Max felt totally out of place on the Lakeshore Road bus. He didn’t know any of the kids on this route. He didn’t have a usual seat. So once again, he was an outsider. A stranger, getting looks of suspicion as he approached the bus.
With his backpack and sports bag dragging at his shoulder like a load of granite, he climbed aboard, showing his permission slip to an indifferent driver, who simply nodded. The bus, like all buses that served Avalon Middle School, was crowded with kids who represented a cross-section of the school population—girls who spoke only in either squeals or whispers, library geeks who tried to make themselves disappear into the pages of a fantasy novel, loud jocks whose mission it was to use as many cuss words as possible every time they opened their mouths, and a smattering of regular kids. Max considered himself one of these. A kid who is neither smart nor dumb, cool nor dorky, just somewhere in between.
He hesitated in the middle of the aisle, scanning for an empty seat and trying not to look too frantic about it. Every seat was taken, so he’d need to plunk down next to some other kid. But which kid? The one staring mesmerized at a handheld game probably wouldn’t notice him at all. He headed for the empty spot.
“Taken,” the kid said tonelessly, without looking up. “Sorry.”
Max moved on. There were way too many girls on this bus. He found himself choosing between a space cadet named Kolby who was in his science class, and a fat girl with an angry look on her face.
Somebody shoved him from behind. “Sit down, will you?”
Max plopped down next to the fat girl. Maybe she wouldn’t try to talk to him.
“Did I say you could sit there?”
“Nope,” Max said. He pulled his backpack into his lap and shoved his sports bag under the seat. Then he pushed his knees against the back of the seat in front of him.
“Maybe I was saving it.”
“Maybe you weren’t.”
“That pisses me off.”
“Too bad.”
“I’m Chelsea,” the girl said.
So much for picking someone who didn’t want to talk. “Max,” he said, staring straight ahead.
“What are you doing on this bus?”
“Going to my mom’s.” He hated the sound of that. For most kids, going home and going to your mom’s were the same thing. Not for Max. At least he didn’t have to fly all night to see her, though, like he used to when she lived in Holland. So that was progress. Maybe.
“Where does she live?” Chelsea asked.
“Lakeshore Road.”
“I live on that road, too,” she said.
Ooh, let’s be best friends.
“It’s the last stop,” she informed him. “End of the line. I’m always last to get home. That pisses me off.”
Max took out his mobile phone. He didn’t really need to get in touch with anyone, but he figured if he looked busy, maybe fat, pissed-off Chelsea would quit talking. For want of something better to do, he texted Dubois: u on 4 practice 2day? He kept his hand cupped around the screen so Chelsea wouldn’t see. He already knew Dubois was going to hockey practice. So was his other friend, Altshuler. Their parents took turns. Today, Max’s mom would be driving the car pool for the first time. She’d just leased an all-wheel-drive minivan, a real soccer-mom car, she called it.
Max shut his phone and stuck it in his pocket. His dad placed restrictions on his use of it and studied the bill each month to make sure Max was complying. If Dad had his way, Max wouldn’t even have a phone. Its main purpose, Max knew, was for his mom to have a way to call him, and only him. She hated when she called the house and dad or Nina picked up. So Max got his own phone and Mom got her own ring tone—“I Go to Sleep” by the Pretenders.
The bus lurched and lumbered along its prescribed route, rumbling to a halt at each stop. Its brakes gnashed and hissed as it pulled over every few minutes to disgorge passengers. As soon as the geeky girl across the aisle vacated her seat, Max made a dive for it, dragging along his sports bag and backpack. He smashed himself against the window and gazed out, his breath fanning across the glass.
Unfortunately, being ditched didn’t stop Chelsea from talking. Even though he gave the most minimal response he could without being completely rude, she kept yakking away. The list of things that pissed her off grew at every bend in the road—the fact that most of the snow days had been used up for the school year and it was only February. The fact that you couldn’t get cable TV out on Lakeshore Road. The show “High School Musical,” which she had to watch at a friends’ house because she didn’t get cable. The price of a lift ticket at Saddle Mountain, where she and her grandpa went skiing every weekend.
“Do you ski?” she asked Max, finally ending the litany.
“Snowboard,” he said.
“That’s awesome. I’ve been wanting to learn, but my grandparents don’t want to get me new equipment. That pisses me off.”
Of course it did. There were things that pissed Max off, too, although he didn’t go around reciting them for anyone to hear. Flunking a test and then having to get it signed by his dad—that pissed him off. Having a bunch of new stepcousins he didn’t know—that sucked, too. Not knowing what your mom’s house looked like. Feeling torn between his mom and his dad. Knowing he had a totally boring weekend ahead of him. Now that he thought about it, there were a lot of things that pissed him off.
The route was starting to feel endless. At least the scenery was good. Willow Lake was pretty much Max’s favorite thing about living in Avalon. His dad’s property even had a dock, which in the summer was perfect for fishing off of, or getting a running start and diving into the lake. Even though the water was so cold it made your balls shrivel and your scalp scream, it was totally worth it to plunge in on a hot summer day.
In the winter, the whole lake froze. The city had an inspector who tested the ice on a regular basis to make sure it was at least four inches thick. Max’s dad and stepmom didn’t allow skating at the Inn at Willow Lake because they didn’t want any of their guests getting hurt. He wondered if there was any skating to be done at his mom’s house.
His mom now had a house in Avalon. He’d never expected her to move here.
“So where’s your house again?” Chelsea asked, as if he’d already told her, which he hadn’t.
“Across from the Shepherd Dairy,” he said. His mom had told him to watch for a big barn—the only barn visible from the road. It had the dairy logo of a cow painted on the side. According to his mom, the place didn’t operate as a dairy anymore. The guy they’d met in the restaurant that night had turned it into an animal hospital.
“That’s my stop, too,” Chelsea declared. “I work part time at Dr. Shepherd’s, helping him take care of the animals.”
To Max, that sounded semi-interesting, though he wasn’t about to let on to this girl that he was curious.
“I’ll show you where to get off,” she said.
“Great.” Like he couldn’t find a barn on his own.
The bus swayed, causing his sports bag to slide. He grabbed it and stared out the window. Just for a moment, the sight shocked him. There was a high snowbank next to the road, then a sheer drop-off. Max’s stomach clenched. He wasn’t really afraid. It was just a reaction to looking out the window and seeing nothing but thin air. They wouldn’t let a school bus go along a road that was unsafe. Plus, the driver was only crawling along, going probably twice as slow as necessary.
“There’s an old story,” Chelsea said, “that like, fifty years ago, a car went off the road right here and killed a man and woman who were headed to the Inn at Willow Lake for their honeymoon.”
“Is it true?”
“My grandpa says yes, but I don’t think he knows for sure. According to the story, the car and the bodies were never found because the lake’s too deep here.” She started gathering up her things. “Almost there.”
The barn came into view just as his mom had described it. Finally.
Max could see about five houses crouched along the lakeshore. A thread of smoke came from the chimney of one cottage. Mom had said to find the mailbox colored in bright yellow smiley faces. He wondered if she was watching out the window, if she could see the bus coming around the bend in the road.
“Here we are,” Chelsea announced.
Three other kids headed for the exit. Max murmured a thank-you to the driver and jumped down, taking care not to slip on the frozen ground.
The three other kids—two boys and a girl—hiked up the lane that branched off the main road. They paused in a tight cluster and lit up cigarettes.
“Eighth-graders,” Chelsea said, her tone conveying clear disapproval. “I can’t stand smoking. Pisses me off. Well. Guess I’ll see you around.”
Not if I see you first, Max thought. Eager to get away, he headed across the road and found the designated landmark, the smiley-face mailbox. Someone had carefully dug the snow around it so that it was clearly visible. His mom had probably done that. She often acted as though he were an idiot. She had offered to hike up the driveway and meet the bus, but Max had declined. Mothers did that for kindergartners, not that his mom would know about that. As far as Max knew, she’d never met a school bus in her life.
From the moment she’d watched the bus round the bend in the road, Sophie had been holding her breath, catching herself and then holding it again. She wondered if there would ever be a time when she could look at something like this without tensing up and feeling assaulted by memories of that snowy night.
Was it warm enough in here? She checked the thermostat. Added a log to the fire. She was getting good at making fires in the wood-burning stove. Even though this was a borrowed house, it was her world and she desperately wanted Max to like it.
At the stomping sound of his footsteps on the porch, she opened the door. “There you are,” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”
“Hey.”
He offered her a brief hug that held more tolerance than affection.
Sophie found herself babbling—“You can put your coat on a hook right there. Let me show you your room. How about a snack? Tell me about your day…
“Sorry,” she concluded. “I don’t mean to go on and on. I’m just excited to have you here.”
“It’s a nice place,” he remarked, looking around at the vintage Adirondack-style furniture, the tattersall blankets, the crackling fire in the window of the stove.
She nodded. “I really love it, even if it’s a bit out of the way. The Wilsons were so nice to lend it to me.”
“Since they lent it to you, when do you have to give it back?”
Ah, she thought. A test. “Once I get my own place,” she said. “In Avalon. I’m here to stay, Max.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I know you don’t. But you will, eventually. Are you ready for a snack? The neighbor brought over some muffins. And I’ll make us some hot chocolate. You like hot chocolate, don’t you?”
“Actually, I’m a coffee drinker myself.”
It took her a moment to realize he was pulling her leg. “Coffee stunts your growth.”
“Right.”
While she put on a pan of milk, he explored the place. He was drawn to the sprawling view of the lake out the window, of course. That view was the whole point of the cottage, after all, the main window a frame for the wild beauty of the landscape. He seemed to like the Niagara Falls souvenir lamp with the animated shade. Like all kids—like Sophie herself—he stood on tiptoe to look down inside the shade to see how the waterfall worked.
“That’s interesting, isn’t it?” she remarked. “I mean, it’s just a color wheel going around and around, but it looks so realistic on the outside.”
“Uh-huh.” He acted noncommittal. “So I hear you don’t get cable out here.”
“The TV seems to get perhaps three or four stations. I haven’t been watching much.” She measured a scoop of Dutch cocoa into the pan. It was one of the few items she had brought back from Holland. It made the best hot chocolate by far. “What do you like to watch on TV?” she asked. “Do you have a favorite show?”
“I watch stuff on cable,” he said bluntly.
Oh, boy.
When she’d visited him prior to this, each day together had been deemed “special” and TV-watching wasn’t an issue. Now that she actually lived here, the visits would become more routine. Things like TV might start to matter. She hadn’t thought about that.
“There’s a DVD player,” she said, “and I noticed a nice selection of movies in that cabinet. Some of my favorites.”
“You have a favorite movie?”
“Harold and Maude,” she said, without even thinking. Of course that was her favorite movie. She couldn’t believe it wasn’t everyone’s favorite movie.
“Never seen it.” He opened the cabinet and perused the selection. His expressive face clearly indicated that he didn’t share the Wilsons’ taste for imports and art films.
“We’ll watch it together,” Sophie suggested.
“What’s it about?”
“A kid whose domineering mother drives him crazy.”
“Sounds like a laugh a minute,” Max said.
It was a strained afternoon, during which Max consumed four muffins, finished his homework, declined a game of cribbage and lasted through exactly seven minutes of Judge Judy. Sophie made things worse by insisting on leaving extra early to pick up his two friends for hockey practice, just in case the roads were bad. As a result, the friends weren’t ready when they showed up and she had to sit there with the car idling while they threw together their gear. She’d hoped the boys’ mothers might come out to the car to meet her, or even invite her in, but they didn’t. She wanted to make friends here in Avalon, but perhaps car-pool pickup wasn’t the best time to socialize.
The boys didn’t have a lot to say during the drive to the hockey rink—not to her, anyway. Among themselves, they appeared to communicate in some private, incomprehensible language that involved elbowing and snickering.
At the rink, she introduced herself to the coach, who didn’t look much older than Max himself, an apple-cheeked, eager man with a somewhat high-pitched voice. Once on the ice, though, the boys seemed to respect him as they went through warm-ups and drills.
Sophie joined a group of mothers who sat in the ringside bleachers behind a Plexiglas barrier, and felt the other women scrutinizing her. This, she knew, was going to be the hard part. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her bag from Italy, her designer belt and gloves. She was overdressed and clearly hadn’t mastered the soccer-mom look. She wanted to. She wanted to look relaxed in sweats; she wanted to be comfortable in her own skin. She had a long way to go.
“I’m Max’s mom, Sophie Bellamy,” she said to the women, and then memorized their names as they introduced themselves. “Do you mind if I join you?”
The line of mothers shifted to make room for her.
“Ellie,” said one woman. She was knitting something, a string of brightly colored yarn coming out of her bag.
“Max’s mother.” A woman named Gretchen lifted her eyebrows. She exchanged a look with the one beside her, who had pretty, olive-toned skin, glossy dark hair and unfriendly eyes. “Maria, it’s Max’s mother.”
Maria folded her arms across her middle. “You don’t say.”
“It’s nice to meet you at last,” said the woman who had introduced herself as Gina. Either consciously or unconsciously, she emphasized the at last.
“You still go by the name Bellamy,” Maria observed. “Wasn’t that your married name?”
Sophie nodded, assimilating the reality that here in a small town, people knew each other’s business. “In my profession—all my licenses and certifications are in that name. Everything I’ve published, too.” As she explained, she watched their faces and realized she should have given them a simple, politically correct explanation—I wanted to keep the same name as my children. Too late. If she said that now, it would sound as though she had just thought of it.
“Aren’t you the one who’s been living in Europe?” the woman named Vickie asked.
Oh. So that’s where this is going, thought Sophie. She could tell from the tone of the question and from the looks she was getting from the women that they were not okay with her choice. She decided to confront the issue head-on. In the year since she’d been apart from her kids, she had discovered that one of the most awkward aspects of the arrangement was actually explaining it.
People might think they had open minds about today’s families, but that tolerance only went so far. They live with their dad ranked right up there with They’ve never been to the doctor or They’re allowed to smoke. In the eyes of the world, Sophie knew what these women were thinking. She was a terrible person, a woman who had turned her back on her children in their time of greatest need, the aftermath of divorce. What kind of mother would do that?
“That’s right,” Sophie said. “In The Hague, Holland.”
“Must’ve been so exciting for you.”
“It was, sometimes.” She cautioned herself not to get defensive. For Max’s sake, she wanted to get along with his friends’ moms. Yet among these women, she felt a distinct prickle of discomfort. She used to be defined by her career, prosecutor, diplomat. Now that she had no career, what would define her? Being a mom? Would that be enough to gain acceptance into this chilly tribe?
“We had this image of you as a jet-setter with a string of mysterious, foreign lovers,” Ellie said.
“I’m sure you’re joking,” Sophie said. She wasn’t sure, though.
“I always wanted to get away to Europe, but my family needs me,” said Maria.
“Same here. I’ll wait until mine are grown,” Gretchen agreed.
“I flew to New York on a regular basis,” Sophie explained, “to work at the UN and see my kids. And Max visited me in The Hague several times.”
“Don’t you have a daughter, too?” Gina asked. Their scrutiny burned like the glare of an interrogation light. “In high school?”
“Daisy,” Sophie said. “She just started college in New Paltz.”
“Daisy. Didn’t she used to work at the bakery?” Vickie asked.
“Oh, that one,” Gretchen said. “I’m so sorry about…what happened.”
Sophie took a direct hit on that one. There would never be any definitive explanation as to why Daisy had been so rebellious, so angry and careless. Sophie could ask herself until the cows came home if it had happened due to the divorce, or if it would’ve happened anyway. She told herself not to take the bait of this woman’s phony condolences. “Actually, I’m extremely proud of my daughter.”
“What happened?” asked Ellie. “I didn’t hear. Is she all right?”
“Daisy is fine,” Sophie assured her.
“And the baby, too, right?” Gina said.
The others exchanged glances of surprise. “Your daughter has a baby?” Ellie asked.
“My grandson, Charles,” Sophie informed them. “We all adore him.”
Maria leaned over to one of the other women and said something in an undertone, but Sophie caught the tail end of it, “…out of wedlock.”
Sophie was so surprised by the attack that she laughed. “Tell me you didn’t just say ‘out of wedlock.’”
Maria looked unrepentant. “You mean she’s married?”
“No, but—”
“Ricky, watch out!” Maria was on her feet, yelling to a dark-haired boy on the ice. “Don’t turn your back on number forty-seven.”
That was Max’s number.
“Your son plays rough,” Maria said. “Didn’t he have some kind of meltdown last summer and get kicked off his Little League team?” Maria persisted.
“He was invited to work for the Hornets,” Sophie pointed out. She hoped she’d gotten the story right. Keeping stats for the Hornets—Avalon’s independent baseball team—was a privilege. At least, that was how Max had explained it to her. She reminded herself not to get defensive. She had dealt with international criminals. She could handle vindictive women, surely.
Vickie shook her head and added to the chorus of sympathy. “I suppose all kids deal with divorce in their own way.”
“I guess you all have a pretty clear picture of my family,” Sophie said. “I went jetting off to Europe to be with my foreign lover and left my poor kids to suffer and get in trouble. God, I don’t believe you women. What century are you living in?”
“We’re not trying to pick a fight,” Gretchen said. “Just trying to understand the situation.”
“The situation,” Sophie said, “is none of your business.”
“This is the kind of town where people care about one another.”
Where people gossip and judge, Sophie realized. And she had chosen to move here. To live here. With women like this.
“Just to be clear,” she said, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. In her profession she was used to confrontation and arguments. This was supposed to be second nature to her, but she was inches from losing it. “I lived in a furnished apartment within walking distance of the court building and I worked twelve-hour days on human rights cases. I missed my kids every damn minute but they couldn’t be with both of us. And—news flash, ladies—we’re not the first family that’s gone through a divorce.”
“Of course you’re not,” Ellie said. “Lots of families handle it just fine.”
The condescending attitude grated on Sophie. She decided to bite her tongue. She had put her career first. The fact that these women were horrible didn’t change that. She needed to move on from here.
A hockey puck cracked against the Plexiglas with a sound like a gunshot. Reflexively, Sophie raised her arms to shield her face. Then a whistle shrilled, signaling the end of practice. Thank God. Sophie leaped to her feet. It couldn’t end soon enough for her.
“You ladies have a nice weekend,” she said, garnering insincere smiles and assurances. As she walked out into the cold winter evening with her three charges, she wished she could get in the car and drive, and keep driving until she came to the end of the world.
No. That was the old Sophie’s way of thinking. The new Sophie didn’t run from trouble.
“How was practice?” she asked, reminding herself to drive slowly and calmly.
“Okay,” the boys replied, predictably noncommittal. She knew better than to ask. She should, anyway.
“So you met Aunt Maria,” Max said.
Sophie stopped, car keys in hands. “Aunt Maria?”
“She likes me to call her that,” he explained. “You know, on account of her being Nina’s sister.”
“That woman is Nina’s sister?” Sophie should have seen the family resemblance—the olive-toned skin, the glossy hair, the flashing dark eyes.
“Yep.”
“She is the sister of Nina—your brand-new stepmother.”
“Mom. That’s what I just said.”
She glared at him in the rearview mirror. “And you couldn’t have perhaps given me a little clue about that? Maybe just a hint?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
It was, Sophie realized, one of the unknown hazards of small-town life. You never knew who you were going to run into.
When she got home, Noah called her while Max was in the shower. “I want to see you tonight.”
Even the sound of his voice was a form of foreplay. She stepped into the bedroom for privacy. “Is this what’s known as a booty call? I have to say, I’ve never been the recipient of a booty call before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“My son, Max, is spending the weekend with me.”
A pause. “How’s that going?” He sounded slightly chastened.
“He’s so bored he can hardly see straight.”
“Bring him over tomorrow. I’ll show him around my place. You don’t even have to call first. Just show up.”
“Thanks, Noah, but I don’t think so. For all I know, by tomorrow he’ll be begging me to take him back to his dad’s.”
“My son finds me boring,” Sophie said to Gayle Wright the next day. Sophie had adopted the habit of going on a morning run, exploring the splendor of the snowy lanes and trails along the lake. Noah had taken her to buy a special kind of trail shoe made for traction on snow and ice. At the end of her run, she often stopped to visit with Gayle when her neighbor was out playing with her children.
Gayle, presiding over the construction of a lopsided snowman, regarded her with concern. “He’s twelve, right? What twelve-year-old ever finds his parents interesting? It’s practically a law that he’s supposed to find you either boring or embarrassing.”
“I’m right on track, then.” Sophie took a drink from her water bottle. “I had this whole grand vision of how this weekend was going to be so perfect. Instead, I got in a cat-fight with the other hockey moms—”
“No way.”
“Oh, yes. Way. And he liked your muffins but hated my sloppy joes. They used to be his favorite. Now he’s into Italian cuisine. Nina is Italian. She’s probably a great cook.”
“Don’t make comparisons,” Gale reminded her. “That way lies madness.”
“He fell asleep during Harold and Maude.”
“Now that’s a problem.”
“I know. What kind of person hates Harold and Maude?” While Sophie had sat, transfixed and weeping over her favorite film, Max had fallen asleep on the sofa. She had to prod him awake just so he could shuffle off to bed. When she left him for her morning jog, he’d still been sound asleep. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with him today.”
“Take him skating on the lake.”
“Okay, that covers the first hour. Then what?”
“You don’t have to do anything.” Gayle bent down and fixed Mandy’s mitten, which had come untucked from her sleeve. “Just be with him, the way you were when he was little.”
Sophie swallowed hard. “I can’t say for sure that I ever did that.”
“Of course you did. You probably don’t remember.”
Sophie didn’t argue, but neither did she agree. When Max was little, she’d been busy rushing off from one place to another.
“Take him to see Noah,” Gayle suggested.
Just hearing Noah’s name caused Sophie to have an unbidden reaction. She was glad for the cold air, which concealed her blush. “People take their Weimaraners to see Noah,” she said. “Not their bored sons.”
“Noah would like it. He’s crazy about kids.”
Sophie wondered if Gayle suspected…no, not possible. No one knew. No one would ever know. “He’s probably too busy,” she hedged. Even though Noah himself had extended an invitation last night, she suspected he’d done so out of politeness.
“Not on a Saturday,” Gayle said. “He doesn’t have clinic hours on Saturdays.”
Sophie offered a noncommittal shrug. “I might, then.”
“Mo-om,” yelled Henry, her eldest. “Come and see my tunnel before Bear wrecks it.”
Sophie stomped her feet on the ground to keep them from going numb. “I’d better go. I work up a sweat when I run, but I get too cold standing still.”
“Give Noah a shot—I think he and Max would hit it off,” Gayle said, never knowing—Sophie hoped—that her suggestion held an extra layer of meaning.
“So who is this guy again?” Max asked in a skeptical voice.
“Noah Shepherd. Dr. Noah Shepherd. You met him that one time at the Apple Tree Inn,” Sophie said matter-of-factly. She checked herself in the hall tree mirror by the door. After a shower, she felt wonderful, but her fine straight hair had a mind of its own. She pulled on a wool beanie, then changed her mind and tried the black beret. No, too affected. She picked up a quilted cloche. That was a little better, casual and functional, very un-Bergdorf’s.
She was taking great pains to make sure this appeared to be the most informal of visits. She wore makeup every day, didn’t she? And the fact that the jeans and sweater were brand-new didn’t mean anything. Half her wardrobe was new, acquired to help her adapt to the climate in Avalon. The fact that she looked good in the formfitting parka—all right. She had her vanity. Every woman did.
“And you, like, have a crush on him?” Max asked.
She whirled around to stare at him. Dear Lord. She wondered if this was just a stab in the dark on Max’s part or if there was some kind of visible glow of attraction so obvious that even a young boy could see it. She felt compelled to play dumb. “Now you’re being silly,” she said. “Not to mention inappropriate. Why on earth would you say something like that?”
“Lipstick,” he said.
“I always wear lipstick.”
“I still don’t want to go see your neighbor. You sure you don’t—”
“I do not,” she said. “Heavens, are all boys your age so suspicious?”
Max shrugged.
“For the record, Noah was very helpful when I first got here in the middle of the last big snowfall. And he has a very interesting animal hospital and I simply think you’d enjoy seeing that.”
“Gosh, just like a field trip,” he said with phony enthusiasm. “I love field trips. It’ll be exactly like school, but on a Saturday.”
Sophie glared at him. “When did you turn into such a cynic?”
“When did you turn into robo-mom?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Robo-mom, with the hot chocolate, the car pool and sloppy joes and movie night.”
“I’m not a robot,” she told him, “because I have feelings.”
“And I’m not a cynic,” he shot back, “because I have feelings, too.”
They glared at each other for a long moment.
“If you hate it at Noah’s, we’ll come right back,” she said, opening the negotiation.
“Too awkward,” he countered. “Once I’m there, I’m trapped like a rat.”
“He’s got a puppy,” she said.
That startled him. “What do you mean?”
“Noah. A puppy. As in, a tiny baby dog that wants to play and lick your face, and make you laugh for absolutely no reason.”
“The guy has a puppy?” Max grabbed his boots, stuffing his feet into them as fast as he could. “Jeez, why didn’t you say so?”
“I didn’t want to have to play the puppy card.” Sophie smiled as she followed him out into the bright winter morning. It was almost like cheating.
As Max loped up the driveway and crossed the road, she found herself wondering where the years had gone. Her son, whom she thought of as a little boy, was growing at a crazy rate. He was big and strong and athletic, and from behind, he looked almost manly.
He slowed down to wait for her at Noah’s driveway. Someone had dug out around a painted wooden sign that read “Shepherd Animal Hospital.”
Sophie wondered if she should have called first. Her gloved hand touched the phone in her pocket. No, if she called, that would seem too deliberate. Too calculated. And even though he’d extended an invitation the previous night, Noah might feel as though he had to treat them like company.
It was better to just casually drop by, she decided. Neighborly. She was learning to be neighborly.
She only hoped she could stand being in the same room with Noah and refrain from jumping his bones.
As she and Max approached the house, Sophie studied the way it crowned the brow of the hill, its largest windows oriented directly at the view of the lake. At one time, she guessed long ago, this had been the only house in the vicinity. Other than going to college and then vet school at Cornell, this was the only place Noah had ever lived. She wondered if he would always live here. If he would die here. She wondered if that gave him a feeling of satisfaction, of belonging and continuity…or if it felt impossibly stultifying and made him want to gnaw off a limb to escape.
“Hello,” she called out when they reached the front porch. “Anybody home?”
This was no big deal, she reminded herself as she knocked at the door. He was a neighbor. She knocked again, and was immediately inundated with misgivings. She should have called first. It was bad form to just show up and—
“Just a second,” she heard him call.
There was some barking from Rudy and high-pitched yaps from Opal.
“Dogs,” said Max, his facing lighting up. “Those must be his dogs.”
“Did you think I was making it up? Like I told you, he’s a vet. Of course he has dogs.”
Noah was half-naked when he answered the door. He wore running shorts and shoes, a white towel around his neck. He was glistening with sweat and grinning at her. “Hey,” he said, holding the door wide open to let her in.
“I should have called first,” she said. “This is a bad time.”
“This is a great time,” he said, wiping his hand on the towel and holding it out. “You must be Max. I’m Noah.”
Max shook hands with Noah, but all his attention was on the dogs behind the baby gate in the hallway. “Do you mind if I pet your dogs? I really like dogs, but we can’t have one where we live.”
Sophie hadn’t realized that, but it made sense. The grounds and buildings of the Inn at Willow Lake were pristine, probably not the easiest place to keep a dog. Interesting, she thought. A chink in Greg’s superdad armor.
“Sure you can pet them,” said Noah. “They live for affection.” He disengaged the baby gate. “This is Rudy, and the little one’s Opal.”
Max melted to the floor, trying to hug both dogs at once. They swirled around him, vying for his attention until he laughed aloud. It was, Sophie realized, the first spontaneous laughter she’d had from Max all weekend. Dogs could bring smiles from a stone—or from a boy who was determined to give his mother a hard time.
“I was downstairs, working out,” Noah said. “I just need to turn the music off,” he added. “Want to come check it out? You can bring Opal.”
It was obvious Max was not going to let go of the little caramel-colored fluff ball. He and Sophie followed Noah down a flight of stairs to the basement.
“My gym,” Noah said, picking up the remote control and turning down the volume. Sophie wasn’t sorry to hear the end of that. It was music she’d never heard before and didn’t care for, more noise than notes.
“T-Pain,” Max said. “I like those guys.”
“Word,” said Noah.
The basement was outfitted like a professional gym—a treadmill, stair step machine, weights and pulleys, some sort of wall apparatus straight out of the Inquisition. The place was equipped with speakers, a fridge and a sink. There was a shelf crammed with water bottles, mugs and glasses, and a number of trophies shoved haphazardly away.
Max noticed them right away. “What are the trophies for?”
Noah was busy shutting down the equipment. “Some races,” he said. “Mostly triathlons.”
Heavens, thought Sophie. No wonder he was such a hunk.
“My mom swims. She was in a big swimming race last year, weren’t you, Mom?” commented Max. He turned to Noah. “She swam the Zuider Zee. That’s in Holland. Fifty kilometers, right, Mom?”
Sophie was surprised. “I didn’t think you’d remember that, Max.”
“Hello? When your mom swims across a sea, even a really little one, you kind of remember it.” He turned back to Noah. “She finished in the top ten percent and probably would have done even better if it hadn’t been for those East German women with hair on their chests.”
Noah grinned. “I hate when that happens.”
Max stood on tiptoe to check out one of the trophies. “This one’s for an Ironman triathlon. What’s that mean?”
“A two-mile swim, hundred-mile bike ride and a full twenty-six-mile marathon.”
“You got first,” Max said. “That’s awesome.”
“I’m training for a winter event now,” Noah said. “It takes place during Winter Carnival. Speedskating, snowshoeing and cross-country skiing.” He finished shutting down the equipment, pulled on a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, then led the way upstairs. Sophie was bemused by the way Noah and Max hit it off, buddies already. There was a peculiar eagerness in Noah as he showed Max around his place. Nothing like a little hero worship to perk a guy up.
Max was already intrigued by the overtly guylike features of the place—the foosball table in the middle of the living room. A full-size jukebox rescued from a local bar that went out of business. The giant TV and all its video games and accessories. A young boy’s paradise.
“Is that the Wii?” Max asked.
“The latest model.”
“What games do you have?”
“Super Smash Bros., Rayman. I also have a PlayStation with Guitar Hero III….” Noah rattled them off, more foreign to Sophie’s ears than an African dialect. “Tell you what. You can put something on while I run upstairs for a quick shower.”
“That’s okay. I’d rather play with the dogs.”
“Fine by me.” Noah turned to Sophie. “Be right back.”
As Max sank to the floor to play tug-of-war with Opal, Sophie refrained from saying I told you so. Max wouldn’t have cared, anyway. He was lost in laughter at the frisky pup.
She thought about the Ironman trophies. She thought about Noah’s bare, glistening chest and powerful shoulders. She was attracted to the man, but her instinct was to conceal that from Max. It was nothing, she told herself. A temporary madness.
Could there be anything more awkward than dating in the presence of your children? How had Greg handled that? And had the kids been okay with him dating? Would they be okay with her doing so, even this soon after her arrival in Avalon?
Max let the puppy tackle him and lick his face. And Sophie couldn’t help smiling at them both.
“She’s an orphan,” she told Max. “The puppy, I mean.”
“Really?”
“Well, sort of. According to Noah, she comes from a very big litter. The mother couldn’t take care of her, so Noah had to bottle-feed her.”
“The mother rejected her?” Max held Opal up, brought his face to hers. “Poor thing.”
“She needs a home,” Noah said, coming down the stairs, his damp hair curling over his brow. He looked as sexy as ever in jeans and a haphazardly tucked-in plaid shirt, his feet bare.
Don’t look at him, she warned herself. When she looked at him, she went brain-dead.
“Maybe you’d like to keep her,” he said to Max, sitting down to put on clean socks and boots.
Max leaped to his feet, hugging the pup close. “Really?”
“If it’s all right with your mom,” Noah added.
“Oh, this is emotional blackmail,” Sophie objected. “If I say no, that makes me the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“Then don’t say no,” Noah advised her. “You mentioned before that it would be nice to get Max a dog. You said that first morning that you ought to get a dog. I’m doing this as a favor.”
“I was speaking theoretically, not—”
“You said that, Mom?” Max was now regarding her with worshipful eyes.
“Yes, but maybe not so soon. I don’t even have a place of my own. It’s completely unacceptable to bring an animal into a house where I’m a guest.”
“I talked to Bertie last night to make sure she didn’t mind about the dog,” Noah said. “She’s totally on board with it.”
“You did not,” Sophie objected. “You said you didn’t know her.”
“I said I hadn’t seen her in a long time. Do you have your phone with you?” Noah asked.
Without thinking, she took it out of her pocket and handed it to him. He flipped it open and scrolled through her contacts, then hit Send and handed back the phone. “You can ask her yourself right now.”
Sophie closed the phone before connecting. “I still can’t do this. I don’t have time. I have to watch my grandson three afternoons a week.”
“The puppy can stay here while you’re away,” Noah said simply. “And when Max isn’t in school, he’ll take care of her.”
“Mom, please.” Max tucked the puppy against his chest. “She needs me now.”
“Tell you what,” Noah said, shrugging into a parka, “I’ll show you around. The puppy can come.”
Max and the dogs headed out the back door. Sophie started to follow, but Noah held her back, grabbing her hand and reeling her in to plant a kiss on her surprised mouth. It lasted all of two seconds, yet in that span of time, she relived all the ways he had touched her and the unexpected things he made her feel, and how, when she was with him, she never felt lonely.
She pulled away from him. “Stop that.”
“Your boy doesn’t know about us?”
“There is no us. There’s nothing to know.”
“Then what the hell are we doing, Sophie?”
“I don’t believe you. Acting as though your feelings are hurt.”
“Maybe they are,” he said.
She tugged on her gloves as she walked out the back door. “You are in such trouble.”
He followed her outside, his boots crunching on the snow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not now.” She marched ahead.
“He seems like a good kid,” Noah said. “I’m going to show him around some more. Want to come?”
Like the pied piper, Noah led Max to the clinic. The puppy came paddling through the drifts behind. Sophie heaved a sigh, feeling confused and hopeful and out of sorts. Noah had overstepped a boundary, but the bottom line was, he had just given Max a reason to spend as much time as possible with her. She went to join them. After a brief tour of the facilities, which Max clearly found interesting, they went up to the barn. They checked out a room full of veterinary equipment and a stall for patients, currently vacant.
“Ever ride a horse?” Noah asked Max.
“Nope. Never had the chance.”
“I’ll show you how one of these days. There’s a girl who comes a few times a week to work around here and exercise them. Chelsea Nash. Do you know her?”
Max looked uncomfortable. “Saw her on the school bus.”
“Maybe she could teach you, too. And then there’s your mom.”
“My mom doesn’t ride.”
“I used to,” Sophie said quickly. “I used to be sort of good at it. I had a horse of my own.”
“No way.” Max watched her stroking one of the horses.
“I got Misty when I was about your age. I rode her every day.”
“You never told me you had a horse when you were a kid,” Max said.
“I never told you I had the mumps when I was little, either.”
“Yeah, but a horse. That’s major.”
“Mumps are major.”
“So what happened to the horse?”
“She died and I was completely devastated.”
Max scooped up Opal and hugged her against his chest. “Don’t think that’s going to talk me out of this puppy.”