Page 3 of Fishing for Keeps

He entered us. Months before he died, he put my name on that line, like maybe if it was official, this would finally be the summer I came.

I cried in the kitchen for a while about that one.

Then I did something insane. I drove to town, walked into the community center, and asked the woman at the desk if the entry was still good.

"Honey," she said, looking at the form, "for Gus? It's paid up and everything. You just need a new Angler Two."

Which is a problem, because not only do I not know any fishermen, but I also cannot fish. I hold a rod like it’s a gun that might go off. The last fish I caught, I was nine, and Grandpa did ninety percent of the work while telling me I was a natural.

That's what I'm chewing on when I stop into Lake Mercury Bait & Tackle for ice, and the woman behind the counter takes one look at me and says, "You're Gus's granddaughter."

I blink. "How does everyone—"

"You have his chin. And his boat's at the marina and Mercury Ridge has no secrets and Trent might’ve mentioned you were in town." She sticks out her hand. "I’m Dani. Your grandpa bought his crickets. I'm sorry for your loss. Also, the good ice is in the back."

Within ten minutes, Dani knows everything. The cottage, the selling, the derby form, my name in his handwriting. She has also introduced me to two women who came in for cold drinks—Rayna, who has flour on her T-shirt and the warmest smile I've ever seen, and Chrissy, sun-browned with a braid down her back—and all three of them are now looking at each other over my head in a way I don't fully trust.

"You have to fish the derby," Rayna says. "You have to. I have chills."

"I can't fish," I admit.

"So, you need a partner who can," Chrissy says. "Someone who knows the lake. Someone with time on his hands. Someone fun."

"Someone," Dani says, "like Trent."

"The boat rental guy?" I say. "I just met him. He's fixing Grandpa's motor."

The look the three of them exchange could power the entire town.

"He's fixing your motor," Rayna repeats, delighted, like it's evidence in a trial.

"For pizza," I say, which for some reason makes it worse.

"Thursday pizza," Dani says, pointing at me. "At Mercury Slice. You're coming. I’ll bring you.” She says it like it’s not optional.

I open my mouth to say I really shouldn't, that I have baseboards to paint and a realtor to call and a life waiting to be restarted somewhere that is not here.

"Okay," I say instead.

Because here's the thing I keep not saying out loud: I’ve been in Mercury Ridge four days, and half this town already knows my name. The old man who fishes off the marina dock every evening waved at me this morning like we're friends. And when Dani said Gus, she said it soft, the way you say the name of somebody you miss.

I spent all spring grieving him alone in a city where nobody knew him.

Here, everybody does.

You're leaving in a few weeks, I remind myself, loading the good ice into my trunk. Don't get attached.

The lake glitters at me through the trees like it's laughing.

Chapter Three

Trent

Thursday pizza at Mercury Slice is sacred, and tonight the whole congregation showed up.

Joel and Rayna are on one side of the table, Rayna hopping up every ten minutes to help at the pickup window even though she's off shift. Ace and Chrissy are wedged together on the bench like a two-person unit. Forrest has his arm across the back of Aileen's chair while she explains something about fish populations that only Forrest could look that in love about. Liam's next to me, working his way through his usual half a pepperoni pie.

And I keep watching the parking lot.