Dockside by Susan Wiggs Page A

in the maelstrom, adapting to school and a new town with an easygoing aplomb that masked emotions he refused to discuss with Greg, Sophie or his therapist. Every once in a while, he blew his stack, giving Greg a glimpse of the rage the boy couldn’t quite keep in. Greg had the idea that putting Max on a team might give him an outlet. Max had always been physical, a good athlete, obsessed with hockey in the winter and baseball in the summer. He’d been a star on his team in the city. Here in Avalon, he had a chance to shine.
    Or not, Greg thought, waiting in the truck while the team gathered for the post-practice meeting with Coach Broadbent.
    Greg’s phone rang— please be her —and he snatched it up, eagerly checking the caller ID. But no. It was his lawyer, and Greg let it go to voice mail. He frowned, ticked off that Nina still hadn’t called him. He hoped like hell she would say yes to his proposal, but he wasn’t going to beg her. In the meantime, he stayed busy, mindful of his commitment to integrate work and family.
    Neither was going well.
    Six of the guest rooms were still under construction and would need refurnishing in the style of the period. The caretaker’s house, where he lived with his kids, was still a jumble of moving boxes and unmatched furniture. The boathouse and dock both needed work, too. On the upside, he’d assembled what was beginning to resemble a staff. An information technology consultant had set up a hospitality system that Daisy immediately mastered, even personalizing the software with her photography. The Web site was up and running, and it was with a sense of surreal amazement that they watched the inquiries and reservations flow into the inbox. However, having a staff, a slick site and system wouldn’t mean a thing until the general manager was in place to orchestrate everything.
    Nina Romano wasn’t the only game in town, he told himself. Or out of town, for that matter. The business consultant Greg had hired offered to send experienced candidates for his consideration. But Nina was the only one he wanted. She was the perfect fit. When it came to running an intimate luxury hotel, it was all about getting the right people. Nina was exactly right. He had a feeling about her. She had an air of confidence and a depth of experience no one else could match. The trouble was, she wanted to work there on her terms, and Greg had beaten her to it. Now it was up to him to persuade her that they could both benefit and so far, he’d done a lousy job of it.
    Coach Broadbent finished his meeting with the players and Greg got out of the truck. “Max!” he yelled and waved at his son.
    Max sprang into action, shouldering his duffel bag and water bottle and sprinting toward the parking lot.
    “Hey, buddy. How was practice?”
    “Fine,” said Max.
    “Okay, I asked for that. Let me rephrase. Tell me everything you did at practice.”
    Max put his things in the back of the truck. “Just the usual stuff.”
    Greg noticed that his practice uniform—gray knickers, navy shirt and white cap—were just as clean as they’d been when Max put them on. The kid hadn’t even broken a sweat. “You were on the bench when I drove up.”
    “Was I?”
    “You want me to have a word with Coach?”
    “Da-ad.” Max stretched the word into two syllables. “I can handle Coach, okay?”
    “That’s what I thought.” Greg studied his son. Sandy-haired and freckle-faced, he had the kind of smile that covered a myriad of issues.
    “But handle it,” he said. “There’s no need for you to waste a whole practice on the bench.”
    “I wasn’t—” Max cut himself off and got in the truck. “Can we go now? I’m starving.”
    Classic avoidance, Greg observed. This was what Max did—turned away from trouble, keeping things bottled up. Later in the summer, Max was going to Holland, accompanied by Sophie’s parents, the Lindstroms. Later, Max and his mother would return to Avalon in time for the wedding.