Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

“It’s fine.” I clicked the end of my pen twice before stopping myself. There was no reason to be irritated with Mike. “And I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. So, one last question: if a fitness center went in up the street, not blocking the view mind you, but something that fit in nicely with the area, would you use it?”

Mike patted his belly and then flexed his right arm. “Well, I have no reason to use it, obviously.” His deep laugh rang across the store, and a few customers glanced at him. “All kidding aside, yeah, I’d go. Having one close would force me to stop procrastinating.”

Procrastinating? Is that what he liked to call it? Since we’d been coming up to the lake, Mike had been telling me how he had big plans for an exercise regimen. I had yet to see it happen. “All right. That’s useful data. I’ll see you later—when the kids want ice cream.” I tapped the counter with my pen and backed toward the door.

“I bet I can predict what flavors they’ll get this afternoon,” Mike said. “Wouldn’t it be great to have their metabolisms?”

“My point exactly, my friend.” As the door closed behind me, a smile spread across my face. It felt good.

.    .    .    .    .

The next on my list? The hotel. It had a twenty-four-hour fitness room for the guests, but what about the employees? How would they feel about a place, as close to on-site as possible without being on-site, to work out after a long day on the job? Turns out, they’d feel just fine about it: all the employees I surveyed gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up.

After the hotel, I popped my head into the always-busy restaurant, the antique store, and the post office. The pop-up shops that sold seasonal clothing, accessories, and tattoos had closed months before, but we could always send them a survey via email or snail mail. I noted the thought on the clipboard, along with a few store names and descriptions.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Lena. Kids are fine. Just checking in with you. All okay?

Had Sadie set her up to do this? The day before with Lena had been comfortable. The kids took to her like they would Brooke, and she had been helpful but not smothering. The situation felt less like she was babysitting me than I thought it would.

Yep. Still making my rounds. Kids okay?

Yes. We’re outside in the yard. Thank goodness for this weather.

We’d been lucky. While we needed jackets and long pants, I had originally thought we’d be dealing with snow and ice. Most of the country was experiencing a warm spell, and Walloon was no exception. When I was finished with this task, I’d like to come back to the lake and have the kids dip their feet in. The water would be frigid again, but we’d have fun. Lena could get them ready.

Do the kids want to dip their feet in the lake this morning?

All three say yes. To today and tomorrow!

Ha! Can you get them ready? I’ll be back soon.

Sure can.

Thanks.

The next text that came through showed a lineup of emojis: a unicorn, a star, a heart, a birthday cake, and four smiley faces. Lexie.

And then a new text from Lena: Sorry. Lexie grabbed the phone!

Not a problem. See you in a few.

Lexie confiscated phones often, which is why Brooke always put hers on top of the countertop microwave and set the ringer to the highest setting so she’d hear it no matter which room of the house she was in. Lena would learn, quickly, how to deal with the little imp. The thought of Lexie, Charlie, and Delia—

Someone up ahead drew my attention as I rounded the corner of the post office. From the back, the man looked like Andrew, but that didn’t make any sense. His company was back in Kettering. The man ducked into the general store, and I shook my head. That project of Andrew’s had been on my mind so much lately I was seeing things. He wasn’t here, was he?

The thing about a veteran with PTSD is this: when in the throes of recovery, we can still be paranoid. And the thought of Andrew MacKinnon, a man I didn’t know too much about, being in a place I was? That sounded just too convenient. My pulse slammed against my skull, and my breathing staggered. How had the thought of him triggered me? I had to find out if it was him or not and what he was doing here.

I could send a text, but I had to be cool about it.

Hey. Just tossing the idea of future proposals around in my head. Leaning toward a yes. You busy?

His text came back in an instant. Yes, I’m working on a couple things right now. Aren’t you out-of-state anyway? Shouldn’t you be relaxing?

I am out-of-state, but my mind doesn’t stop. And I thought I just saw you.

Way to be direct, Theo. My foot tapped a steady rhythm against the concrete, and my hands shook as I waited for his reply. What did I expect him to say? Why in God’s name would he be here, at Walloon Lake? Instead of an affirmative or negative reply, an undeliverable message popped up. Damn! The service here had often been spotty in the past and now here again. As I contemplated heading to the coffee shop, my phone vibrated with a text—another from Lena. What was so special about what she had to say that her texts were all deemed deliverable and some of mine weren’t?

Kids almost ready. Do you want us to meet you at the beach?

I looked up at the sky—part blue, part white, with the sun cresting right above me—and closed my eyes. Lena’s texts concerned the kids, so any message she sent should come through. Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three.

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