Page 36 of Pity Parade

I punch the button to connect the call, and she picks up after only two rings. “Hello?” She sounds groggy.

“Trina, it’s Heath.” She hangs up.

I call her back. Without any pleasantries, she demands, “What do you want?”

“I was going to tell you, but you hung up on me.”

She waits several beats before saying, “So, tell me.”

I don’t blame her for being mad at me, but at the same time I wonder how Daniel would feel if he knew Trina was the reason he was in Elk Lake. I wonder if he even knows her or if this has something to do with her next television project. “I was calling to let you know that your friend has arrived.”

“Already?” She sounds panicky.

“I just met him. And before you yell at me, I was leaving my cottage to go for a drive when he pulled in.”

“What did you say to him?” Oh yeah, she’s worried.

“I introduced myself. I told him I was spending the summer next door.” I teasingly add, “But don’t worry, I didn’t mention anything about borrowing butter.”

Ignoring my attempt at humor, she demands, “What else did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you ask about me?”

“No.” I’m briefly tempted to tell her that Daniel thinks he’s here because he won some contest, but I suspect she’s already aware of this. “He seems to be looking forward to his stay.”

“Stay away from him, Heath,” Trina warns. “I mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I tell her, even though I have no intention of doing so. “You have a nice day.”

“Heath …” I find her threatening tone intriguing, especially as she’s the one keeping secrets. Trina isn’t going to tell me what to do. Like a petulant child, I tell myself that she’s not my boss. Heck, according to her, she isn’t even willing to be my friend. As such, I don’t let her finish her threat. Instead, I say, “Goodbye, Trina,” then click off the call.

She calls back immediately, but I send her to voicemail.

As I drive down the road to look at the acreage that’s calling to me, I force all thoughts of Trina from my head. After parking on the shoulder of the road, I get out of the car and look for a path that leads into the woods. When I don’t find one, I pick up a sturdy looking branch and break off the smaller stems until it’s relatively smooth. I’ll use it as a walking stick to help me keep my balance on the uneven ground.

The woods appear to be an even mix of pine, oak, and ash—very similar to where I grew up in Northern Illinois. I must walk a full mile before the landscape opens into an expansive meadow that’s nearly devoid of trees. It’s all tall grass and wildflowers as far as the eye can see.

Picking up my phone, I check to see that I have two bars out here. On a whim, I call the realty firm that has the property listed. Even though it’s barely nine, someone should be in.

After several rings, I start to wonder if they open at ten. That’s when I hear, “Good morning, Elk Lake Realty, this is Anna Tanaka.”

“Anna,” I say, surprised that the one realtor I know in town is the one answering the phone. “This is Heath Fox.”

“Heath, hi. What can I do for you? Everything going okay at your rental?”

“The cottage is great,” I tell her before adding, “I was driving around yesterday, and I saw some acreage for sale. I wondered if you might give me the details on it.”

“Are you talking about the hundred and fifty acres off of Elk Lake Drive or the ten on Potawatomi Place?”

While I’m mildly curious about the ten-acre property, I tell her, “The one-fifty.”

Given that I’m used to Chicago real estate, the price she quotes seems extremely reasonable. She says, “It’s zoned for multiple dwellings, but strictly forbids a standard subdivision. Each structure must be on a minimum of two acres to keep the integrity of the forest.”

“Is the zoning only residential or does it include commercial use?”

I hear the clicking of computer keys before she answers, “It’s both, but there’s a clause if you want to build a hotel or some other major rental facility. You need to keep at least forty acres untouched by development.” Without stopping to take a breath, she asks, “What do you want to use it for?”

---