and he walked over and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I just finished weeding the back garden and am about to barbecue.” She arched a brow. “Are you having dinner with Benji and me?”
“I’m meeting the guys at the Coach House for beer and wings.”
“Good. I’m glad you’ve reconnected with them.” Her eyes softened. “I suppose you’re heading downtown afterward?”
He nodded. “That’s the plan. Booker’s got a sitter.”
“How’s Cam doing these days?” His mother opened the fridge and handed an expectant Benji a cold soda before helping herself to one.
“Good.”
“And the baby?”
“She’s getting big.” His eyes rested on Benji, who was greedily and loudly downing the soda can in one big gulp. Didn’t seem that long ago his own kid was in diapers.
Elise ran her hands through Benji’s thick mop of hair. “Aren’t they all?” she murmured.
Benji swiped at the corner of his mouth and looked up at his grandmother. “Look what I got.” He held up a little figurine.
“What the heck is that?” Elise asked, scrunching up her eyes as she took a closer look.
“It’s a gargoyle.” Benji held it higher. “Poppy told me it was used to get rid of the bad guys, like a long time ago or something.”
“It’s pretty scary-looking,” she replied, glancing toward Boone questioningly, but he just shrugged in response.
“It’s hot in here,” Benji complained.
“You’ll get used to it.” With a no-nonsense voice Boone knew all too well, his mother pointed to the stairs. “The basement is cold, so you can stash your things down there for now, and later tonight, you and I are sleeping outside in the tent.”
“Wow! Really?” Benji turned to Boone. “Did you hear that, Daddy?”
Boone nodded and told his son to head downstairs. As a kid, how many nights had he laid out under the stars with his mother while his dad slept off a drunken mood? At the time, he’d thought of it as an adventure, only realizing when he got older it had been a way to keep him safe from a man with a heart as black as tar and a temper to match.
“I should go,” Boone said, giving his mother a hug. “Thanks for watching him tonight. His buddy has a nasty summer cold, and he was pretty disappointed his plans got canceled until you called.”
“I love watching him,” she murmured, leaning against the counter. “He’s so like you.”
“Yeah?” Personally, Boone thought Benji looked a hell of a lot like his mother, Amber.
“One hundred percent.” She smiled, her expression changing a bit as she studied him. “When did you run into Poppy Fairbanks?”
He cleared his throat and shrugged. “I was down at the river with Benji, and he needed to use the bathroom, so I sent him over to that boutique across from the boardwalk. When I went to get him, she was there.” He paused, thinking he should keep quiet, but wanting to know more. “Does she own it?”
“She does. Bella & Hooch is hands down the loveliest shop in Crystal Lake. I swear you can buy pretty much anyone a gift from that store.” Elise’s brow furrowed. “She opened it when she got back from Los Angeles several years ago.”
“LA?”
“Yes. She went there after graduation. Wanted to be an actress, I think Serena said.”
Damn. She’d really done it. “How long’s she been back?”
“A few years now.” She chuckled, though it died quietly. “I have a feeling there’s more of a story to her return.” She glanced up at him. “No different from yours, I suppose. It’s funny how Crystal Lake has a habit of calling back her own.”
The past wasn’t something Boone liked to revisit. He gave his mother one last kiss and called down to his son. “I’m outta here, Benji. You be good for your nana, and I’ll see you for breakfast in the morning.”
Ten minutes later, he walked into the dark, cool recesses of what was, without a doubt, a landmark for all the kids who’d grown up in Crystal Lake. It was a rite of passage to get served your first beer in the place—doubly so if you managed it while underage. The Coach House sat at the edge of town, down near the river, with a stand of trees one hundred yards thick to border it. The parking lot was still a minefield of potholes, and the old sign out front was just as crooked as it had been when he was a teen.
Boone smiled. He liked that it hadn’t changed a bit, not even when Nash Booker