Just for the Summer(17)

We strained to look. There was a small dock on the island ahead with a plastic owl perched on the end. “That’s it. Very easy to find. And you can see the house from here. See? Very easy.”

I was relieved it was such a short trip. I’d looked at a map of Lake Minnetonka and it was huge. I’d been a little worried we’d get lost trying to go back and forth, but you could see one dock from the other.

When we pulled up, which took a lot longer than the short distance implied—Maria was right, the boat did not go fast—Maddy grabbed on to the pole and pulled us in as Maria showed me how to kill the motor. She showed us how to tether the boat and turn off the battery, and then we grabbed our bags.

We started walking toward the property, the wheels of our luggage thunking on the planks of the dock. There was a tiny sand beach, just big enough for the firepit and four beach chairs. At the top of a zigzagging flight of wooden steps I could see a small white cottage nestled in the trees. We had neighbors on both sides, but they were far enough for privacy.

We lugged our bags up the stairs and were sweating by the time we made it to the door. We came in through a screened-in porch that overlooked the lake. Maddy and I shared a glance. It was adorable. White wicker rocking chairs and a small matching loveseat with thick floral cushions. A cute coffee table and plastic ferns in wrought-iron planters and hanging baskets.

“This is it,” Maria said, unlocking the front door. “No candles allowed, but you can use the fireplace. It doesn’t have a heater.” She pushed open the door and we followed her into a gorgeous, bright, cozy living room. Maddy and I looked around smiling. “Oh wow. It’s even better than the pictures,” I said.

Maria looked pleased.

The house was vintage rustic. Colorful area rugs covered the weathered hardwood floors. In front of a stone fireplace, there was a chunky white couch with a heavy knitted throw blanket draped over the side and plaid throw pillows at each end. There were mismatched armchairs that looked lived in, a hope chest turned coffee table, and a chandelier made of driftwood over the four-person table in the kitchen. The kitchen had a large white farm sink, white cabinets with glass panes with mason jar cups and handmade bowls and plates behind them. No dishwasher, but we’d live.

Maria sighed at the house and shook her head. “Every year I come, I clean and dust. He never comes. Finally I said, ‘Why don’t you make someone happy with this place? You rent it.’ I’m glad he listened.”

“Me too,” Maddy said.

“A place like this should have laughter in it,” Maria said, taking us to the bedrooms. “Memories.”

The bedrooms were off the living room on either side of a short hallway with a single bathroom shared in the middle. The bathroom had a white claw-foot tub, pale blue tile, and an old pedestal sink. I took the room with the cushioned reading nook in the window and Maddy picked the one with the hanging swing chair in the corner.

“Where’s the washer and dryer?” Maddy asked, looking around after the tour was over.

“No washer,” Maria said. “If you bring it to me, I’ll wash your clothes for you. It’s an extra charge or you can go to the laundromat, but it’s not close. Also you have to bring out all your trash. There’s no trash service. You can throw it in the bins in the garage when you get back to the house.”

We both nodded.

“Use the house address for mail,” she said, going on. “I’ll leave it for you in the garage. Any problems you call me.”

Maria gave us the cottage key and her number. Then we drove her back to the mansion to drop her off. Maria had made it look easy, but I was glad the boat was old and junky, because it was actually pretty hard to maneuver and I had a feeling we’d be bumping into the dock more than we liked.

We decided to go into town and get groceries since we were already docked.

“It’s great, right?” I asked Maddy as I pulled out of the mansion’s garage.

“Yes, it’s great.”

“Did you see the cute wall art? All the Minnesota lake-life stuff?”

“Yes.” She let her flip-flop fall off and put her bare foot on the seat to put her chin to her knee. “It’s like we just went back in time to 1950.”

I smiled.

“Who do you think owns that house?” I asked.

“Mister.”

I laughed. “Kind of sad he stopped using it,” I said, pulling out of the neighborhood.

“Sounds like it had too many painful memories.”

“Yeah. We’ll appreciate it though.”

We drove about a mile away from the lake to a more commercial side of town that Google Maps said had a grocery store. That’s when I saw it.

“Oh my God,” I said. “I have to pull over.”

Maddy looked out the window. “What?”

“Something for Justin.”

I turned into the mini mall and parked.

Maddy looked around. “What do you need to get for Justin here?”

“Hold on.”

I texted him.

Me: Tell me how many fingers to hold up.

A second later:

Justin: Hey, did you make it to Hawaii? How was your flight? Did you get in okay?

I gave my phone a twisted smile.

Me: I did. How many fingers? I have a surprise for you.