Page 25 of These Secret Years

“We have everything you need. Do you just mow or can you do any light landscaping?”

“We can do anything there’s a YouTube tutorial for.”

This brings up a laugh or chuckle from everyone, and my mom hires him on the spot before going into the house with Kat to get started on the sides.

After a week of allowing myself to be lazy as fuck, I finally get out of the house. There’s not much of a reason to leave since we’ve got a full gym, great food, and plenty of ways to entertain myself, but I need to clear my head and make a plan for the rest of the time I’ll be here. The twins and I have to go back to school the last week of July for training, but I’ve got seven weeks until then, and I’m already restless.

I start off with a run, heading toward town to consider whether I want to get a job. I don’t need a job, obviously, but since I’ve never had one, and I like the idea of needing to be somewhere at a certain time, I’m not ruling it out. I also want to spend the afternoon and night at the so-called haunted house my mom told me about, which is a little like work. She wants me to clean it up and give it a good inspection to figure out if there’s anything I think is putting buyers off it “other than the obvious,” she said.

When I asked, like what? She’d shrugged and said, “You know—vibes.”

That could be my summer job, I guess. Vibe checker.

Sunrise Point is a summer destination for people who know about it. It’s like the best kept secret on Lake Superior. Because of the idyllic nature of the town and the specific place it occupies on the lake—great for viewing the sunrise, of course—everything here is expensive and chic. There are small art galleries on the main stretch of street, gastropubs and bistros, and a boutique hotel on the corner of Main and Bluff. Instead of an ice cream shop, the town sells gelato, and the nearest vineyard has a wine-tasting room. There are antique shops and a very popular Starbucks along with a pizza parlor and a more basic breakfast diner. But those are all for the tourists. The locals don’t favor Main street. First Street, a block down, looks shoddy in comparison to keep the tourists away, but it’s truly where all the hidden gems are.

My favorite place is called Dollar Coffee. Rich people want nothing to do with dollar coffee, so most of them never find out about the café's bakery that makes the best iced coffee and scones I’ve ever tasted. It’s also got the best atmosphere in town. It’s attached to a bookstore that specializes in genre fiction and classic comics called simply: Used Books. Technically, they have a resale section, but most of the books in there were brand new the last time I checked.

While Sullivan might not have known or ever heard of me, I get a lot of waves and welcome homes as I jog past the deliberately shabby facades. Plenty of rich people live around here, but my dad’s the most famous one in town. Still, I guess if you don’t follow football, you wouldn’t know who he is, although that’s hard for me to wrap my mind around.

I head for home once I reach the three mile mark.

My mom isn’t home, but my dad is. He and Kat are in the den off the kitchen, and they look locked in to the reality baking show they’ve made a pact only to watch together. Today is apparently the day for that. They press pause to acknowledge my presence. Either that, or I’m making too much noise in the kitchen for them to enjoy what they’re watching.

“Good run?” Dad asks.

“Yeah. Great weather.”

“The twins went with your mom.”

“Oh. All right. I think I might head out after a shower to one of the houses.”

“So, is this like a lowkey way to house shop?” Kat asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you have to try on a house for a night to see whether you like it the way I did with prom dresses?”

I huff a laugh. “I’m not in the market for a house. I’m nineteen.”

“You watch a lot of House Hunters, I bet.”

House Hunters. Love It or List It. Pretty much any show that involves empty houses and people walking around in them. She nailed me with that one.

“Are you planning on learning how to bake a perfect sponge cake?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she says. When Dad chuckles, she adds, “Eventually. I mean, you never know.”

“Exactly.”

She frowns at the obtuse way I end the conversation, and I grin.

“Why do I feel like you have some girl you’re keeping secret here, and this is how you hook up with her without mom and dad knowing.”

“Damn, Kat, way to blow your brother’s cover,” I say with a wink.

“If there’s any chance that’s true, we’d love to meet her,” Dad says.

“Yeah, I bet you would.” I grab a full baggie of washed grapes from the fridge and leave them to their show.