Page 7 of Patio Lanterns

Robin’s knife steadily tapped on the cutting board. “So, I haven’t been back to Lake Whippoorwill for a few years, but I don’t remember seeing you around before.”

“I moved in after I retired a couple of years ago,” he said, his back turned to the island as he seasoned the steaks at the counter.

“Retired?” she questioned. “You seem awfully young to be retired.”

He turned his head and grinned. “You’ve only been here a few minutes and already, you’re my favourite dinner guest of all time.”

She laughed with him. “You mentioned Vancouver. Did you move from out west?”

“Yeah, I lived in B.C. for almost thirty years. But I’m originally from here,” he said. “What about you?”

“I grew up in Markham,” she said.

“Hey, Richmond Hill.” He raised his beer and clinked the neck of her bottle. “How long have you been coming up here?”

“Oh, I’m a lifer,” she admitted. “My family owns a cottage. The one I’m presently locked out of?”

He was curious why she didn’t have a key but didn’t want to pry. “How come you haven’t been to the cottage for a few years?” he asked instead.

“Just life, I guess. To be honest, I think the Live-Love-Lake gene might’ve skipped me. My parents loved spending summers up here, but vacations meant having to leave behind my friends and the privacy of my own room for mosquito bites, detention camp bunk beds, and sharing a tiny bathroom with four other people. Not exactly my idea of paradise.”

“You can take the girl out of the city, but can’t take the city out of the girl?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Robin put down the knife and scooped up the piles of onions, peppers, and tomatoes she’d cut up and placed them in the bowl along with the cucumbers he’d sliced earlier. “Do you have salad dressing?”

“Already mixed,” he said. “Do you like feta? I have some if you want to add that in.”

“I love it,” she said.

“Great, me too.” Rick pulled out the cheese and an herbed vinaigrette from the fridge.

As she finished the salad, Rick tidied up his workstation before procuring two more cold ones to take outside. He found a suitably sized bowl and filled it with tap water so that Mutt could have a cold one too. “How about we move this party to the deck and get these steaks on? I’m not sure how much longer we can test Mutt Lange’s patience.”

At the sound of his name, Mutt’s tail thumped against the floor. Rick laughed. “I promise you, my three-legged friend, it’ll be worth the wait.”

“I’m not sure he’s ever had steak before, so it will be a treat for us both,” Robin said. “To be honest, most of my meals get handed to me at the drive-thru.”

Rick flinched at the thought of existing on fast food. All the more reason to make sure he cooked Robin’s steak to her liking. He chose to forego the faster option of cooking with gas for the charcoal grill. While the old-school method was slower, it would give the meat extra flavour, with the added bonus that the additional cooking time meant more time for conversation.

As he prepared the grill, Robin and Mutt surveyed the backyard. Rick took pride in the place, having put a great deal of time and effort into the landscaping and later adding the multi-tiered deck, hot tub, and the indulgence of a major outdoor kitchen—investments that increased the cottage’s value with the bonus of making it feel more like home. His home.

“This is spectacular,” Robin cooed, settling back into a Muskoka chair with a beer. “Do you do all of this gardening yourself? If so, you’ve got to have quite the green thumb.”

“I find it relaxes me,” he said, pleased that she’d noticed. “Something about being one with nature, I suppose.”

“Well, it’s gorgeous. And so’s the rest of the yard. You must’ve done quite well for yourself to do all of this after you retired.”

“I did all right,” he said, modestly. “I moved to B.C. to play football and then stayed to start my own company. When it sold, that allowed me to come back here. Now I’m living the dream.”

That was a severely abbreviated version of events, one more palatable than the whole ugly story. While he’d always intended to retire at the lake, an unexpected turn of events forced his hand into returning sooner than expected. At least he’d had the foresight to buy the cottage years before. It gave him a soft place a land and a project to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t lose his mind. Of course, even that plan had come at a steep cost.

“What kind of business were you in?” she asked.

“Finance and asset management,” he said, before slightly revising for clarity. “I helped people invest their money.” He piled coals into the charcoal chimney starter and set it alight. As the stack began smouldering, he pulled up a seat next to Robin.

“And you played football too? What position?”

“Wide receiver,” he said, relaxing with a sip from his beer.

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