“Hmm.” Ginger didn't want to take sides, even if it did sound like Josh might be out of line. “Did he say why?”
“Evidently his father told him he should be out having fun with his friends because there's plenty of time for him to work when he grows up.”
Isabel blew out an angry breath. “I'm going to kill Brian. He feels guilty because he only sees his son a handful of weeks every year and doesn't have a clue how much harder all of his endless generosity makes my day-today. You should have heard Josh last night going on and on about all the 'totally awesome' things he did with his father in the city the past couple of weeks.”
“Must be hard to compete with that.”
“Impossible. So I told Josh he'd better stay or else and you'll never guess what the little shit said?”
Ginger had a pretty good idea what a fifteen-year-old boy might come up with. Especially after working with them for the past months at school.
“He said the only way he was going to stay was if I chained him to the stove. And then he blasted out of here with that girl to go see a movie.”
Ginger leaned on the counter. “I still have nightmares about fifteen. Braces. Bad skin. All I needed was the ponytail and glasses to perfect the look. The extra fifteen pounds didn't help any, either.”
Isabel grunted and Ginger knew she was being no help at all. “What I'm trying to say is that fifteen is a hard age for everyone. And you've got to know that Josh is a great kid. All year up at the school when I was doing art with his class, he was always really polite. Amazingly focused. There was this one kid I almost smacked a couple of times when he repeatedly flicked paint on the-” She realized she was heading off on a tangent and switched back to Josh. “Anyway, compared to some of the other kids, Josh is practically an angel.”
All the fight seemed to go out of her friend. “Thanks for that. It helps to hear that he's not turning into a complete screwup. A lot, actually.”
“You're welcome. I wish I could help more, but without a kid of my own to practice on I'm pretty much just standing here blowing smoke.”
Knowing this was a touchy subject for her, Isabel said, “Oh honey, I shouldn't complain. It's just that days like this make me wish I had a partner in this whole parenting thing. Someone to share the decisions with. To make it all easier. I thought it was hard when Josh was a baby and I was up all night with him, then had to pretend to be a fully functioning human being the next morning. But I'll tell you what — this moody teenager crap is even harder.”
“And totally normal,” Ginger had to remind her.
Isabel nodded. “You're right. If I keep letting the little things get to me I'll be completely out of my mind by the time he goes to college. Remind me to get you five cents out of the tip jar later. Counseling session officially over.”
Ginger hesitated for a moment, even though that was her cue to go to the storage room to hang up her bag and change into her black pants and button-down shirt.
She'd hoped to chat with Isabel about Connor. But it was clear that her friend already had enough on her mind with her son.
No big deal. A lot had changed in the eight months Ginger had been at the lake. She'd learned to speak up. Not to let people steamroll her. She'd been clear with Connor. Poplar Cove might have been his house as a kid, but it was her house now. If any work was going to be done on it while she held the lease, she'd say when, she'd say how much.
She didn't need Isabel to tell her that.
The traffic was crazy on Main Street and Connor had to park on the far end of the street from the Blue Mountain Lake Inn. Main Street was only one block long, but even though he hadn't been to the lake in over a decade, it felt like stepping back in time. Some of the storefronts were newer, shinier than he remembered, and there hadn't been brick-paved sidewalks when he was a kid, but the huge flower baskets were still hanging from the old-fashioned lampposts and the hardware and grocery stores were right where they'd always been.
He caught sight of himself in the window of a yarn store. Jesus, he looked like he was hunkering down for a storm, hunched and tense. The five a.m. cross-country flight was taking its toll. Connor was used to constant movement, not being cramped in a tiny seat for so many hours. A long hard run would help burn off some of the aggravations of the day. But first he'd get a room at the Inn.
Just for tonight. By tomorrow he'd make damn sure he'd worked out a way to get back into his own damn lakefront cabin.
Walking around the front of the Inn, he remembered going to piano and popcorn nights in the oversized great room with a fireplace big enough that a half dozen of them could stand up inside it. Looking at it now, he could hardly believe it was the same place. It now sported weatherproof windows, a new wing off the back, and extensive landscaping.
He pulled open the door and was surprised to see his old friend Stu Murphy standing behind the front desk.
They'd both been big fans of superhero comic books and had spent endless hours up in the Poplar Cove lofts reading by flashlight.
But Connor wasn't in any mood for a walk down memory lane. He should have known better than to come downtown, to the Inn, where he would run in to all these people who knew him as a kid. In a small town where everyone knew everything about everyone else, they'd all want to know about his scars. About what he was doing out here.
“Connor MacKenzie. How long has it been?” Stu said. “Glad to see you back in the Adirondacks.”
Connor worked to cover his black mood as he shook his friend's hand. “You work here now?”
“Actually, I own it. Sean and I bought the Inn a couple years ago.” Stu did a double take at Connor's scars and paled. “I heard you were a firefighter out west.”
“Yup. Sam and I are hotshots in Lake Tahoe.”
“Sounds great,” Stu said easily, his relief at not having to go there palpable. Just as Connor had known it would be.