Page 12 of Finding Forever

“There’s more to life than work, Dad. You’re in your mid-sixties. You should be thinking about retiring, not planning the next job.”

Dave’s eyebrows rose. “My age doesn’t matter. I’m not retiring until I’m ready.”

Mark sighed. “I just want you to be happy, not work yourself into an early grave.”

“I am happy.” And for the first time in years, it was the truth. “I’m enjoying working on the resort at Finley Point. My crew are creating something that will outlast all of us and the next couple of generations. And the arts center is a labor of love. The building has great bones and just needs some work to make it shine.”

Mark studied Dave’s face. “You sound like you used to. When Mom was still here, you’d come home and tell us how a building would change people’s lives once it was remodeled. I haven’t heard you do that in years. Most of our conversations have been one-liners that don’t explain much of anything.”

Dave didn’t have a fast answer for that, so he didn’t reach for one.

“Your mom would have enjoyed the projects I’m working on,” Dave said finally. “She’d have had opinions about the paint colors inside of two minutes.”

Mark laughed, short and real. “Mom had opinions about everything inside of a few minutes.”

Dave smiled. “She was right about most of them, too.”

Mark nodded and looked across the water. For a second, Dave saw the little boy he’d taught to fish before he’d moved away to make his way in the world.

“I still miss Mom,” Mark said softly. “Some days it sneaks up on me at the grocery store, of all places. She used to buy that terrible orange juice that nobody would drink.”

An image of Carol unpacking the groceries made Dave’s throat thicken. When Mark was a boy, money was tight. Carol couldn’t justify spending another five dollars on a carton of juice, so she bought a cheaper generic brand. After a while, even when they could afford something different, she’d bought the same juice.

“Your mom knew you didn’t like it. She wanted you to keep drinking water.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

“There wasn’t much you didn’t agree on,” Dave told his son. “She wanted to see how long you’d take to tell her it was terrible.”

“I never did. At least she saved our teeth from cavities.”

They laughed together, the kind of laugh that had grief folded somewhere deep inside it. They shared more stories about Carol. Some touching, some showing just how stubborn she could be. But all of them wrapped in the happy memories of two people who’d loved her.

Dave hadn’t talked about Carol like this in a long time. It felt good to reconnect with his son, to remember the times that had shaped both their lives, and led them on the path of who they’d become.

By the time Dave loaded the empty cooler back into his truck, the marina was lit with white lights and the soft glow of the setting sun.

Mark stood in the driveway. “We can’t let it be months again before we see each other, Dad. I’m away next week, but do you want a visitor the following Sunday?”

“That sounds great. Hank’s wife gave me her secret barbecue sauce recipe. I’ll cook some spareribs you’ll never forget.”

Mark hugged Dave close. “Sounds like an awesome plan, Dad. Take care. If you need me for anything, just call.”

Dave nodded. “You, too. I’m only a phone call away.”

The drive back along the lake was dark and familiar, headlights catching the fence posts one at a time. When Dave turned up his own street, the veranda light was already on, same as every night, tripped by its timer to keep the house from looking empty while he was gone.

Most nights he drove up to it and didn’t think about it at all. It had been burning there for so long that it had stopped meaning anything.

Tonight he sat in the truck after he’d cut the engine. The house wasn’t any different than it had been the night before, but somehow it made him feel more alone than he wanted to admit.

With a sigh, he went inside and left the veranda light on a little longer than usual before he went up to bed.

As if there were a reason to.

Chapter 8

Beth had never made so many different cakes at once. Even though Kayla only needed three tiers for her wedding cake, this was a trial run to find the perfect recipe for each layer.