Cabin by the Lake by Desiree Douglas

his forehead. She kind of wanted to run her fingers through it.
    No, no, no! Mike had secrets. He was obviously an unemployed drifter, catching odd jobs when he needed money. She hadn’t seen any unacceptable behavior in him, anything that would bode ill for Aunt Vi. So far. She hadn’t seen any signs of drug use. She hadn’t seen him smoke. She hadn’t heard him curse once. She couldn’t find one single thing wrong with him. And that, in itself, was suspicious. Nobody was that perfect!
    She forced herself to tune in to what he was saying about the mantel.
    “Solid oak, hand hewn, it’s really a work of art.”
    She ran her hand across the surface. “And what do you think about the river rock surround? A little dated, maybe?”
    “I think we should keep it,” he replied.
    We ?
    “We don’t want to mess with the integrity of the style. It’s rustic and true to the era, and really, some things just need to be left alone.”
    “What about the kitchen?”
    “If I had my way, I’d do a total gut job,” he said, moving across the cabin to the other side. “New cabinets. Or if Vivian doesn’t have the money, they can be sanded and painted.  Get rid of this peninsula and replace it with an island and bar stool seating. We can probably get three stools here and still have room to keep the table and chairs.”
    “Lots of memories around this table,” she said. “Many hands of Uno were played here, when the adults were around, and many hands of poker when they weren’t. Just another one of our oh-so-naughty attempts at being bad. As you can see,” she laughed, “the depth of our badness was not very sophisticated.”
    “Sounds like fun,” he said, smiling. “We could refinish the table and chairs, as well as the bedroom furniture upstairs, and it will be beautiful. It was all well made and is still relevant.”
    There was that we again. But she couldn’t help being caught up in his vision. “Yes, I can see it. What do you think about granite countertops?”
    “I was thinking concrete. It’s less expensive and I think it would bring in a modern, almost industrial aspect that would still be in keeping with the rustic feel of the place.”
    “Concrete? That sounds awful.”
    “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
    “I’m thinking of a sidewalk, rough and ugly.”
    He laughed. “No, it’s not like that. It’s poured into a mold to fit your counter space. They mix in dye, so it can be any color you want. When it’s done, it’s smooth and sleek and shiny, or whatever look you want.”
    “Oooo, I might like that idea,” she said. “Then we replace the appliances, and the kitchen is done. The rest really just needs a little elbow grease and it will be beautiful! I think Aunt Vi could easily rent this place out and have some extra income.”
    She leaned her elbows on the kitchen peninsula and rested her chin in her hands, smiling. “You have really good ideas, Mike Rodgers.” She still doubted that was his real name, but she was beginning to like it. She hoped his real name wasn’t Cecil or Fred.
    “Thanks, Lydia Steadman,” he said, returning her smile, inordinately pleased at her approval.
    Unaware that his thoughts were running along the same lines as Lydia’s, it occurred to him that she might be living under an alias. His online searches had yet to yield any trace of her. Nowadays it’s difficult to live your life without showing up on the Internet.  He had resources at his disposal to easily investigate her past, but he felt strongly that prying into her personal life for the sole reason of satisfying his curiosity would end badly. And he thought that he might not want this new relationship with Lydia to end at all.
    Did they even have a relationship? He felt as if he might be in danger of getting in over his head.
    He found a lot of humor in the fact that she evidently suspected that he may have some shady intentions toward her aunt. He admired her protective instinct, but she was