Page 1 of Summer Weddings
FATHER’S DAY
Chapter1
“Ican’t believe I’m doing this,” Robin Masterson muttered as she crawled into the makeshift tent, which was pitched over the clothesline in the backyard of her new home.
“Come on, Mom,” ten-year-old Jeff urged, shifting to make room for her. “It’s nice and warm in here.”
Down on all fours, a flashlight in one hand, Robin squeezed her way inside. Jeff had constructed the flimsy tent using clothespegs to hold up the blankets and rocks to secure the base. The space was tight, but she managed to maneuver into her sleeping bag.
“Isn’t this great?” Jeff asked. He stuck his head out of the front opening and gazed at the dark sky and the spattering of stars that winked back at them. On second thought, Robin decided they were laughing at her, those stars. And with good reason. There probably wasn’t another thirty-year-old woman in the entire state of California who would’ve agreed to this craziness.
It was the first night in their new house and Robin was exhausted. They’d started moving out of the apartment before five that morning and she’d just finished unpacking the last box. The beds were assembled, but Jeff wouldn’t hear of doing anything as mundane as sleeping on a real mattress. After waiting years to camp out in his own backyard, her son wasn’t about to delay the adventure by even one night.
Robin couldn’t let him sleep outside alone and, since he hadn’t met any neighbors yet, there was only one option left. Surely there’d be a Mother of the Year award in this for her.
“You want to hear a joke?” Jeff asked, rolling on to his back and nudging her.
“Sure.” She swallowed a yawn, hoping she could stay awake long enough to laugh at the appropriate time. She needn’t have worried.
For the next half hour, Robin was entertained with a series of riddles, nonsense rhymes and off-key renditions of Jeff’s favourite songs from summer camp.
“Knock knock,” she said when it appeared her son had run through his repertoire.
“Who’s there?”
“Wanda.”
“Wanda who?”
“Wanda who thinks up these silly jokes?”
Jeff laughed as though she’d come up with the funniest line ever devised. Her son’s enthusiasm couldn’t help but rub off on Robin and some of her weariness eased. Camping was fun—sort of. But it’d been years since she’d slept on the ground and, frankly, she couldn’t remember it being quite this hard.
“Do you think we’ll be warm enough?” she teased. Jeff had used every blanket they owned, first to construct the tent and then to pad it. To be on the safe side, two or three more were piled on top of their sleeping bags on the off-chance an arctic frost descended upon them. It was spring, but a San Francisco spring could be chilly.
“Sure,” he answered, missing the kidding note in her voice. “But if you get cold, you can have one of mine.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“You hungry?”
Now that she thought about it, she was. “Sure. Whatcha got?”
Jeff disappeared into his sleeping bag and returned a moment later with a limp package of licorice, a small plastic bag full of squashed marshmallows and a flattened box of raisins. Robin declined the snack.
“When are we going to buy me my dog?” Jeff asked, chewing loudly on the raisins.
Robin listened to the sound and said nothing.
“Mom…the dog?” he repeated after a few minutes.
Robin had been dreading that question most of the day. She’d managed to forestall Jeff for the past month by telling him they’d discuss getting a dog after they were settled in their house.
“I thought we’d start looking for ads in the paper first thing tomorrow,” Jeff said, still munching.
“I’m not sure when we’ll start the search for the right dog.” She was a coward, Robin freely admitted it, but she hated to disappoint Jeff. He had his heart set on a dog. How like his father he was, in his love for animals.
“I want a big one, you know. None of those fancy little poodles or anything.”
