A Treasure Worth Keeping Read Free

McBride, when she was born. “A person can’t be too prepared.”
    “But what is it you’re preparing for, sweetheart? A tidal wave? Or maybe an asteroid?” Patrick peered in the car window at the flats of tomato plants lined up across the backseat.
    Evie was used to her dad’s teasing. “Don’t be silly.” She handed him a large sewing basket embroidered with strawberries. And a stadium umbrella. “We’d have plenty of time to get ready if one of those things was going to occur. This stuff is just for…every day.”
    Her dad frowned as she handed him a bag of groceries. “There is a grocery store in Cooper’s Landing.”
    “Do I need to mention that the expiration date on the can of corn I bought last summer coincided with the Reagan administration?”
    Patrick winked at her. “You love it here.”
    He was right, but Evie wasn’t about to admit that to Caitlin and Meghan.
    A week after school had officially closed for summer vacation she’d packed up her car, locked up the house and driven away with her traveling companions—the box of books on the passenger seat beside her.
    The closer she’d gotten to the adorable stone cottage her dad now called home, the more excited she’d been. When Patrick left on his fishing trip, Evie knew she’d be perfectly content just to stretch out on the wicker chaise lounge in the backyard and admire the lake from a distance. She loved watching Lake Superior change from steel-gray to vivid blue, depending on its mood. And Superior was a moody lake. The proof was in the hundreds of ships that slept below her ice-cold surface.
    Evie leaned close and kissed her dad’s bristly cheek. “You forgot to shave again this morning.”
    “I didn’t forget,” Patrick grumbled. “I’m retired. A man shouldn’t have to shave when he’s retired.”
    Evie looped the strap of a canvas messenger bag over her shoulder and headed toward the house. “Did you and your friend finally decide when you’re leaving?”
    “Day after tomorrow. Jacob’s picking me up at five in the morning. And—” Patrick put up his hand to prevent her from saying what he knew was going to come next “—you don’t have to get up and make oatmeal for me. The reason we’re leaving so early is because it’s a long drive to the lodge, and then we have to get to our campsite.”
    “Why don’t you just stay at the lodge?” They’d had this conversation several times already, but Evie thought it worth repeating. Until she got her way. Patrick was only fifty-nine, but she didn’t understand why he’d turned down a soft bed in the main lodge for a tent on a secluded island several miles away.
    “Jacob’s been camping for years,” Patrick said. “He’ll take care of me.”
    Evie snorted. “From what you’ve told me about Jacob Cutter, he’s a daredevil. I don’t want him to talk you into anything stupid. Or dangerous.”
    “You’ve been teaching the peer-pressure curriculum again, haven’t you?”
    Evie gave a weak laugh. “I’m sorry, Dad, it’s just that I want you to be careful.”
    “Careful is my middle name.”
    “Stubborn is your middle name,” she muttered under her breath.
    The sound of tires crunching over gravel drew their attention to the vehicle creeping up the long driveway.
    “Looks like you’ve got some customers,” Evie said, watching a black pickup truck rattle into view.
    “Maybe they’re lost.” Patrick grinned. “But I’ll still try to talk them into buying a pair of seagull salt-and-pepper shakers.”
    Evie laughed. Beach Glass didn’t have a single kitschy item like the ones he’d just described. Her dad spent the winter months combing estate sales to find rare objects—the ones that escorted his customers down memory lane. Patrick had told her more than once that everyone needed a connecting point to their past. Sometimes it was a book they remembered reading as a child or the exact twin of the pitcher their grandmother had used to pour maple syrup