Page 9 of If the Summer Lasted Forever
“I’m just saying I saw you two talking,” she says with a laugh, raising her hands in surrender. Her hair is red. Not brown with natural red highlights like mine—red. Every day she takes the time to straighten it, smooth it to perfection, and make it shine…and then she yanks it into a ponytail before lunch because it drives her crazy. She’s tall and willowy—like an overgrown pixie. I take after her, but at five-nine, she’s got two inches on me.
Uncle Mark smiles at his cards, but it’s a seasick sort of look, one that makes me think he wishes we would change the subject.My dad passed away when I was six, so Uncle Mark stepped in to help with the RV park so Mom wouldn’t have to sell. I have no doubt that he’s just as protective of me as my own dad would have been.
He lives in one of the cabins, but he eats with us every night. He dated some when I was younger, and my biggest fear was that he’d get married and leave us. But for some reason, he never did.
“We were just talking.” I discard a ten of hearts and tap the rest of my cards on the table, feeling jittery.
I don’t want to talk about Landon.
Mark leans forward to pick up the pile, and I shake my head. “You don’t want to do that. Mom’s about to go out.”
Mark looks over. Noticing the solitary card sitting face-down on the table in front of Mom, he pulls back his hand.
“His mom is nice,” my mother continues, refusing to drop the subject. “I met her yesterday when I was checking one of the sites. I’m going to let her borrow my sewing machine for the summer.”
I fold my hands and set my chin on the table as I wait for her to discard so I can take my turn. “How did that come up?”
Mom shrugs, studying her card, probably wishing it would turn into something that would play. “She asked me about my art, and one thing led to another.”
The doorbell rings before we get to my turn. It’s almost nine, but we’re supposed to have a late arrival tonight. I told the man on the phone to drive right to his site, but maybe he can’t find it.
Mark pushes back his seat, but I hop up first. “I’ll take care of it.”
Instead of a lost camper, I find Paige on the doorstep. “Can you take tomorrow off?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Hi, Paige,” Uncle Mark says from behind me, setting his hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, Mr. Mark.” She grins. I can tell from her tone she’s about to go over my head. “I helped Dad clean our garage, and he said Lacey and I can go out on his boat tomorrow. If it’s all right with you.”
“I have ten check-ins scheduled,” I start to protest. “And I have to water the barrels…”
Mom wanders up, smiling when she sees Paige. “I’ll water your flowers, Lacey. It’s summer—go have fun.”
“And I’ll take the cart around tomorrow evening to complete the check-ins,” Mark adds.
“Then it’s a date!” Paige chirps, worrying me. She’s plotting something. Before I can drag it out of her, she runs down the porch steps. “See you tomorrow morning.”
“Wait, Paige?—”
“I’ll be here at nine!”
And then she slips around the massive hedge of chokecherry bushes and disappears.
I shake my head as I close the door.
“I was going to ask if she wanted to stay for dessert,” Mom says, “but she took off too fast.”
“I’ll take dessert,” Mark unnecessarily says—he’s always game for sweets. “What did you make?”
She gives him an indulgent smile and swats his arm. “We’re just getting some good strawberries in, so I made shortcake.”
Mom’s shortcake is the angel food cake variety—homemade, not store-bought. It’s amazing. And worth sticking around for, even when she returns to the table and says, “Now, back to Landon.”
“I don’t think we were talking about Landon anymore,” I protest.
“I think you should offer to show him around.”
