Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Melanie and Sylvia, two older guests at the inn, approached our table, both smiling at Marley.
“Okay, let’s see how Dad did today!” Melanie said.
They checked the back of her hair and both gave me a thumbs-up.
“I couldn’t have braided it better myself!” Sylvia said. “At least, back before I had arthritis. I couldn’t braid anything these days.”
Marley beamed at me. I’d decided to think of double Dutch braids like hockey. When I was younger, I drilled hockey essentials over and over until I got them. So I took the same approach—watching videos and practicing again and again. Marley played a handheld video game to make the time pass easier.
And now, here I was, a pretty damn good hair braider.
“You did good, Holt,” Melanie said, cupping my cheek in her soft hand.
“Thanks.”
“We heard you’ll be part of the big race today,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
Melanie’s husband, Ron, approached our table, putting his hands on Spencer’s shoulders.
“Did you save me any pancakes?” he asked.
Spencer smiled and shrugged. “They were really good.”
“That’s okay, son. You’re a growing boy.”
“And you’re turning out to be a handsome one,” Sylvia said.
Spencer’s cheeks turned pink, but I could tell he enjoyed the compliments. The other long-term summer guests here had gotten to know us and my kids loved having a little extended family here.
“Did you hear there’s a baby moose on Main Street?” Ron asked me.
“No. Just walking around?”
“That’s what it was doing yesterday when we were at the bookstore. The mama and daddy moose were close by. The locals call them Floki and Helga.”
Marley turned to me with wide eyes. “Can we go see the baby moose, Dad? Please?”
“We’ll try. But not today. Today’s the showdown.”
A hostess came over to tell Melanie, Sylvia and Ron their table was ready. While the kids finished eating, I glanced around the dining hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Shea.
It had been five days since our last cooking lesson, and I missed seeing her. The kids had been spending lots of time with my parents and I’d been at the current youth hockey complex, meeting players and their families and starting plans for the transition to the new location.
My days were full, and other than Andrea sending texts regularly asking if we could talk on the phone, I had no complaints. But no matter how many people I talked to or how much I accomplished in a day, it was always a better day when I got to talk to Shea, even if only for a little bit.
“Dad, she’s in the kitchen,” Spencer said.
“Hmm?”
He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Shea. You were looking for Shea, but she’s in the kitchen. She’s short-staffed this week and she has to be in the kitchen a lot.”
Spencer still got to see Shea often. He stopped by the kitchen just to say hi all the time. But I’d gotten a vibe from her during our cooking lessons that she wanted to keep things platonic, so I didn’t want to just drop in on her.
Okay, I did want to drop in on her, but I didn’t think she wanted me to. This situation was like high school all over again.
“I wasn’t looking for her,” I said.
Spencer gave me a you’re pathetic look. “Yes, you were, Dad.”
I set my napkin on my plate, ignoring him. “Are you guys ready?”
“Where are we going?” Marley asked.
“You guys are coming to warm up with me. Grandma and Grandpa will be here soon and then you’ll hang out with them.”
Grady had given me two of the “Team Grady” shirts our team was wearing for the kids, and they were excited about watching the competition. I hoped we won, but it was no longer a lock because Georgette, the weakest member of the fire chief’s team, had sprained her arm practicing and was out. She’d been replaced with a college football player who was home for the summer working part-time delivering flowers for her shop.
When the kids and I approached my team on the lawn of the inn, Grady nodded at me, his expression serious. Deadly serious. This competition meant a lot to him.
“Dina, have you been practicing rings?” he asked one of the other team members.
“As much as I can. I’m getting better.”
In our practices, she couldn’t throw the rings hard enough. She couldn’t get them within five feet of the wood stakes we had to hook them on. If she couldn’t land three rings on stakes today, we’d be stuck at that station until the other team won.
“Why don’t you go work on that?” Grady said, a line of worry between his brows. “Spencer and Marley, your job is to collect the rings and bring them back to Dina, okay?”
My kids both nodded, thrilled to have a job to do for the showdown team. They left with Dina for the nearby ring practice area. Grady approached me, his arms folded across his chest.