Chapter twenty
Present
“Ican’t believe it,” Matt says, shaking his head.
“What’s wrong, Daddy? Is it closed?” Brett asks.
“Take a picture of the sign, would you? I want to keep the phone number,” I say. Matt rolls down his window wordlessly and snaps a photo.
“Yeah, baby,” Matt answers in a brave voice. “Looks like they’re all closed up right now. Oh, well. We’ll have to save our visit for another time.”
“Aw, man!” Brett slumps her shoulders. “That stinks.”
I suggest we take her to Polly’s Cottage, a local greasy spoon, counter-seating only diner that’s been a fixture in the area since I was little and serves the world’s best pancakes. The dose of sugar from the fresh maple syrup makes everyone feel a little better, and Polly’s is nostalgic itself, as Matt and I ate there on many a day off in the past. The counter is lined with business cards from locals featuring everything from used and rare comic books to fresh sunflowers to realtors galore. The coffee is hot and plentiful, and the waitress is none other than Polly’s hard-working, 40-something daughter, whose abundant smile is interrupted by a chipped front tooth. The impromptu stop worksas a distraction, and Brett falls asleep on the long ride home, her head slumped down over the middle console in the backseat of my car.
“I think I’m going to call the realtor,” I tell Matt.
“And say what? You’re hardly equipped to purchase a sleepaway camp.”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe I can get access to the camp somehow. I promised Brett I would bring her for a tour. There’s so much I want to show her.”
“I know. She was excited, too.”
“I’ve never really seen her quite that animated, actually. She’s usually pretty reserved. Or anxious,” I say sadly, remembering how it felt to be young and constantly nervous. “It broke my heart to let her down, even if it was by accident.”
“Tell me about it,” he replies. “How do you think I feel? The poor kid’s whole year has been chock-full of disappointment.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Well, I don’t know what I’m going to say to the realtor, but I’ll figure something out. Can you send me the picture you took so I have the number?”
“Okay,” he agrees, pulling out his phone to text it to me.
An idea blossoms. “Hey. Would it be okay if we went to my house instead of yours?”
“Yourhouse?” His face lights up a little.
“Yeah. Do you feel up to it? Because it can wait if you just want to head back home.”
“No, it’s fine. I’d like that, actually,” he replies, and opens his hand, palm facing up, on top of the gear shift. I check to make sure Brett’s still asleep before taking it, letting my fingers settle into the spaces between his, the warmth of his calloused skin swallowing mine, sending a shiver down my back.
Forty minutes later, I pull through the gate at my condo complex and into a covered spot in the parking area.
Matt lets out a low whistle. “This is nice.”
“I’m sorry; did you assume I was living in squalor?” I laugh.
“No, of course not. It’s just a far cry from how you grew up, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s true. I got lucky, though. I bought at a good time when the market was low. I was able to buy in cash because of my mom’s life insurance money plus, like, seven years of working and saving hand over fist because I only had myself to take care of.”
Brett wakes up when I put the car in park. “Where are we?” she asks, groggy.
“We’re at Taylor’s house, sweetie,” Matt answers.
“Yeah, I thought it would be fun for you to come over. Plus, I have something I want to show you.”
The little girl stretches her arms up over her head. “Cool,” she says.
As we walk around the parking lot to the front of my building, Brett takes in the surroundings. “What water is that?” she asks, pointing at the inlet just beyond the manicured landscape.
