Page 122 of The Holiday Fakers
Billy lets out another over-the-top huff as he follows my gaze. “That’s Lucky’s fault.”
“Not entirely,” his mom adds. “There was that time you tried to climb it.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop my laugh, but Billy can see it in my eyes and grins at me.
“I never knew what to expect, having a little boy,” Judy says. “I only had sisters.”
“My best friend and I once pretended the stairs at his house were Mount Everest and tried to scale it with ropes, crampons, and ice axes,” I say apologetically to her, as if Billy and I are linked by our desire to bring the adventure of the outdoors inside.
“Awesome!” Billy shouts.
“No, buddy, we could have gotten into a lot of trouble.”
“Can I offer you both a drink?” Judy asks.
“A glass of water would be lovely, thanks,” I say.
“Brody! Let me show you my room!” Billy doesn’t wait for a reply, dragging me toward the door. He glances over his shoulder at Piper. “It’s guy stuff,” he says apologetically.
“That’s okay,” she replies. “I’m gonna hang out with your mom.”
He nods. “Good idea.”
I jog up the stairs behind him and Lucky to the very top of the house. Billy has the attic, with skylights facing the ocean on one side and the mountains on the other.
“This is the coolest kid’s room I’ve ever seen.”
Billy nods. “It’s got everything.”
He proceeds to give me the tour, showing me his toys, his Legos, the glow-in-the-dark stars on the sloped ceiling, and finally, a telescope mounted on a stand.
“I watch the boats at sea on that side,” he says, pointing at the window behind us. “But through this one, there’s something way cooler.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’ll have to bend down, but I’ve set it up for you.”
I crouch and put my eye to the end of the telescope. “No way …”
“Yesway,” Billy replies. “Can you see it?”
“Yup.” A third of the way up the snowy slopes of the mountains that encircle Hideaway Harbor, I see the cave.
“When I was your age, we used to think pirates lived there.”
“Only in the summer,” Billy says authoritatively. “In the winter, it’s too cold, so the yeti lives there.”
I take a knee so I’m face-to-face with him. “You know, buddy, you can’t go there again on your own.”
He swallows, and the serious expression on his face tells me he understands. “I know. And I won’t …”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Maybe, in the summer, we could go on an expedition to the cave with Grandpa?”
“Only if we find a different route across the gorge, okay?”
“Is that a yes?”
