“I don’t live alone. I have a dog now. A big, terrifying dog.” Zeus rolled over onto his back and farted. “Zeus, go to your bed,” I said. He did, but not before giving me the Saddest Dog in the World face.
“He’ll respect your privacy,” Dad said. “But you need someone. Remember that guy who disappeared around here? Matt what’s-his-name?”
“Matthew Dudek. That was ten years ago, Dad, and it has nothing to do with me. And, Ben, do you have anything to say for yourself? Were you evicted or something? Bedbugs? A tree fell on your house?”
“No,” he said. “Your father asked me to do him a favor.”
“Besides,” Dad said, “it’s just for the winter.”
“The wint— What? No! I’m sorry. No, thank you.”
“Squashy,” Dad said, leaning forward. “You jumped the rails, honey. You need to have someone around. I’d do it myself, but you said you didn’t want me. And I’m busy these days.”
“Busy doing what?” I asked.
“None of your business.”
“Okay, well, that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t need a keeper.”
“Think about it, Squashy. The snow, the ice. Ben has a plow.”
“So do you, Pop. You can plow my driveway when it snows. You always have.”
“My plow broke.”
“Fix it.” I glanced at Ben, who was calmly eating.
“What if you take a header down those stairs and break your leg?” Dad said, gesturing toward the pond. “What if your dog does? You gonna lug that moose up from the dock? I helped you build those stairs, don’t forget.”
“Okay,” I admitted, “I have thought about falling down the stairs, and I have a plan for that. Ropes and a come-along.”
“What if you lose power?”
“I have a generator and I’m a very capable woman, as you know, Father, since you raised me.”
“What if you get sick and can’t get to the doctor’s and the Wi-Fi doesn’t work? What if a serial killer comes along? No one will hear you out here, will they?”
“What if it’s a grizzly bear?” I said. “Or a pack of wolves? Or a zombie. Because those are more likely to appear on my doorstep than a serial killer in Wellfleet, Dad. Come on.”
“That’s what everyone says until it happens,” Dad said. “？‘Couldn’t happen in my little town.’ Hey. You’re the one who got me hooked on true crime podcasts.”
Dang it. He was right.
“You come in at all hours from that hospital, Squashy. And now there’s no one here to look after you.” Zeus barked from upstairs. “Except the dog,” Dad added.
“I’d leave you alone, Lillie,” Ben said. “Your dad says the studio is completely self-sufficient. He just wants you to have someone close by to put his mind at ease. It gets dark early out here.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it.
I had five neighbors within a ten-minute walk. All of them lived elsewhere in the winter. Four of the five had already left, and the Burtons would head out the week before Thanksgiving and go home to Colorado.
This would be the first winter of my life that I’d be alone. There would be nights that I’d come home at 3:00 a.m. Times when it might be nice to have someone feed Zeus for me without asking my dad to drive over and do it.
And Dad was right. I could scream at top volume, and no one would hear me.
“Did your plow really break?” I asked Dad.
“The frame snapped on that damn pothole on 6A,” he said.
“Ben? Don’t you have a life? I thought you owned your own house.”
“I do.”
“And you’re just going to abandon it while you sit in my shed like a creeper?”
“No, Lillie. I’m going to rent it out to a nice couple from Florida who don’t want to live there anymore. I’ll be on the Goody Chapman every day. I’ll just sleep here.” He paused. “If you don’t mind. But I think your father has a point.”
I didn’t want him here when Dylan was home. Dylan loved the studio, and so did his friends. “You can stay with my father over Christmas when my son is home,” I said.
“Speaking of that,” Dad said, “I was actually thinking of staying with you when Dylan’s home.”
I set my fork down with a clatter. “Excuse me?”
“What?” Dad said. “I love my grandson. He loves me. I miss him, and I’m old.”