Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I crossed my arms, imagining a new range, prep islands, and a serving station. The carpet and the paneling would have to go, and the ceiling tiles could be stripped. White paint, hardwood flooring, and exposed ducts for an industrial-meets-fine-dining feel. This was promising.
“What’s the story here?” I asked. “You don’t see properties like this in a prime location on the market in Pinecrest.”
“The owner passed away last month, and his closest relatives live in Burlington and Montpelier. The business has been in the family since the mid-1950s, but they’ve apparently reached the end of the era. I don’t need to tell you this will get swept up in a hurry. It’s not officially on the market till January first, so…you’re getting a sneak preview.”
“Hmm. And the price?” Somehow, I managed to keep my expression neutral. He had to be joking. The place was a steal. Bryson was right…this would get snatched up immediately. “Okay, thank you.”
“Sure thing.” Bryson pivoted to address Riley while I poked around the kitchen. “Hey, sorry about your concussion. I hope to see you on the ice soon. The Slammers need you.”
Riley smiled. “Thanks. Hockey fan?”
“Heck, yeah. I’m from Philly, so I’m afraid I’m not a Slammers fan per se, but I watch it all. My son is obsessed. He couldn’t believe his luck when Vinnie came home a couple of years ago and took over coaching the juniors. That camp last summer was a huge hit. Jake was absolutely starstruck. You may have seen him in town. A tongue-tied skinny blond kid with braces.” Bryson’s indulgent parental grin was kind of sweet.
“I’ll be sure to say hi,” Riley commented.
“He’ll faint, but that’s cool.” Bryson winked, then threw his arm open, gesturing at the abandoned old pizzeria. “Do you need any more time here?”
“No, this was good. Thank you,” I replied. “I’ll talk to Nolan and get back to you soon.”
“Sounds like a plan. Good to meet you, Riley.”
We said our good-byes on the street and climbed into my SUV. I thought about stopping for a bite to eat, but Pinecrest’s best bistros closed after lunch and I didn’t feel like lingering anyway. Or talking. My mind was buzzing with ideas. I needed space to regroup and think. But I wasn’t ready to go home.
On a sudden whim, I veered right, hugging the curve in the road that led to the lake. I parked under a giant maple tree.
“Where are we?” Riley asked, adjusting the volume on a Rolling Stones classic.
“This is Lake Norman. It’s very small, but it’s deep and the fishing is good. In summer, sailboats are everywhere, and in the winter, it freezes over and there are safe spots to skate.” I pointed out the window and continued in my best travel guide voice. “There’s a path that leads about halfway around the lake. It gets cut off by the forest and though I’m still scarred from my disastrous trip many years ago, they say the campground is very nice.”
Riley snickered. “I bet you’ve been camping dozens of times since you were a teenager.”
“At least fifty.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “Come. Let’s walk to the water. It’s pretty even this late in the year.”
We traversed an overgrown path, dodging low-hanging bare branches till we reached the rocky shore. A copse of trees grew between boulders the size of small cars on one side and gave way to a sandy expanse. The trail I’d mentioned to him began at the end of the beach. I pointed it out as I perched on the closest and flattest boulder, shifting to make room for him.
Twilight painted the horizon in shades of blue and the waxing moon shone on the water like a weak spotlight. It was so calm and quiet, yet teeming with life. Birds twittered, crowed, and hooted in the distance, and deer, moose, and beavers roamed, wary of lurking humans.
Riley drew one knee up and gazed out at the dark, placid lake. “Beautiful.”
“Yes. I don’t come here often enough. It’s a good spot to think and remind myself that we’re all tiny specks of dust in the universe. My troubles are all in my head.” I tapped my temple wryly. “They don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”
“Your friend is right. The pizza place has good bones. It could be a nice restaurant,” he said carefully.
“I agree. I’ll talk to Nolan and see what he thinks about opening a second eatery. Not a diner, though—an elegant gastronomical extravaganza. Who could say no to such an investment, eh?”
“But if he does?”
I sighed. “I’ll have decisions to make. That’s okay. Change is good for the soul. If you’re not changing, you’re not growing. But…let’s not talk about it anymore tonight. My head is spinning too much. Change the topic for us, please.”
“No problem. What’s with the very not boring real estate agent? Talk about false advertising,” he huffed. “I thought he was going to be a shifty-eyed, monosyllabic weirdo. Bryson is fucking hot.”