Welcome to Bluestone 1 - Bluestone homecoming (4 page)

On the other side of Lily, Quinn folded his
arms and stared straight ahead, at the council gathered on the
stage. Right. Leo remembered he
had
been here before, for a
play in middle school. He’d had a crush on a little blonde girl
whose name he could no longer remember, and sat through a bad
version of
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
.

“So. Boyfriend?” Leo asked low, dipping his
head to Lily’s ear.

Her laughter rang out, earning a scowl from
Quinn. Did the man do nothing but scowl? Maybe Leo was just
bringing out the best in someone again. Maybe Quinn and Max would
get along just fine.

“No. Just a friend.” But something in the
brightness of her eyes made him doubt her words. Quinn certainly
had other ideas.

The meeting was called to order, and after a
reading of last meeting’s minutes, the council dove into a
discussion of how to save Bluestone.

An advertising campaign was suggested, but
all of the slogans were trite and tired, nothing uniquely
Bluestone. Leo immediately wished for a notebook, but hadn’t
thought to bring one. He glanced at Lily. No purse, so no notebook.
He looked around, and saw Trinity Madison sitting two rows behind
him. People were still calling out slogan ideas, so he leaned back
and waved to draw her attention.

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

She frowned and pointed to her ear,
indicating she couldn’t hear. He twisted further in his seat and
mimed writing on his hand, then repeated his question. She nodded,
and bent to retrieve her purse from the floor. She dug through it,
finally drawing out a small flowered notebook and a gel pen. She
passed them forward. He looked from the very pink utensils back to
her, and she shrugged with a half-smile. He had to stop himself
from grinning as he twisted forward and started scribbling.

Bluestone…family…tranquility…fishing…comfort…

All the words he could think of when he
thought of Bluestone—well, when he thought good things about
Bluestone. He grabbed a few words that were flying through the air
around him.

Tradition…trophy…

“Bluestone, a Minnesota trophy,” he
muttered.

“What?” Lily asked, but he waved her
away.

Stone…jewel…treasure. He shook his head. He
was going the same direction—too trite, too generic.

The gavel sounded again, and the room
quieted.

“Is someone writing all these down?” the
mayor asked.

“I’ve got it,” someone else said.

“You should have a contest,” Leo heard
himself say. “In the paper. Best slogan will win, I don’t know,
something local.”

“Dinner for two at Quinn’s,” Lily
offered.

“Hey!” Quinn protested, but she only patted
his leg, which seemed to appease him.

“We could open it up,” a voice chimed in
behind him, and he turned to see Trinity had spoken. She flashed a
smile in his direction before continuing. “We could put it in the
Lake Life Magazine, make a big deal out of the winner, put pictures
of the winners enjoying their dinner at Quinn’s, and maybe a few
other activities around Bluestone. Jill can do the photo layout. I
think that’s a great idea.”

A smattering of applause came from the room,
followed by murmurs as people tried out their slogans on each
other.

Leo caught his mother’s proud smile before
they were called to order again.

“That’s still just part of the problem,” the
mayor said. “We need to come up with something to bring people here
on a regular basis. It’s been suggested that we have more artisans
open shops in the area so we have a draw for the wives of the
sportsmen who come here for the fishing, but before we do that, we
have to give them some kind of assurance that they can make a
living here. So we need to put ourselves back on the map. I have a
few ideas here.”

“Is there something historical about
Bluestone?” Leo asked. “Something we could play up? I lived in
Excelsior, which was one of the first tourist towns in Minnesota.
Right now it’s doing well, though I understand it’s closer to the
cities.”

“As far as I know, the most interesting thing
about our history is logging and the Ojibwe natives,” one of the
men on the dais said. “But I like that angle. Maybe someone could
look into that.”

“It would be a good school project,” Trinity
said. “I’ll bring it up tomorrow.”

“What about a concert series?” Lily asked.
“The country singer Maddox Bradley is from around here, isn’t he?
We could get him to kick it off, maybe on Memorial Day, and then we
could find some other bands from around the state, and have a music
festival every month or something. It would bring in the young
people, too, maybe some people who never thought about fishing, or
coming to a lake town.”

One of the councilwomen frowned and leaned
toward the microphone. “I’m not sure we want that kind of
reputation. It might chase off the people who do love fishing, if
they think we draw the wrong kind of people here. And concerts are
messy business. A lot of physical preparation and detail work.”

“Which means we’d have jobs,” Lily
countered.

“Temporary ones.”

“Set-up, tear-down, advertising, those are
all jobs.”

The mayor held up a hand. “We’ll take it
under consideration. Are there any other ideas?”

There were, a suggestion for an arts fair,
and a food fair, but none were as long-term as the concert idea,
and the meeting dragged on as the different ideas were debated.
Finally the mayor banged the gavel again and adjourned the meeting.
People were still muttering as they stood and folded their chairs.
Someone tapped Leo’s shoulder and he turned to look into Trinity’s
wide blue eyes.

“My pen?” She held a hand out.

He capped it and tipped it toward her. She
caught his hand and turned it up so he could see the pink glitter
smeared on the edge of his hand.

“Cute.” Then, as if she realized she really
didn’t know him, she let his hand drop.

He rubbed the edge of his hand on the hip of
his jeans to wipe away the glitter. “Can I hold onto the notebook
for another day?”

She flicked her gaze to the frilly thing.
“Take some good notes?”

“Some things I don’t want to forget.”

“That was a good idea you had. There’s
probably going to be a lot of entries. They’re going to need
someone to organize them.”

A sense of foreboding filled him, sensing
there was a trap here somewhere. “They’ll probably get an intern to
do that.”

She laughed. “Have you seen our paper? They
don’t have interns. They have six people on staff.”

He laughed. “Six? How can they run a paper
with only six people?”

“It’s a weekly, doesn’t make much money, so
they can’t afford a lot of employees. You should give them a hand
while you’re here.”

Before he could say anything, his mother
pressed through the crowd and took his arm. “Hello, Trinity.”

“Hi, Mrs. Erickson.”

“I’m ready to go.” His mother fanned her
face. “It’s very warm in here with all these people.”

He nodded, grateful to be saved from
expectations he didn’t think he’d volunteered for. Besides, he
wanted to get home before Max went to bed.

But it was too late. Max was already asleep
when Leo and his mother returned. Leo listened with half an ear as
his father described their evening together, but had a hard time
concentrating, resenting too much that he hadn’t tucked his child
in tonight. Another failure.

Leo wasn’t accustomed to being idle. Tension
stiffened his shoulders, his legs, and he recognized the need for
exercise. Bluestone didn’t have a gym—maybe that was something they
could work on—and it was too cold to swim. Ice-out had just been a
couple of weeks ago. He could run, maybe, if he could find a spot.
He’d check it out when he went to town. Surely some place in town
carried balls and mitts. He was going to bring his son home today
and they’d play catch in the back yard, just like he and his dad
used to do.

Yeah, and look how close they were now.

But it would be a start.

He walked into the heart of town—only about
three blocks from his parents’ house. He figured he could have
lunch at Quinn’s—still hadn’t gotten the story on that guy and his
relationship to Lily, and he wanted to check him out—hang out in
town for a bit, and walk to pick up Max. Max might not be crazy
about walking home, but it was a nice day, and they had to take
those while they could get them.

Finding a ball and mitt was harder than he
thought. After hitting two stores, he thought he’d have to drive
over to Wilson to the Target there. Instead, he decided to stop at
Quinn’s place for lunch.

The tavern was a big log building with a
gravel parking lot a stone’s throw from the lake. Great location,
if the town was doing well. It was a place tourists would come,
with the mounted fish and other game on the walls. Only about a
dozen people were there for lunch. Leo checked his watch. Almost
one.

The man himself was behind the bar, but he
came out when Leo sat at a table near the window, apparently as
curious as Leo.

“Must have missed the lunch rush,” Leo
commented.

Quinn scoffed. “This is the lunch rush. What
can I get you?”

Quinn handed a menu to Leo and stood with his
hands folded in front of him. Leo looked from the one page
laminated menu to Quinn.

"Don't I get a waitress?" He inclined his
head toward the dark-haired girl across the room, laughing with a
group of men.

"You get me."

Huh. A bit of hostility there. Leo didn't
have to work hard to figure it out. Quinn didn't know the nature of
his relationship with Lily.

"I'll take a club sandwich, chips on the
side, and iced tea."

Quinn took the menu back, but didn't move
away.

"Did I miss a step?"

"No." Quinn pivoted and stalked off.

Poor Lily, if this guy was in love with
her.

As Leo ate the sandwich—which was really
good, though the limited menu didn't offer a lot of incentive for a
free meal for two—he was torn between watching the scenery out the
window and watching the interactions in the restaurant.

Mostly men, and the pretty little waitress
seemed to be a draw. Again and again, though, she returned to one
customer, a man of about forty with dark hair graying at the
temples, who had a warm smile, and followed her affectionately with
his gaze as she moved about the room.

Leo’s attention traveled to a small group of
men, apparently construction workers, and back to Quinn, who was
stocking the bar, watching him. Yeesh, maybe he was the reason
business was down if he glowered at every newcomer.

Leo finished his sandwich, wiped his hands
and his mouth on the stingy single napkin, and crossed the room,
drawing out his wallet to pay.

"Know where I can get a ball and glove for my
son? I've already been to Boysen’s and The Bluestone Stop.”

Quinn rocked back on his heels and looked
down his long nose at Leo—a trick since Leo was slightly taller.
"How old's your kid?"

What that had to do with where he could find
what he was looking for, Leo had no idea. But he'd made the effort
to be friendly. Maybe Quinn was reciprocating. Hard to tell.
"Nine."

Quinn nodded once. "There's a place down
Highway 23 a bit, maybe fifteen miles. Should have what you're
looking for."

Leo glanced at his watch. He had just enough
time to get there and back in time to pick up Max if he hustled.
"Thanks."

Quinn relaxed his shoulders. "Any time."

Leo got the feeling he meant it as he headed
out the door and strode home.

***

Of course he was late picking up Max, and
Trinity was standing outside with her hand on his shoulder. No
other kids, parents or teachers were around. He looked at the
dashboard clock. Ten minutes late. Not too bad—unless you were nine
years old. As Leo parked, he tried to see if Max had been crying
but couldn’t tell from here. He glanced at the ball and glove on
the passenger seat and decided to leave them there for now. He
hopped out of the SUV with a grin on his face that Max could
probably see through.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. Wanted to miss the
traffic.”

The stern expression on Trinity’s face told
him she didn’t believe him. “I’d like to schedule a conference with
you and Max’s teacher Mrs. Boller for tomorrow at eleven. Is that
convenient for you?”

He stopped a frown from creasing his brow.
After their conversation last night, he’d expected her to be a bit
friendlier. Not that he was looking for anything like that, but
this attitude was a complete about-face from last night. He hated
how slimy she could make him feel, how worthless.

He put his hand on Max’s shoulder and wished
he felt more confident that his son would accept the gesture. “I
look forward to it.”

“Don’t be late, now. The teachers only have a
short break.”

He bristled. He was never late—today being
the exception—but of course she didn’t know that. He nodded briskly
and steered a silent Max toward the SUV.

“I got you a surprise,” he said once Trinity
had gone inside. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want her to
hear—she’d probably think he was trying to bribe his son’s
affection. When was he going to stop feeling judged for the choices
he made?

Max didn’t respond with any enthusiasm.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?”

Max lifted a shoulder as Leo opened the back
door and helped him into the booster.

“Kid, you suffer from a lack of curiosity.
Not like your mom. When I told her I had a surprise—” He stopped
himself when Max’s eyes widened. Leo rubbed his own chest,
surprised by the lack of pain at mentioning her. The words had just
rolled off his tongue. He tried to remember the last time he’d
spoken of her, the last time he’d spoken of her to his son. He’d
avoided doing so because he worried about the pain it would cause,
but maybe—maybe that was the wrong tactic. So he continued. “She
would dance around and pester me until I couldn’t take it anymore
and I would give her the surprise. Made me want to give her
surprises all the time.” He smiled at the memory, double-checked
Max’s buckle, and looked up into the kid’s face.