rest. Did some reading. Worked out in the yard. Hey, Theo, shut up!” He hits the back of Theo’s head. Theo grins. “Nice pick-up boys.”
“My plan,” Gravel says.
“And full of your usual subtlety.”
“Thanks. Be at the lake by dawn.”
“The boat?”
Kent answers, “Waiting.”
* * *
Chapter Eight
The morning comes too soon for Alison. The aggressive sun creeps skillfully in through the windowpane, up the mattress, onto the sheets, and then elbows her right in the eye. Without opening her eyes, she wonders how the sun does that, finds the one crack in the drapes and lands exactly on her eye. A few moments ago, she heard Hank and Jimmy lugging their suitcases down the stairs and she snuggled deeper into the covers.
Polly knocks on the bedroom door and then sticks her head in. “Hank asked me to tell you it’s time.”
“Ugh!” Alison buries her head back under the pillow. How can this be a vacation if someone is waking me up? Aren’t those mutually exclusive events?
“Alison?”
“Okay. I’m up.”
Polly Steiner likes her job. At sixty-years-old, she has no patience for the drama of other families she’s worked for - the Kraft family is a good fit. She’s been with them two days a week since Jimmy was born, and an ease of life has developed between them.
Polly straightens up the bedroom as Alison heads lazily for the bathroom. Polly organizes the magazines neatly on the bedside table. She picks up Hank’s black socks, which were left in a ball on the floor on his side of the bed, and she tosses them into the hamper. Alison rinses her face in the sink, and brushes her teeth. She slips on her light blue jeans and a long-sleeved white sweater.
“So, Polly, you will water the plants?”
“All except that ugly creeping Charlie in the downstairs hall. I hate that plant.”
“Yeah? I didn’t want to tell you, I heard it saying bad things about you to the other plants.”
“I knew it.”
“Oh, no! I forgot I have a dentist appointment scheduled this week.”
“They called to confirm yesterday and I canceled it,” Polly says.
“Oh, good. What else?”
“I stopped your mail.”
“Oh, right.”
“And the newspaper.”
“Perfect.”
“And I finished the novel you were reading.”
“How’d I like it?”
“You cried at the end.”
“Oh, I love a good cry.”
They smile at each other. Polly hands her the small travel case.
“Have a good time.”
“Actually, I woke up feeling a lot different this morning.”
“Yeah?”
“This will be an adventure. I think I’m going to have a good time.”
“That’s the pioneer spirit. I slipped the bug spray, the aspirin, and the anti-itch lotion inside your rain boots.”
“Oh. Good thinking.”
* * *
A few hours later, the tiny grey speedboat, which from Alison’s perspective is in questionable condition, and barely qualifies as a floatation device, bangs across the surface of Lake Superior. Hank sits in the aft next to the captain, who Alison is quite certain isn’t old enough for a driver’s license yet. The teenager has kept the boat relatively close to land. They’ve been speeding along since late morning without a single sign of civilization on the shore. Hank looks off at the distant horizon and invigorated, starts singing Proud Mary. Even the gathering storm clouds cannot wipe the grin from his face. He remembers the envious looks from his two partners, Scottie and Newt, at work yesterday. He knew when he got back he was going to hear about plans from each of them to do something out of bounds - something exciting. They are all ready for a break. They have worked hard and long on their business.
Two years ago, the three of them started Pump Up The Volume, a sound and lights equipment company. Hank is the first to actually take a vacation. They have worked like crazy for professional gigs, and they love it when a real band comes to town, but the bread and butter of their business is still high school musicals, bar mitzvahs, and weddings. Hank doesn’t mind though, because while there is always stress when the special night arrives, he works all the time with people who are planning happy events and that fits with his nature. It has been fun starting a business, in his hometown, with his best buddies, and being able to work all day long with the music blasting. Music is as essential to Hank as breathing. All kinds of music: Hip-hop, Reggae, Blues, Rap, Rock - it all works for him. The only improvement he made to their home was to wire every room for sound; even