Chapter Sixteen
“I’m never going to get the hang of this.” Laney held up a badly misshapen square that was supposed to be a dishcloth. “And I use a sponge. Why am I knitting a dishcloth, anyway?”
Nola laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call that knitting. But dishcloths are fun because you can play with borders and colors, and they don’t take forever, so you don’t get bored. Plus, once you’ve done a few, you don’t need a pattern, so they’re good for knitting while watching TV at night.”
“You told me knitting would be relaxing.”
“It’s only relaxing if you actually relax.”
“I came over the first time the week the Kowalski family left, so it’s been almost a month now.” Laney sighed. “I’m not getting any better.”
“That’s because you worry too much about the fact you’renotgetting any better. When you’re tense, your stitches are too tight and whateverthatis happens.”
“I love you, but I hate knitting.” She set the sorry excuse for half a dishcloth on the coffee table and picked up her iced tea. “I don’t enjoy it, so I’ll visit and watchyouknit.”
“I guess not everybody likes it.” Nola chuckled. “At least your conversation will consist of more than muttering bad words under your breath now.”
“Your knitting lessons have definitely expanded my vocabulary.”
“Your mom was asking about you again. I guess she and my mom talked on the phone yesterday, because my mom called me after.”
Laney bit back the urge to show off some of that new vocabulary. “I talked to her a few days ago. I told her everything’s great and, to be honest, it was one of the better conversations we’ve had in recent years.”
“I don’t think she believed you when you told her you’re happy and enjoying your job and, you know, living in a camper. She thinks you’re suffering and lying about it just to spite her.”
Laney laughed, but it was mostly due to her cousin’s theatrical eye roll. The fact her own mother was so resistant to the idea her daughter could be happier living alone in a camper than she’d been in a big, expensive house with a husband wasn’t as funny.
* * *
“Have you told your mom about Ben yet?” Nola asked. “I’m guessing you haven’t because my mom hasn’t mentioned it and that’s prime gossip, if you know what I mean.”
“I haven’t said anything about him yet.”
“You’re going to soon, though, right? Aren’t things getting serious between you two?”
She mentally shied away from the wordserious. It was a word that made her anxious on some level because she couldn’t deny they spent a lot of time together. In the weeks since the Kowalski family left, Laney had gotten in the habit of hanging out with Nola and knitting—or trying to, anyway—since the town hall closed early on Tuesdays and it was a slow day at the lodge. And she’d also gotten in the habit of leaving Nola’s and going to Ben’s, where she’d spend the evening. They’d cook together and watch some television until the cuddling and the touching got heated, and then they’d end up in his bed.
And despite not having the convenient excuse of being a friend of the guests for spending time at the Northern Star, Ben was still a frequent visitor. When he could get there early enough, he’d often walk with her, holding her hand. Or they’d sit in her chairs and talk about the day. And they’d made love in her bed a few times, too, though she preferred his place. Campers weren’t the best at soundproofing.
They enjoyed each other’s company, but they didn’t put a label on it. He didn’t push her for more than the easy companionship between them and she didn’t overthink it. She was happy and Ben seemed to be, so she didn’t feel a need to define what they had for anybody else.
“I’d prefer to keep my mother out of it for now. You know how she can be.”
Nola made a sympathetic noise, nodding. “I don’t blame you. My mom’s not quite as bad as yours, but you can definitely tell they’re sisters.”
“Enough about moms,” Laney said, since it would also change the subject away from Ben. “When are we going to make the drive to see a movie in an actual theater?”
“Oh, I need to see what’s coming up so we can plan a trip. But you also have to come to the next movie night. They’re usually the first Saturday of every month, though it gets messed up a lot in the summer. All the women get together at somebody’s house and watch a movie. There’s food and drinks and no men or kids.”
She listened to Nola talk about some of the movies they’d watched in the past, and then she shared some funny stories about the women who attended, but Laney’s attention kept wandering to the clock. Ben would probably be home soon, and it had been a few days since she’d seen him. Texting and phone calls were nice, but definitely not the same.
“I should probably go,” she said when Nola’s conversation had run its course. She knew her cousin liked to spend some time in her garden before starting dinner, and this was about the time she usually left.
“Going to see Ben?”
“Probably. He hasn’t sent me a message saying he’s busy, so he’ll probably be home by the time I get there.” Last-minute cancellations were part of being in Ben’s life, but she didn’t mind. As much as she missed seeing him when he was busy, she knew what he was doing was more important than throwing together dinner with her.
But when she pulled into his driveway, Ben’s SUV wasn’t there. And his mother was.
