“I promise. Now, go, so I can make my tea and get back to my show.”
He went because the sooner he left, the sooner Rosie would curl up with her tea, knitting, and her show. But, as he climbed into his truck and fired up the engine, he wondered what was going to happen when the Northern Star opened for the season in a couple of weeks. If Rose hadn’t bounced back to her usual self by then, he was in trouble.
The easy answer was to hire one of the teenage girls in town to help out around the place for a while. They’d done that in the past occasionally, but for the past few years they hadn’t been able to spare the money. They already had a record number of bookings this year, thanks to the woman who handled all the internet stuff for Mitch’s company. She had revamped the lodge’s website and gotten them on Facebook and such, but every dollar they paid extra help was a dollar less in the profit column. Profits were the key to Josh’s freedom, so he’d wash the bedding and scrub the toilets and make the beds himself if he had to.
But he’d worry about that tomorrow. Weekdays were for work, but today was for football, friends and food. Sometimes he was convinced those few hours each Sunday when he could sneak away from the home and business that had consumed his life for as long as he could remember—although when the snow was really good, he couldn’t get away even on Sundays—were the only things that had kept him from just saying “screw it” and walking away.
So he’d drink beer, eat stolen banana bread and yell at the television. Katie would give him a hard time and he’d end up making some stupid bet with her. Hopefully, the Patriots would win and the good mood would carry him through Monday.
But when he parked his truck alongside the few that were already in the yard, Josh didn’t see Katie’s Jeep. She never missed Sunday games at Max’s house, and a glance at the clock told him it was almost time for the kickoff, and the Pats were playing the early game.
With all the germs the people of Whitford had been spreading around the last couple of months, maybe she was sick. The thought dampened his enthusiasm a little. He liked hanging with Katie and he’d even risked the wrath of Rosie to steal oatmeal raisin cookies for her.
He told himself he’d give her a call if she didn’t show or text by the end of the first quarter, just to see if she was sick. Watching football without Katie wouldn’t be quite the same.
*
Katie Davis wedged her ancient but much-loved Jeep Wrangler between two pickups and grabbed the grocery bag of munchies off the passenger seat. She was running late, but one didn’t show up at Max Crawford’s house empty-handed, so she’d run into the market for some junk food. Fran had been in the mood to talk, of course, so paying for a couple bags of chips and three tubs of dip had taken almost fifteen minutes.
The big white truck with Northern Star Lodge on the sides was hard to miss, so she knew Josh was already inside. He made it to Max’s whenever he could, but it was still nice to have the advance warning. She’d become quite the actress over the years of hiding how she really felt about her best buddy, but she still needed a few seconds to take a deep breath before going onstage.
The stage, in this case, being Max Crawford’s living room. He lived alone, loved every sport but golf and tennis, and had the biggest television in Whitford. Nobody was quite sure what he did for a living—something to do with the high-tech security system in his basement, which had Rosie convinced he’d be the inspiration for a future episode of her beloved Criminal Minds. But as long as he had the games in HDTV, and three battered leather sofas, nobody asked too many questions.
Max was in the kitchen when she went in the side door. He was a tall, blond, really built, sports-loving hottie who did absolutely nothing for her. And she’d tried. No matter how often she looked at his handsome face and made a mental catalog of all the reasons he’d be so right for her, however, her body refused to cough up so much as a hiccup in her pulse. Nothing.
“Hey, Katie. Wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”
“Fran was feeling sociable.”
“Ah.” Max took the bag from her and peeked inside. “Yes! Nobody else brought dip. You saved the chips.”
She rolled her eyes and left him with the bag so she could go to his gigantic fridge for a soda. “Bet somebody already stole my corner.”
One of the comfy leather sofas was a sectional and Katie’s favorite spot was the corner. She could pull Max’s Bruins throw blanket off the back and make herself a nest. Even though they all generally sat in the same place, she wouldn’t put it past somebody to take advantage of her being late to steal the prime couch real estate.
“Like Josh would let anybody take your spot.”