Up at Butternut Lake: A Novel Read Free Page B

Seriously, Walk, what do you do with your free time up there?”
    “What free time?” Walker asked, only half jokingly.
    “Walk, even I have a little free time,” Reid pointed out. And we both know how you spend it, Walker thought. Chasing women. And, more often than not, catching them.
    “If you must know, Reid, I fish,” Walker said. “It’s very therapeutic. You should try it sometime. God knows you could use a little therapy.”
    Reid chose to ignore that remark. “Listen, Walk, I didn’t just call to congratulate you on the boatyard. I wanted to discuss something else with you, too.”
    Walker tensed. They both knew what that something else was.
    “I think you should move back to Minneapolis,” Reid said, without waiting for Walker to give him an opening. “I need you back here at headquarters. We agreed you’d live in Butternut for as long as it took you to turn the boatyard around. Well, you’ve done that. You’ve done that and more. That boatyard’s gone from being a cash drain to being one of the most profitable we own. Now I need you to do that again with another boatyard. And another. Because nobody’s better at day-to-day operations than you, Walk. Not even me.”
    That was high praise, indeed. And they both knew it. But still, Walker didn’t answer.
    Reid tried a different tack. “Seriously, Walk, I don’t know how you live up there year-round. I mean, it’s beautiful, I’ll grant you that. And you have every right to be proud of the cabin you’ve built. But you’re single. You’re in the prime of your life. And you’ve chosen to live in a place where the hottest game in town is Friday night bingo at the American Legion. Besides, you’ve told me yourself how competent your general manager is. So put him in charge and move back to the Twin Cities. You can still go up to Butternut on weekends. And fish to your heart’s content. Maybe even play a game of bingo or two.”
    Walker sighed. The promise of a headache had materialized, throbbing steadily at his temples. “Reid, can we talk about this later?”
    “No, we can’t. We can’t because I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a long time. I’ve tried to be supportive, Walk, even during your little . . . domestic experiment—”
    Walker interrupted him. “Is that how we’re referring to my marriage now? As a domestic experiment ?”
    “Look, call it what you want,” Reid said. “It didn’t work out. And it’s not surprising, really, when you consider that our first exposure to the concept of marriage was our parents’ marriage.”
    Walker winced. That was true enough. Their parents’ marriage had been a train wreck, and witnessing it had been more than enough to instill a lifelong fear of the institution of marriage in both of them. It was, they knew, something to be avoided at all costs. Walker’s brief, and unsuccessful, stab at it had done nothing to convince them otherwise.
    “Listen, Reid, I’ll call you in the morning,” Walker said.
    “Walk, I need an answer from you.”
    “Later.”
    “ Now, ” Reid insisted.
    “I think you’re breaking up,” Walker lied. “There’s a storm moving in.”
    “I’m not breaking up—” Reid started to argue.
    But it was too late. Walker pressed end on his cell phone and flipped it shut, dropping it on the desk. Reid would be annoyed, but he’d get over it. It wasn’t the first time Walker had hung up on him. And it most likely wouldn’t be the last time either.
    He left his study and went to the kitchen, grabbing a cold beer from the refrigerator. Then he cut through the living room and pushed open the sliding glass door that led onto the deck. It was pitch-dark outside. He glanced up at the sky. What moon there was was covered by a gauzy layer of clouds. He reached back inside the cabin and flipped on the outdoor lights. Then he walked out to the edge of the deck, found the black sheet of lake below, and twisted off his beer top. He sat down on an