Not Quite Forever (Not Quite #4)(23)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“All right. My son was delinquent in telling me he was bringing a guest.”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Walt said. He moved to Dakota’s side and placed an arm around her waist.

For a woman who wanted her son to settle down, she was mighty chilly.

“Are we going to stand on the porch and talk all day, or can we go inside?” Walt asked.

“Of course.” JoAnne Eddy turned and started to move inside.

Walt hesitated, looked back at the bags sitting by the car.

Dakota grabbed his arm, pulled him close. “Don’t you dare leave me alone with her.”

He snapped tall, and grinned. With his free hand, he offered a mock salute.

“We prepared your old room, Walter.” JoAnne glanced over her shoulder. “I will have to shuffle others to prepare another one for your . . . guest?”

Outside of her own parents’ disapproval of how she earned money, Dakota liked to think she didn’t have an insecure bone in her body . . . but JoAnne Eddy had a way of making her uneasy.

“We’ll take the guesthouse,” Walt told his mother.

“The guesthouse is already promised to your sister.”

“The boathouse then.”

JoAnne turned, glared. “That’s hardly fitting, Walter.”

“My apartment is smaller, Mom. We’ll be fine.”

The entire exchange was cold and intimidating, and Dakota wasn’t happy with her reaction to it. Digging deep, she forced a smile to her lips and a slight accent to her voice. “Your home is lovely, Mrs. Eddy. Positively stunning.” The open-beam ceiling and mountain cabin charm, albeit huge and nothing like a cozy cabin that Dakota would prefer . . . it was beautiful. Everything from hall tables to chandeliers were oversized, heavily ornate with ironwork and western charm.

Yet it wasn’t country in any way. The mix of sophistication and culture spoke of money.

Lots of money.

Dakota hesitated at a painting in the hall. Early nineteenth century Impressionist. The piece barely fit the décor . . . yet it worked. She leaned toward Walt. “That must be one hell of a clamp.”

Walt laughed and squeezed her arm.

“Thank you. It would be nice to see my son in a home instead of that silly apartment he insists on.”

“I don’t have time for a house.” The argument sounded old.

JoAnne guided them into a great room with a massive fireplace filling one entire wall. Windows opened to a view of the lake that made Dakota’s mouth water. She could sit on the outside veranda and write for hours. “Wow.”

“Walter?” JoAnne said to the lone man sitting with glasses perched on his nose, a newspaper in his hands. “Look who’s here.”

Dr. Walter Eddy II had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, a clean-shaven jaw, and a guarded smile. His eyes had the same quality of his son’s that darkened when his gaze landed on the two of them.

“I was wondering if you’d make it.”

Dakota was surprised there wasn’t more affection than a handshake between father and son . . . but that was all that passed between them.

“I told you I would.”

“That doesn’t always mean you’ll be here.”

Walt didn’t respond to his father’s dig, and introduced her. “Dakota, this is my dad. Dad, Dakota.”

“Dr. Eddy. A pleasure.”

Handshakes said a lot about a person. Dr. Eddy’s was born of confidence without an ounce of insecurity.

“Did we know you were coming?” Dr. Eddy glanced at his wife.

“We did not.”

Dakota spoke up. “I hope I’m not an inconvenience.”

Walt and his father both jumped on her concerns.

“Of course not,” Walt said.

“We welcome all our son’s friends.”

Happy with the response she wanted, Dakota stood taller. “I was just telling your wife how lovely your home is.” She moved out of Walt’s reach and toward the windows with the view. “I can see why you chose this spot.”

“Winter can be difficult, but the view is always worth it.”

“I would imagine it is.”

“How long are you planning on staying?” JoAnne asked.

“We’re flying out Monday,” Walt told them.

Walt moved to her side and the room grew quiet.

Dakota gave up. “Where is that boathouse, Walt? We might as well settle.”

The boathouse had been a sanctuary when Walt was young. A place to escape his parents and be a kid.

With one bedroom, a living room, and a full bath, the boathouse was originally set up as living quarters for a groundskeeper. Over the years, a groundskeeper’s house was built away from the water. The winter months made living on the water less desirable. Even with the cast-iron fireplace, the space was freezing when the lake froze over and snow reached several feet.

Walt brought their luggage with them as he walked Dakota down toward the lake.

“I find it interesting that neither you nor your sister want to stay in the house with your parents over the weekend.”

He dropped their bags on the steps, and opened the door for her. “I’m shocked Brenda and Larry are staying here at all. I thought they’d just show up for the party and leave. If I came alone, I’d stay in the house.”

Dakota stopped, turned, and stared at him.

“At night. To sleep anyway.”

She laughed and followed him inside. “Oh!”

“Nice, huh?”

“Cozy . . . I like it.”

“The guesthouse is even better. Has a full kitchen and not just a sink, microwave, and fridge.”

Dakota moved to the window and opened the curtains wide. “It’s so gorgeous. I have a friend in Lake Tahoe that I visit every year. Her place has a view of the lake, but nothing like this.” She cracked the widow and sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “Love the smell of pine.”

“We don’t get a lot of that in California, do we?”

Her smile was contagious. Walt moved beside her and looked out over the lake. “I know it looks inviting, but that water is cold.”

“I’m sure it feels great on a hot summer day.”

“When you’re twelve.” Walt laughed.

“Well, if I get the urge to jump in, you better come with me.”

He grasped her hand and pulled her toward the back door. A deck extended over the water to where the boats were pulled in and out of the water in the winter.

She hesitated when they reached the end of the dock. “You wouldn’t push me in fully clothed, would you?”