Page 19 of I'll Be There
“Trust me. The sum of my friends is right here, and right now I’m considering crossing you all off the list.”
“And after I offered to take the top bunk. Now that’s friendship.” Pete got up to retrieve the long matches.
Frankly, Conner didn’t know why they couldn’t just have it here, in the backyard of the Christiansen family’s resort. The twelve-cabin property sprawled along the northern shore of Evergreen Lake, tiny two- and three-room cabins nestled amidst white pine, poplar, and black spruce, recently replanted after the terrible fire that had decimated the resort. The fire had only spared the main lodge. Darek Christiansen, the oldest son, who now ran the place, had spent the past three years rebuilding.
Darek, who’d once worked alongside the Jude County Hotshots with Jed.
“Liza’s not going to be thrilled when we all disappear tomorrow,” Pete said.
Conner had constructed a teepee fire, shoving the kindling pack into the middle. “Light her up.” He stood, slapping the wood debris off his hands. “I was thinking about that—maybe I should go alone.”
“Not hardly,” Reuben said. “You don’t know what you’re walking into.”
“I’ll stick around here.” Jed walked down the path carrying a cooler. “Unless you think you need more backup.” He set the cooler on the spongy ground.
“It’s not a stake out—I’m simply meeting this woman. Getting some information—”
“About your dead brother,” Pete said. “That’s—”
“What’s this about a dead brother?” Darek Christiansen said. He carried his toddler daughter on his shoulders, holding onto her feet. Darek looked every inch the former hotshot—bulky shoulders, lean torso, his dark hair clipped short, a hint of a beard. But he donned a lime green, Evergreen resorts T-shirt instead of the common black Jude County Hotshots shirt.
“So this is Joy,” Jed said, walking over to tug at the little girl’s feet. Blonde, curly hair, blue eyes, she had her mother’s smile. “Good thing she doesn’t look like you.” Jed reached up, took the little girl down from Darek’s perch. “C’mere, Goldilocks. I’ll tell you stories about your Daddy.”
“Jed—” Darek started, but Jed had already swooped her away, flying her around the campsite as she erupted into laughter. “I hope he has kids soon, so he can stop harassing mine. He gave Tiger a hard hat and a Pulaski and told him he expected him to sign up for his crew next summer.”
“How old is Tiger—ten?” Conner asked.
“Old enough to think he should be a smoke jumper, so please don’t encourage him,” Darek said.
Right. Conner had no doubt that Darek might be the one filling his son’s head with too many stories of bravado and adventure.
Pete, clearly, had the same thought. “If we find him out West, having hitchhiked from Minnesota, we’ll know who to blame. And it won’t be Jed.”
Darek laughed. “Nice fire, Young. So, you about ready for this? Marrying the most popular girl in town? You know that allof Deep Haven will be at your wedding. No pressure, but don’t screw up.”
Conner managed a feeble laugh. “Funny.”
“Ah, all he has to do is show up,” Reuben said. “Her posse of women seem to have everything under control. They just arrived with containers of food and who knows what else. Good thing we’re getting out of here tomorrow, or I think we’d be roped into decorating.”
Darek raised an eyebrow. “You’re leaving? Um, because according to Grace, it’s all hands on deck tomorrow for yes, decorating. Apparently, they have to move the reception to the ice arena, and Grace is calling an audible. She even asked my wife to help.” Darek made a face. “Don’t tell anyone, but in Ivy’s hands, a glue gun is a lethal weapon. She’ll have hot glue—”
“I heard that!”
Ivy came down the path, her auburn hair pulled back, wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants. “And just who gave my son the ax?” She had her attorney voice, and Conner glanced at Jed, who seemed to be making a quick exit toward the long dock, Joy over his shoulder, arms outstretched like she might be a bird.
Darek cleared his throat. “It’s a Pulaski—”
He closed his mouth at the gimlet eye she gave him.
“I’m going to check on Liza,” Conner said and headed up to the house.
Conner closed the door behind him as he came into the lodge and spied Ingrid Christiansen, the matron of the clan, her blonde hair pulled back in a headband, wearing a pink blouse and jeans, piling hot dog buns onto a tray. Next to her, Grace, practically her spitting image, dished chocolate chip cookies onto a plate. A bowl of marshmallows suggested s’mores on the agenda for tonight’s campfire.
“Hey. Is Liza around?”
“She’s outside, on the phone,” Grace said.
“Right. She said something about the reception?”
