Page 4
Archer’s chest tightened again, but this time, he didn’t give himself a moment to breathe. “Who is it, Dad?”
His father’s eyes went soft, the creases of his mouth dipping into a frown. “Tea.”
Tea.
Archer rolled his jaw and fixed his gaze out the back screen door, to the rough waters and the gray skies. Rough and wild, the perfect day to be out on the water. She would agree.
“When’s she getting here?” he asked, the curt, cold nature of his words a poor reflection of the way he was spiraling on the inside.
“Tonight.”
“Did she quarantine?”
“For two weeks, alone in her apartment in Chicago.”
Archer wondered if his use of alone was on purpose. Making a point that she was with no one else.
He turned away from his father and strode back to his desk, plopping down in his chair. “We’ll see about that. Tell her to get tested before she arrives.”
“Archer…”
“Or she’s not allowed in.”
Astor sighed. “Are you going to come over for dinner tonight? Your mother’s making tater tot hotdish.”
Absolutely not. “I’ll let you know,” he grumbled, tapping the trackpad on his laptop, hoping it was enough of a sign to be left alone.
After a heavy sigh near the door, it was.
Archer leaned his elbows on his desk, then winced at the pressure. He grumbled, placing his forehead back down on the desk, allowing himself another ten minutes of blissful oblivion before he returned to work.
Archer was too preoccupied with adding a chain to the dumpsters to notice the matriarch of Wild Pines approaching him. It didn’t give him enough time to hide.
“Archer, dearest!”
He groaned to himself, then plastered on the best smile he could as he turned around, stepping back to meet the required social distance. “Hi, Sandy, how are you today?”
Sandy Vanderberg had been a resident of Wild Pines for longer than he’d even existed. She was the first to buy Cabin C before anyone else in the resort, and refused to make any renovations on it except for necessary updates like heating, air conditioning, and plumbing. Her relic of an oven took twice as long to cook anything, and she let everyone know how miserable it made her. Even though she refused to replace it because it was “still in good condition” and “what’s the point in replacing something that works?” Her husband Joel tuned her out during these rants, but his hearing miraculously improved whenever Wayne Richards called over the lawn asking him to go fishing.
Her nickname started out as a joke during their annual Fourth of July party almost a decade ago, when Austin got a little too drunk and proclaimed Sandy as the resort’s “matriarch.” Sandy didn’t even pretend to hate it. She liked the attention, especially when it came from Archer’s older brother. He was the charming, charismatic one, and everyone preferred him.
Her brows knitted together, nose squinted in disgust. “What are you doing over here near the dumpster?”
“I’m trying to bear-proof it,” Archer said.
“Bear proof?! Are there bears?”
“There have been some reports of bears in the area, yes. Have you not been getting the emails from the Silver Falls Lake Association?”
“I never touch my computer. It scares me.”
“Okay, well, you might need to do so before the owners’ meeting—”
“About that.”
He sighed. He knew what was coming. They’d had the same argument at least three times now.
“Is it really necessary to have it outside? My cabin is perfectly clean and spacious…”
