CHAPTER TWENTY
Greg Bellamy was mildly shocked when Daisy agreed to go cross-country skiing with him. She and her brother were diehard downhill skiers who teased their dad about his passion for Nordic skiing.
“Too healthy,” they scoffed. “Too much work.”
So when he invited her and she agreed to get up at 6:00 a.m., he thought he was hearing things. And then he felt a rush of gladness. Yes. He’d hoped moving to Avalon would bring him closer to his kids. Maybe this was the first step. Max had spent the night with a friend and wouldn’t be back until afternoon. He and Daisy would have some quality time together.
Dawn was a thin thread of light on the horizon as they layered on clothing and put their gear in the back of the truck. “I’m starving,” she blurted out a minute after they got on the road.
“You said you weren’t hungry for breakfast,” Greg objected, still full from a big bowl of oatmeal.
“I am now.”
He reminded himself to be patient. “How about we stop at the bakery and grab something.”
She smiled over at him. “Perfect.”
The bakery was busy even at this hour. He spotted a group of downhill skiers and some early risers reading the paper. And… Greg did a double take at the woman in line ahead of him.
“Nina,” he said, and reminded her, “Greg Bellamy.”
She gave him a Sofia Loren smile. “I remember. How are you?” He tried not to stare, but damn. This Nina was different from the one he’d met when he’d first moved to town, the mayor in executive-dominatrix mode. This Nina wore soft blue jeans and snowmobile boots and a knitted cap that made her look no older than her teenage daughter, Sonnet. “You’re up early,” she commented.
“I’m taking my daughter skiing,” he said. “Cross-country, over at Avalon Meadows.”
“Sounds fun. How is Daisy, anyway?”
He tried to read between the lines of her question. No clue. Maybe she was just being a politician. “She’s doing all right. I’m looking forward to hanging out with her today. Do you ski?”
“Of course,” she said. “Cross-country and downhill. Both badly.”
Good to know.
At the counter, she ordered a single-shot espresso from the boy… Zach, recalled Greg, just in time to call him by name and place his own order—two hot chocolates and two sweet-cheese kolaches to go.
So this is bad, he thought, unable to stop eyeing Nina. His marriage had only been over for a few months, and he was already having impure thoughts about another woman.
He paid and turned toward the door, nearly dousing Nina with hot chocolate. “Sorry,” he said, steadying the cardboard tray. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Actually, I was waiting for you.”
Uh-oh.
She smiled as though she’d heard his uh-oh, and handed him a business card. “No need to panic. I was just wondering…if you’d like to have coffee or…something.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
His mouth went dry. “That’s nice of you, Nina. Really. But, uh, probably not.” He paused and took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain.
She didn’t give him a chance. “That’s okay,” she said brightly. “Just thought I’d ask.”
“But I—”
“See you, Greg.” She went over to a table crowded with locals and took a seat.
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered under his breath. He put the card in his wallet and headed out the door.
“Was that Nina Romano you were talking to?” asked Daisy.
“Uh, yeah.” He put the cups in the drink holder and handed her the bag of kolaches.
“So what did she want?”
“Who, Nina?”
“Yes, Nina. Geez, Dad.”
“She just wanted to say hi,” he said.
“What a liar.”
“I’m not—” Yes, he was. And he was so damn bad at it. “She asked me out. There. Are you glad you asked?”
“Oh,” said Daisy. “Ew.”
He headed for the river road. “My thoughts exactly.” Another lie, but he wasn’t about to admit to his daughter that he had the hots for the town mayor. “Anyway, I said no, thanks.”
Daisy nibbled on her pastry. “Was she mad?”
“No. She was really nice about it.”
“She’s really nice, period. That’s probably how she got to be mayor.”
“So you think she’s nice but I shouldn’t go out with her.”
“Honestly, Dad, it’s your choice. But I think it would be bizarre. Completely and totally bizarre.”
“I told her no. End of story.” It wasn’t, of course. It felt more like a beginning.
The parking lot at Avalon Meadows Golf and Country Club was nearly empty, though recently plowed. The course had an agreement with the city that during the winter it would be groomed for cross-country skiing. He parked and went around to get the gear out of the back of the truck—skis and poles, backpacks with bottles of water, a bag of trail mix and Daisy’s camera. Greg looked out over the snow—the smooth knolls and slopes of the golf course, and a wave of nostalgia engulfed him. The sensation was as sharp and sweet as the cold winter air. This was a place where time stood still, where the passing of the years left no mark. It looked exactly the same as it had when he was a boy, the colonial-style brick clubhouse, the beautifully sculpted landscape of tree-lined fairways, ponds fringed by cattails, dramatic rolling slopes and preternaturally flat greens, which were now white disks crowning each hole.
As a kid, Greg had always been as taken with the landscape itself as with the sport of golf. It didn’t matter to him whether he was driving a golf ball or simply standing in the hush of the forest where it was so
