Page 14 of Take This Heart
“It’d be an experience we’d never forget,” Dad says, his eyes bright. “And the legacy would live on forever.”
Camden rubs the back of his neck. “Yes, it would, but I’ve got the restaurant. It’s going really well, and it’s all hands on deck.”
Dylan nods. “I’m probably the most flexible of any of us, but my surfing and board repair shop is doing well too. I’d lose momentum if I left it in anyone else’s hands right now.”
Noah puts his arm around Dad’s shoulder. “I could help consult, but moving up here full-time would be a challenge.”
Dad turns to me. I already know the look in his eyes before he speaks—hope, bordering on pleading. “Goldie? You bought a place in Lake Nokomis. You’re the closest. I figured?—”
“If I’d known you were thinking about this,” I cut in, "I wouldn’t have bought that house.” I feel bad as soon as I’ve said it. “It’s amazing, Dad. I want this for you. Once the installation is behind me, I can put more thought into this with you.”
He smiles and silence falls over the bluff.
“I didn’t mean to blindside you,” Dad says, softer now. “But this opportunity...it’s everything I’ve worked toward. And I’d rather build something with my family than just about anything.”
I want to let him pull me into his vision. But I glance again at the dilapidated cabins barely visible through the trees. Their shutters hang loose. The paint is peeling. Roofs sag. It’s not just a fixer-upper—it needs a resurrection.
“Milo said we’ve got the bones of something good here.You should see the mood boards and plans we discussed before you got here yesterday.”
Tully raises his brows, looking at Milo. “You have mood boards?”
“Your dad brought them,” Milo says quietly.
Dad grins, looking around at all of us. “Yes, I did. Because it’s happening, kids. I’m not giving up on this. If you can’t be here full-time, maybe part-time? Summers. Holidays. Weekends...”
Noah shakes his head. “My time’s not as flexible as it used to be. Grayson’s in preschool.”
Camden sighs. “We all want this place to thrive for you, Dad, but we’ve got careers…commitments.”
“I know,” Dad says, the brightness in his eyes dimming just a little. “I know. It’s just...I look at this land, and I see all of you. I see bonfires and late-night swims. I see your mom’s wind chimes on the porch. I see the life we had here, and I want that back. Not the past—just...something new that still feels like home. Working on this project together would be a huge expansion of what we’ve already had here, and it’d also be something new. New memories, new history being made.”
Something cracks in my chest at that.
We walk a little more. Nobody talks, each of us in our own thoughts. The old trail loops down toward the lake, where the remnants of the old dock jut out. Tully crouches to pick up a smooth stone, flipping it in his hand like he used to when we were kids. He used to claim he could tell fortunes with lake rocks.
“This one says we’re all doomed,” he jokes, tossing it into the water.
It skips once, twice, then sinks.
Thoughts about Milo filter in, without my permission. I watch him talking to my brothers, laughing even. But there’ssomething about him—something restrained, elusive. Like he’s constantly measuring what he says. Holding something back. I haven’t figured him out yet, and that unsettles me. Sometimes though, especially when he’s laughing like he is right now, I forget how much I dislike him. Just for a second.
Instead, I think about the beautiful structures he’s masterminded and wonder how his mind works. What inspires him?
It’s a lightbulb moment.
“We could do it differently,” I say, whirling around to face everyone. “Not just the wellness retreat Dad mentioned. Studio spaces. An artist’s retreat. Nature conservation internships. If we want to keep the integrity of the place, that’s one way to do it. Blend the old with the new. Have a place that inspires people whose wells are empty…or a getaway for anyone needing that extra spark and space for creativity.”
Everyone blinks at me. Milo’s eyes narrow on me. Because it’s not a bad idea and he knows it.
Dad crosses his arms. “Hmm. I’ll think about it. Seems like that would leave out the family vibes I’m thinking about. But a board of investors would eat it up.”
“Families could still vacation here. There’s room for everyone,” I say, lifting my shoulder.
“A thousand acres is something to work with, all right.” Noah whistles.
“Lots to think about, right?” Dad says. “At least let me believe you’rethinkingabout helping me.” He laughs. “Come on, let’s head back. I’ve got some meat in the smoker.”
We start the trek back, teasing Dad about all the cooking he’s doing now. It’s a relatively new thing for him to be cooking and he’s surprisingly good at it. The clouds shift and sunlight breaks through, warming our backs. For a moment, I just soak in the contentment of having all of us in one place. It’d be amazing to work on something like this together, but italso seems impossible that we’d all give up our careers to focus on this.
