Page 135 of Mr. Flirt

But once I hung up the phone, I knew the only things that could possibly provide that solace I so desperately craved were Grandma Millie and Northern Wisconsin.

I’d spent countless summers riding my turquoise bike to the candy store, the dairy, and the ice cream shop, all sacred places before I’d hit the lake. To end the summer, I attended Camp Buttercup. The lake was the one place that offered freedom no matter what was happening at home, and in my childhood, there was always something happening.

“Mom, watch out,” Isabelle screamed and dropped her phone as a deer sprang in front of our Jeep.

Making sure no one was behind us, I slammed on the brakes. We slid to a stop as the deer stood in the road and watched us.

The doe’s eyes connected with mine for a brief second before she bounded toward the woods.

“It’s a good thing Great-Grandpa Renny isn’t alive, or we’d be eating Bambi for dinner.” Isabelle picked up her phone.

We traded a mischievous look, and we both started laughing, knowing she was right.

“It’s going to be weird not having him at the house.” Isabelle twisted in her seat to look at me as I started the car forward again. “He always sat at the kitchen table and grumbled about the ways of the world.”

I nodded. “It is, but I know Grandma Millie will be so happy to see you.”

“Hopefully, she doesn’t die while we’re there.”

My heart stopped, and I glanced at my daughter, noticing a fresh glaze of tears surfacing. Izzy had experienced more loss in the last two years than any teen ever should, but that was how life worked sometimes, and I wanted to do everything in my power to show her that she had an incredible life ahead of her.

Yeah. We needed Buttercup Lake.

I spotted the tiny green sign welcoming us to the town of seven hundred and eighty people and let out a silent sigh and wondered why my husband had kept a key in an envelope with a woman’s name scrawled on it along with the name of this town from our past. To say I was surprised to find something like that tucked in the back of his desk drawer was an understatement.

“Okay, Izzy.” I slowed to the town’s speed limit of twenty-five, and it suddenly felt as if we’d stepped back in time. “Here’s to a summer to remember.”

She removed her earbuds completely and slid them and her phone into her backpack.

“If you say so,” she mumbled.

I reached over and squeezed her knee. “I know so.”

“Isn’t this where you and Dad met?” she asked.

A smile touched my lips, and I nodded, knowing she’d already heard the story countless times. “Yeah. We met the summer I turned eighteen.”

“Dad said you were going with some other guy, but the moment you met Dad, you dropped the other dude like a hot potato.”

I laughed and nodded, remembering the very first night I’d met Tim. “It’s true.”

I was at Buttercup Lake with my summer friends. It was late at night. My boyfriend stood me up, and over walked Tim with a bouquet of roses.

“You know what sold me on your dad?” I asked, looking over at Izzy.

She was the spitting image of Tim.

“What?”

“His dimples.” I grinned, turning down the street to Grandma Millie’s. “The same dimples you have.”

Izzy rolled her eyes, but a glimpse of a smile surfaced.

She sniffled. “I miss him.”

“I miss him too, baby.” I clutched her hand in mine as I drove with my left hand.

This was the most conversation we’d had in months, apart from my telling her we were going to Buttercup Lake for the summer and her tearing through our house in disgust over missing her friends for three months.

---