Dean. I forgot Dean had done his roof. Of course he had.
“Delbert, just give her the keys already,” said the tiny white-haired woman who had appeared behind Delbert’s chair.
“Aunt Emma!”
J.J. rose and quickly found herself in a hug. The aroma of Youth Dew perfume gave J.J. the sense that she’d magically gone back in time. Emma was the same. J.J. looked closely, wondering how the woman managed to exude vitality at her age and how she had stayed so engaged in the comings and goings of this town over the decades. J.J. had thought, once, that she’d be the same, always entangled in gossip, always listening at her shampoo bowl. But somehow, over the last year, she’d disconnected from all of it.
Delbert’s bubbler dispute, Stone’s grocery store, and even her own son’s work to renovate downtown: she’d had no interest in it or energy for it, or for anything that was related to Irish Hills. It all seemed to be a part of her life with Dean. It all connected her to things that made her sad.
But here she was with Emma and about to dive right into the deep end of Lake Manitou.
“Delbert has terrible taste,” Emma was saying, “but he’s meticulous about maintenance. If you can ignore that duck-patterned wallpaper border, the place is solid and perfect.”
“Ducks are the decorating theme,” Delbert retorted. “What would you know, Princess Quinn of the Peninsula?”
The two old timers were used to giving each other grief, that was clear.
“Give her the keys. I know they’re on your ring,” Emma said to Delbert. She then turned back to J.J. “He walks around here like he’s going to need to unlock a car or his house even though he can’t see to drive, and he’s lived here for over a year.”
“Be quiet, old woman.”
But just as Emma had said, Delbert produced three keys from a ring that had at least a dozen others on it.
“This is to the deadbolt for the main door. That will get you in. Here’s one to the boat. And this one’s for the outbuilding.” He put them in J.J.’s hand and then squeezed it.
“I’m only doing this for you. And for Dean. Sick of renters. I’m telling you. Sick of them.”
“I promise you’ll be glad you did. I’ll leave it nicer than I found it.”
“I know, otherwise I’d tell you to pound sand like I did everyone else.”
“Well, good, it’s settled,” Emma stated. “Oh, and she’s taking off that wallpaper. Like it or not.”
“I’m just renting. I’m not?—”
“Trust me, you’ll rip it off with your teeth if you have to.”
“Pshhh,” Delbert said. “Do what you want, but ducks are good décor. It’s a theme.”
J.J. had no intention of decorating or renovating or even boating. She just needed a quiet place with fewer memories so she could focus on the salon, get her son sorted, and finish packing up her life in Irish Hills.
If duck wallpaper was all she had to worry about, it was hardly a worry at all.
* * *
She left the Silver Estates with the keys in hand. Her heart felt a little lighter. She’d seen Emma, and it felt good to know the mainstay of Irish Hills was as sharp as ever. Emma was like her family. She felt some guilt wash over her. She’d also abandoned Emma. Emma, who’d treated her and Dean and their boys like her own kin.
Maybe running was more selfish than I realized.
Well, onward to the Treach cottage. It would do. Maybe it would even be nice.
Her entire life in Irish Hills, but she’d never actually lived on the water. Near the water, sure; worked on the water, yes; stayed at her rich friends’ places, yep, all the time. But renting a place on the lake seemed almost like a vacation.
Dean and the kids had boated on that lake all the time, but they’d never once owned a place with lake views, much less lake access or a dock.
This was a little sad since they’d lived here all their lives. But in a way, she was glad. This experience was new. Staying at Treach’s had no past associations.
She’d treat it like the many places she’d stayed in over the last year. Just temporary while she figured out what was next in her life.
