A Change Of View (Northern Lights Book 2)

by Freya Barker

  I lift my head and look at him in surprise, but Roar seems unfazed.

  “Figured you might,” he says, matter-of-factly, without even looking in Matt’s direction. “Figure she’s waiting for it, too.”

  Roar

  “I was looking at some comparable properties,” Matt says, more animated now than he was earlier. “I mean, I know what I can afford based on what I have saved up, and what I used to have coming in, but I’ll have to see if the bank would give me a mortgage based on what I used to make or what I’m hoping to in the future. Maybe I should wait until I’ve had a chance to build up my business.”

  I bite off a smile at Matt’s excited ramble and throw Leelo a wink.

  “Talk to her,” I calmly tell him. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Financing might not be the best option at this point, but there are others.”

  What I don’t tell him is that I already talked to Charlie; she may be old, but she’s also sharp as a tack. She already researched a rent-to-buy contract that would require a nominal amount as down payment, but after that, only monthly rent payments to cover the cost of maintenance, plus a set amount to go toward the principal amount owing.

  I think Charlie likes the idea of keeping the cottage in the family, so to speak.

  But I don’t tell Matt any of this; I can sense how important it is for him to forge his own path.

  “Okay,” the kid says with a small grin on his lips. “I’ll give her a call.”

  “Better yet,” Leelo pipes up. “Why not finish up what we need to here, you drop Roar and me off at the lodge, and go see her. Take her for dinner at the Embassy on Broadway, she loves their pierogies.”

  There’s another reason I can’t resist this woman. She sees, she listens, and she remembers all the big and little things that are important. Not for herself, but for the people she cares about.

  I look down on her two-tone coloured hair and wonder what I’ve done to deserve her. I don’t even notice Matt getting up until he speaks.

  “Let’s go then,” he says, already walking down the dock.

  I reach over to grab Leelo’s pink sneakers before she can, and pull her feet from the water, one by one, drying them on my shirt before I tie her shoes for her. Then I quickly slip on my socks and boots, and get up, holding out my hand to help her up.

  “Last time someone tied my shoes, I was in grade four and my dad was in a rush to get me off to school,” she says, a melancholy smile on her face.

  I tilt up her chin with my forefinger and brush my lips over hers. Once, and then again a little longer. Her response is immediate as she wraps her hands around the back of my neck and holds me in place. An image of me taking Leelo right here, on the dock, is clear in my head, but it’s quickly thwarted when Matt calls out.

  “Come on, you guys! Enough time for that later!”

  -

  I clink my glass to Leelo’s.

  To her delight, the bottle of scotch she saves for special occasions survived the baseball bat. It had rolled under the lower shelf of the steel kitchen counter, and she kept it cradled in her arms all the way to the lodge.

  “To a scotch kinda day,” I say, earning me a warm smile.

  “You’ve got that right.”

  She lifts the glass to her lips and takes a cautious sip, while rocking gently in one of the rustic rocking chairs on my porch. We came out here to see the sun go down on yet another tumultuous day.

  When Matt dropped us off earlier, I noticed a couple of outdoor fires in front of some of the cabins.

  Usually, when the fire hazard warning is high, I choose to restrict open fires on my property. I’ve seen it too many times; people think they’re safe as long as they’re close to the shore, but the truth is, the wind can be unpredictable coming off the lake. Most people don’t realize that a single gust can carry an ember up to a kilometre, if not further, into any direction.

  After telling Leelo to go ahead, I check in with the guests at the two adjoining cabins. Neither was aware the warning had been raised to high and immediately shovelled dirt on their respective fires without argument.

  By the time I got back to the lodge, she was already going to town in the kitchen. A frittata, she said she was making, which was fine by me. If it has eggs and cheese or meat—or better yet, both—it’s good enough for me. I walked up to where she was chopping vegetables next to the sink and kiss her neck—something that seems to get me an instant response every time—before leaving her to check mail and messages in my office.

  Now, with the motel windows replaced, my emails caught up on, my stomach full and my feet up on the railing, this day can be marked off as productive.

  I reach out my hand and Leelo places her palm against mine, entwining our fingers, as we quietly watch the moon come out over the water.

  “I was thinking,” I start, breaking the silence, as I gently stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. “Tomorrow we start on the roof, but given that half of this summer is already gone, maybe instead of rushing to put things back the way they were, you should put some thought into what you want to end up with.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well...” I shift a little in my seat so I can look at her. “What if you spent the rest of this summer making the Whitefish into exactly what you hoped it might become someday? Let me finish,” I warn her, when she opens her mouth to protest. “Think about it; you could provide ongoing work for Matt for the foreseeable future, and along with realizing your own dream, help him realize his.”

  Her eyes soften a little as she lets that sink in.

  “That would be wonderful, except for the fact that the insurance company doesn’t pay for improvements, just for repairs. Besides, my bank account is so depleted, I don’t know if I’ll make it to next month, let alone next summer.” She leans over and places a hand along my jaw. “I love that you want that for me, and for Matt, but I just don’t—”

  “What if there’s a way to make the finances work too?” I offer carefully, sensing her resistance right away. “A way that would have everyone come out ahead?”

  “Like what?”

  “The lodge is booked solid for the remainder of the summer. Next year is quickly filling up. Every day I get new inquiries, and every day we turn people away who take a chance and drive up.” I watch as Leelo gets up and starts pacing—she’s listening. “I’ve thought about adding a few more cabins, but I’m hesitant,” I continue, knowing I have her attention. “One of the main attractions here is that the waterfront is not crowded. You on the other hand, have a decent chunk of waterfront, with only the one single dock in a prime spot with just Crown land on the other shore. We could partner up.” This idea has been percolating all weekend, but today it all seemed to gel.

  “Are you suggesting we join forces?” She stops right in front of me, her hands on her hips, and her head cocked to one side. “We’ve know each other all of what? A few months? And you’re expecting me to believe that you want to go into some kind of business deal with me as equals?” You’d think she’s Italian with the way she gestures as she talks. “I want independence, Roar. I want to stand on my own two feet.”

  “I’m not suggesting anything else,” I assure her. It’s not like I didn’t know this might be a hard sell. “I have no interest in taking your independence. What I’m suggesting is—”

  “What he’s saying is that he’ll invest the money, you provide the land. Let me guess,” Matt says to me, walking up the steps. Neither of us heard him coming, but it’s clear he’s heard enough. “You foot the bill for any upgrades on the motel, then you want to expand with three or four cabins on Mom’s waterfront, and the two of you share in the proceeds of those. Oh, and of course, you’ll hire me to do all the work.”

  I can’t help grin at the smug smile on Matt’s face. Smart kid.

  “And we’ll have a proper contract hammered out by your lawyer if that makes you feel any better,” I direct at Leelo, who is looking at her son, slightly puzzle
d.

  “Did you know about this?” she asks him pointedly, and Matt vehemently shakes his head.

  “I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. Although, I admit that was mostly in terms of me investing money, but now it looks like I won’t have a dime left.”

  It takes Leelo a minute to catch on, and then she squeals.

  “You got it?”

  “Rent-to-own. She had an agreement drawn up and everything, wanted me to take it to a lawyer to look over, but she cautioned me to stay away from that local firm. Suggested I find one in Sault Ste. Marie, like she did.” He turns to me with a shit-eating grin, cracking his face wide open. “And can I just say, your mom is a shark.” I chuckle at the description. Charlie would get a kick out of that. “She gave Dad a run for his money.”

  “Wait,” Leelo interrupts, swinging him around by the shoulder to face her. “Your father?”

  “Was there eating dinner,” he explains, clearly struggling for patience. “He must have seen us come in, because we barely sat down and he was standing at the table. He started giving me a hard time when Charlotte, cool as a cucumber, stood up, offered her hand like they were meeting at a tea party, and proceeded to tell him she’d expected a much more substantial man, given that his son is such a strapping boy. Should’ve seen his face.” Matt snorts. “Looked like he was going to blow a fuse. He started to; slammed his fist on the table. Your OPP buddy, Bill? He was there too. Heard the whole thing. He came right up to the table, grabbed Dad by the scruff of his neck, and marched him out of the restaurant.”

  “No shit.” This from Leelo, who’s listening with her mouth hanging open.

  “Shit,” Matt shoots back, his eyes dancing. “Bill came back, said he gave him directions back home and told him not to stop until he was safely back there.”

  “I need another drink,” Leelo says, dropping back down in the chair beside me and holding out her glass. “This is all gonna take some time to process.”

  When Matt gets back from grabbing a glass for himself, I pour all of us a shot. We raise our glasses.

  “To your first house,” I toast Matt.

  “To your expansion plans,” he in turn toasts his mother and me.

  “To your shitbag of a father being run out of town by a five foot nothing octogenarian,” Leelo puts in her two cents, and before I can comment on that, she tosses the contents back in one swig.

  “You go, Mom,” Matt says laughing and she holds up her empty glass for a refill.

  “Definitely a scotch kinda day.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Her softly whispered words wipe the remaining shadows from my soul.

  Leelo

  “Mom, grab me a bottle of water?”

  I look up to see him peeking over the edge of the roof.

  “Roar want one, too?”

  “Sure.” I hear his voice but I can’t see him. This is the second day the guys have been working on the roof. The materials were dropped off early yesterday morning, and they’ve been at it for two days, while I’ve been wandering around rather aimlessly.

  Two days have gone by.

  Two days and my head is still trying to adapt to some of the new realities.

  I came to the Whitefish Motel determined to give my life new content, and with every step I’ve taken it seems I’ve had roadblocks thrown in my path. I never thought my son would follow me here, and I certainly never expected to find a neighbour who would become such a permanent fixture in my daily existence.

  There is nothing that’s really gone according to plan, so I’m not sure why I’m so reluctant to let go of the vision I came here with. If anything, I’ve proven these last couple of years that I can be in the moment.

  Shit, my ink and my hair colour are evidence of that.

  Yet here I am, agonizing over a proposal that secretly excites me with possibilities, but it requires a leap of faith. Again. I already took a giant one, moving here in the first place. I find myself, once again, on the edge of a cliff with nothing but beauty in front of me, but afraid to let go of the crumbling stability under my feet.

  All I have to do is leap. Grab hold of the new opportunities opening up. God knows I want to, but years of practicing conventional wisdom and the sound of my mother’s voice in my head get in the way. I imagine it spouts every caution and concern that has been grinding through my head, and I’m about sick of myself.

  No one is holding a gun to my head. No one is forcing me into anything. The choice is all mine, and if I don’t go for it; I know I’ll regret it forever.

  I’m the only one holding back.

  I walk back out with a couple of frosty bottles of water and drop them in the bucket underneath the ladder. Matt’s head sticks over the edge at the sound and immediately pulls the bucket up by the rope attached to the top rung of the ladder.

  “I want a proper restaurant, a diner,” I call up, surprising myself. “I want to gut the living room and kitchen of the house, and I want to incorporate that into the dining area. I want the main kitchen opened up, so everyone can see what goes on in there. I want to open from breakfast to two o’clock every day and do boxed lunches for those who want it. I don’t want to do dinner. I’m sick of doing dinner. It gives me a headache trying to think up meals.”

  I keep talking when Roar’s head appears beside Matt’s, both men looking at me strangely, but it doesn’t matter, the cork is out of the bottle and there’s no stopping now. “The top floor of the house can be converted into a one-bedroom apartment with a multi-level walk out deck that also serves as separate entrance. I’d like to see if it’s possible to turn units one, two and three into two housekeeping units with full kitchen facilities like number eight. One less unit, but twice the opportunity for long-term rentals. Also,” I continue, as I tick off the mental list I seem to have accumulated. “That ugly plastic siding has to go. I want that replaced with beams, or something that makes it look rustic, like the lodge.” I watch as Roar slowly comes climbing down the ladder and stops in front of me, putting his hands on my hips, a half-smile on his lips. “And I’d really like this parking lot and driveway paved, I’m sick of gravel.”

  “Matt?” he calls up to where my son is still hanging over the edge of the roof, but his smiling eyes never leave mine. “Can it be done?”

  “Some things easier than others,” my son says with a grin. “I would need a few guys, a licensed plumber and electrician, and we’d have to get proper drawings done up and permits sorted. It would have to be done in a certain order, but I think it can be done.”

  “Good,” Roar says, a full smile cracking his face wide open, as he wraps his arms around my middle and lifts me clear off my feet, shoving his face in my neck. “Are you planning on renting out that apartment?” he mumbles softly, and now it’s my turn to smile.

  “Eventually.”

  -

  The next afternoon the three of us are piled into my Jeep and on our way back from Sault Ste. Marie.

  We sat on Roar’s porch last night and hammered out an agreement. Matt was there to give practical feedback on the construction timeline and an off-the-cuff cost projection, so we’d have an idea of the kind of money needed. I was surprised to find out that Roar didn’t even flinch at the number Matt spouted off.

  As luck would have it, Matt had already made an appointment with a lawyer in Sault Ste. Marie for noon today, as per Charlotte’s suggestion, and he apparently was able to fit us in right after. It was my choice not to go with Henry Kline, mainly because he’s really more Uncle Sam’s lawyer than mine, and I still didn’t feel quite right that his firm represents Kyle Thompson.

  “Oh my God, this is so good,” I groan, licking the foam from my Starbucks caramel macchiato off my lips. “I missed it.”

  I made Roar pull in when I saw the familiar logo. Wawa doesn’t have one. I know, because I looked. Tim Hortons is more Wawa’s speed and normally I don’t mind, but nothing beats the foamy sweet treats Starbucks has to offer.

&n
bsp; He went through the drive-thru and almost choked when the girl told him it would be almost fifteen dollars for three coffees. Matt ordered his cafe latte in the back seat and of course Roar just wanted a regular coffee. A term the girl at the window was not familiar with, so I ordered him an Americano. It really threw him off when I explained what an Americano was.

  “So basically you ordered me a regular coffee,” he pointed out, confused, which made me giggle.

  “They don’t do regular coffees at Starbucks,” Matt piped up from the peanut gallery.

  “Apparently they do,” Roar grumbled. “They just don’t know it.”

  I didn’t say another word, and avoided even looking at him while he paid the girl, but couldn’t hold back the moment that nectar of the gods hit my taste buds.

  “So good,” I repeat, with a sideways glance at Roar who takes a sip of his cup. “And?” I prompt.

  “Not bad, but not five fucking dollars worth of good, either.”

  “Think of it as our version of champagne, a celebratory drink,” I tease.

  “That’s overpriced, too.”

  I leave him alone the rest of the drive, and listen while he and Matt make plans. Sounds like they’re going to be busy for the foreseeable future.

  Suddenly it hits me; I have nothing to do. The motel will be under construction and I’ll be twiddling my thumbs the whole time. It’s gonna drive me around the bend. Fuck. I don’t even know if I’ll have a place to stay.

  “I should’ve thought this through more,” I mutter and can feel Roar’s eyes turn to me.

  “Second thoughts? Already?”

  His eyes scan my face and I’m sure the panic I feel is all over it.

  “What the hell am I supposed to be doing?”

  I see him bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing, but before he has a chance to answer, Matt leans forward between the seats.

  “What do you think you’ll be doing?” Matt fires off. “Sitting on your ass watching us? Hell no. A project this size needs all hands on deck. You wanted to be equal in everything, right? Well, then get ready for bruises and blisters, because you’ll be covered in them after the first week.”