Page 16 of Holding Ground

“I can assure you that the company I work for isn’t looking to take over the town and rip out all the forests to develop the land.”

“That’s something, I guess.”

“But you’re open to the idea, depending on what it is?”

“Suppose so. More people in the area means more business for me. I had to set up an online store last year to supplement my income. Nowadays, when I should be baking, I’m busy boxing up orders and shipping them to hell’s half acre. Makes my days longer. Not a fan.”

I nod as he speaks.

“Didn’t start this bakery because I wanted to make a million dollars, or because I wanted to have to make stupid fucking videos for social media. I just wanted to do what I love—create delicious treats and watch people enjoy them the way you just did and make a little money doing it.”

We chat a little more about his bakery until he tells me he has to get back to work, and I venture outside to take a seat at one of the small iron tables.

The morning sun shines on my face as I enjoy the rest of my pastry. People trickle in and out of the shops lining Main Street, and I watch, noting which businesses seem most in demand, filing it all away.

When I finish eating, I take my plate inside, then step back outside. Looking to my left, I see the sun glistening off the lake just beyond the marina where the boats are all docked.

One thing I always miss about Sunrise Bay is the water. I’m thinking that will never leave me.

A speedboat zips across the water, towing a tube with a couple of kids behind it. I can faintly hear their screams of delight.

Though I grew up in a town directly on the water, we didn’t get to do things like that. The water in Alaska never gets warm enough for that kind of fun. If it was a warm summer, we’d brave a quick dip in the bay as teens, mostly to show off, but our summers weren’t spent on jet skis or being towed behind speedboats.

That familiar ache forms in my gut—the one that surfaces whenever I think of home. Of my family. The first true warm day when our entire family would go down to the beach along the bay, have a picnic, and play games.

Brushing the memory aside, I head into the art gallery next door on my information-gathering mission.

I have a job to do.

CHAPTER

SIX

Elliott

Ipark my truck in the school parking lot and head to the side of the school where the kindergarten class comes out, separate from the rest of the students who leave from the front doors.

Suits me fine. The past two days at pickup, it’s looked like a zoo over there, like a bunch of monkeys streaming and screaming out the doors, finally free from their cages.

Like every day this week, every head turns as I approach.

So far, I haven’t seen another father here except for the first day of school when some of the dads joined the moms to see their son or daughter off. That, and the looks I get when I show up, make me feel like a nightlight in a dark room, drawing everyone’s attention.

You’re different.

One thing here is not like the other.

Where is Baylor’s mother?

It’s true. Baylor is the only child here being raised by a single father. I already knew that, of course. But seeing it with my own eyes every day—all the mothers waiting here for their kids, knowing that Baylor’s mom won’t ever be standing here waiting for her—I don’t know. It’s the difference between knowing a thing and having to watch it.

“Hey, Elliott.” Mindy smiles at me as I take my spot on the sidewalk.

“How’s it going? How’s Tim?”

I went to school with Mindy. She was a year ahead of me. I used to play football with her husband, Tim.

“Pretty good. Still can’t believe summer is over. Went by in a flash. Tim’s already preparing for the fantasy football draft.”