinks they aren’t any good for the lake, then they’re not for me.
The man slaps a hand on Miles’s shoulder.
“Well, that’s not how we get a sale, son. I guess I haven’t been doing as good of a job teaching you as I thought.”
He chuckles, and it’s the first time I’m seeing this man’s eyes smile. They’re warm and inviting and make me wonder why this side of him got hidden away until now. He wanders over to where my dad is hunched over, thumbing the tags of an empty display case, his eyebrows morphed into one solid shape.
“Can I help you find something, sir?” Miles’s dad asks.
“Google told me you had a hardware section,” my dad starts to say, holding up his phone to show him just like he did with my mom. Like the guy doesn’t have a clue what he sells in his own shop.
“Oh yeah, don’t believe everything you read on the internet.” He chuckles.
My dad’s a smart guy, but the only technology-adjacent thing he can claim to be good at is his architecture software. He likes technology, but technology doesn’t exactly like him. I had to help him turn on the satellite TV last night at the cabin. Cozy has one back at home, and you press theSatbutton first before theOnone.
“I guess not.” My dad chuckles again, tucking his phone back in his cargo pants pocket.
“How about you tell me what you’re looking for, and I can help you out,” the man suggests.
“Oh, just a few hinges and three-inch screws. The screws are stripped on the kitchen cabinets at our new cabin.”
“Ah.” He nods his understanding. “I take it we’re neighbors, given our kids are already fast friends.”
His eyes roam to where Miles and I stand together, then he offers his outstretched hand to my dad, who straightens and shakes it.
“Welcome to Bear Lake. Shepard Bishop, owner of the not-hardware store.”
“Nice to meet you, Shepard. We’re the Fletchers. I’m Archie. This is my wife, Birdie”—he wraps his arm around her shoulders and squeezes—“the one who keeps me in line. And yes. It seems our daughter, Teddy, has become quite fond of youradventurousson in the last twenty-four hours.”
What?The color drains from my face.
Why did he have to say that?
“Seems like the perfect place you got here.” My dad changes the subject. “Even if it doesn’t have a hardware section.”
“My father always told me, if you do something you love, you’ll never have to work a day in your life. It’s what got this business off the ground. And now, I think I have something that might help you, if you want to follow me behind the counter,” Shepard says, leading the way.
My dad trails after him, and they crouch down where I can’t see them, the whirring sound of a drill buzzing against the wall between us.
“No wonder you’re good at hunting tadpoles. You work in a fishing store,” I comment to Miles.
His mouth tips up on one side as if he appreciated my compliment, and it’s the most heartwarming smile I’ve ever seen.
