Page 15 of The Cottage on Blueberry Bay

“Because I can multitask,” Kyle said with a smirk on his face. “Do you think Grandma will lend me her car?”

“You could ask.” Quinn’s mother had been a bit reluctant to let the new driver behind the wheel of her car. “Maybe if you give her the exact details of who you’re with and where you’re going.”

“She loves Brianna,” Kyle said. “She goes to church on Sundays.”

“There you go,” Quinn said to his son. “You know Grandma loves a girl who attends church.”

Kyle pointed his finger at Quinn. “You know, Dad, you’re smart sometimes.”

Quinn laughed. “Gee, thanks. I think.”

Grandma Ginny didn’t really like the idea of her grandson dating in high school. Too young was her excuse, but she was really afraid he would do something stupid.

“He forgets his jacket every day,” she said to Quinn as Kyle had gotten ready for the prom last spring. “Have you had the talk with him?”

“Of course I’ve had the talk with him,” Quinn had said, but it had been more like a science lesson than a father-son heart-to-heart about falling in love and dating girls and all the other stuff that came with it like Lisa would have done.

“Well, he still needs to be reminded of things, if you know what I mean,” his mother had said to him.

He heard his mother loud and clear when Kyle showed him the latest pic of Brianna.

“I thought you said she goes to church?” he asked, looking at the scantily clad girl in a belly shirt.

“That’s heratchurch,” Kyle said, pointing to the people in the background.

Quinn needed his glasses to see better. “That’s what kids wear to church?”

He would have gone to church more often if it had been that way when he was a kid.

“You can’t be late tonight,” Quinn said to him.

“Why? It’s summer.”

“Because you promised Uncle Bobby you’d work with him tomorrow,” he said, waiting for the imminent complaints.

“Ah, come on,” Kyle started. “I hate working with Uncle Bobby’s crew on his boat. They’re all so lame.”

“You could work for me,” Quinn said, but he wasn’t even paying himself these days and could hardly afford his secretary, who was his mother. But he wasn’t paying for Kyle’s spending money and gas and all the food the kid eats at this point.

“Chris continuously rags on me,” Kyle complained. “Why can’t I just get my own license and take Jacob’s boat out?”

“He doesn’t know how to act around you. You’re the older cousin he just wants to impress,” Quinn reminded him, but also ignoring the boat comment.

“Can’t I just take Jacob’s boat?” Kyle begged. “Please? She won’t even know.”

“She’s coming to town today. She’ll know,” Quinn said. “And no going on her property anymore. It’s not ours to use.”

He could tell his son wasn’t going to listen to that one. “Kyle?”

“I know,” Kyle said, annoyed.

“Work for your uncle,” Quinn said, “and we can negotiate your curfew for the summer.”

“That’s so unfair.” Kyle muttered, then gave Quinn the silent treatment all the way back to Quinn’s childhood home, which he had moved back into after Lisa had died.

Kyle dragged his feet up the drive until he reached the stairs to the front porch, then he stomped up each one and slammed the front door closed before Quinn reached it.

“We’re home!” Quinn said, walking in with a bag of groceries.

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