Page 74 of Barefoot Lake

“She came to see me on Halloween, asking for advice about your dumb ass, so I’d like to know what you did to fix things.”

I blink at him stupidly. She asked about me? Obviously now I know I’d been on her mind, but hearing how she went out of her way to talk to Grateful Bob about me makes me feel a certain kind of way.

I don’t realize Grateful Bob is still waiting for me to answer until he says, basically growling at me, “Boy, you did fix it, didn’t you? Because I heard you two were buying hardware yesterday, and if you didn’t…”

The threat at the end of that sentence doesn’t need to be spoken. Also, how did he make “buying hardware” sound so scandalous?

There’s a good chance this man might kick my ass.

Alarmed by Grateful Bob or not, I still feel myself flush scarlet, thinking of my post “fixing it” activities with Alice.

“I— uh— Yes. Things are good with Alice.”

He narrows his eyes at me, scrutinizing my face. I lean away, just a bit afraid of this old man. He’s not about to let me off as easily as Hannah did.

“And you intend to…” He gestures like he’d like me to finish the sentence.

“Make her as happy as I can for as long as I can.” It’s an easy answer.

His face stays serious as he nods.

I’m holding my breath. Is this where I die? In a bakery-slash-bookstore?

He cracks a smile, and a wave of relief washes over me.

“You’re a good one, Jakey.” He pats my knee. “That’s what I told her, too.”

Hannah calls my name from the counter, and I look up to see her holding up my box of donuts. I’m extremely grateful for her timing, so maybe Grateful Bob won’t see the fear in my eyes. I just need a second to fix my face.

I set my coffee in the chair’s armrest cup holder and retrieve my donuts.

I return to Grateful Bob’s chair but stand beside it, tapping a finger against the side of the box in my hands. Before this conversation, Grateful Bob had always been a good source of support and advice. Unlike Eli, he’s a commitment man. He was married for decades. And while he’s a gossip about trivial stuff, we’ve always had an understanding about my need for privacy.

“Could I…” I hesitate, hoping he’s not about to bite my head off. “Could I actually ask for advice about Alice?”

He pats the chair I’d been sitting in. “Have a seat, kid.”

I sink down, slouching in the chair.

“I think she might leave,” I mutter.

“Might?”

“Plans to,” I correct.

“I’m sure you know she works at a college back in Boston. She said she has to go back for the spring semester. Her leave was just for fall. I was avoiding her when she first got here because I figured she’d leave soon enough, so it’s not like her plans to go back are a surprise. But now that things are good, I don’t know what it means for us. Is this just it?”

“Have you asked her about it?”

“Not yet. Things are… new. I don’t want to jump the gun or overstep.”

“Asking isn’t overstepping. It’s communicating.”

“I know. I just —” I look down.

“Go on…”

“I love Scott, and you know I don’t regret any of the choices I made for him.”