Just Horsing Around

Chapter 12

As the next day dawned, I realized that I had way more important things to deal with than a murderer on the loose. Namely, the fact that I had a date with Jason Black that night.

“Ugh, I’m going to text him and cancel,” I said that morning as Sophie made pancakes, covering my face with a pillow.

“You are so not doing that,” Sophie said. “Besides, I knew you were going to threaten that, so I already took your phone and hid it. You’re going on that date.”

“That’s so unfair. I hate you so much.”

“Yeah, well, too bad. It’s for your own good.”

“Gee, thanks mom,” I replied sarcastically.

“Now remember, do as little talking as possible. Men like to talk about themselves, and you are quite frankly horrendous at flirting.”

“Oh my God! I might not be the best at it, but I’m not that bad.”

“You really are. Remember in middle school when you decided you had a crush on Kevin Maroney? You ended up joining band just to hang out with him, and then you hit him with your tuba and knocked him out.”

“It was an accident!” I protested.

“Yeah, that’s the point of the story.”

“I’m an adult now, anyway.”

“I know, but you have so little experience with men that I just always feel like you’re going to screw things up completely,” Sophie replied.

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We can’t all go around sampling the goods until we find one we like.”

“Are you calling me a slut?” Sophie asked, hands on her hips.

“I am.”

“Well I guess that’s probably pretty accurate,” she replied with mock outrage, collapsing into a fit of giggles. “I’m taken for good now, though. Taylor and I are serious.”

“Good, he’s the best guy you’ve dated, well, ever,” I replied, stealing a pancake off the plate and shoving it whole into my mouth.

“Things you probably shouldn’t do tonight include eating food like that, Liz Lemon,” Sophie scolded, and I laughed with my mouth full. 30 Rock was still one of my favourite comedies of all time.

“I’m going to go ride my bike around town, since it’s such a nice day,” I told Sophie.

“Good plan. I’m taking Sprinkles with Taylor and we’re going to go down to the beach.”

“Are we? I love the beach! I love it so much! You’re the best!” Sprinkles said, shooting up from where he was lying on his bed.

“Ugh, he’s so enthusiastic about everything, that dog disgusts me,” Bee said, and I chose to ignore her complaining. Bee was not on my good side after her adventures last night.

An hour later I’d taken out my mountain bike, made sure it was still in good working order, and headed off to some of the easy trails around Willow Bay.

One of the amazing things about this area is that there are so many things to do. Around the town is a network of around 70 miles of mountain bike trails, everything from easy to expert. Of course, I was decidedly not an expert mountain biker, but I could definitely handle the easy, doubletrack trails that were more designed for families and people looking for an easy ride. There was one trail in particular that went from near our house, behind Willow Bay and made its way ten miles out to a beautiful scenic point overlooking the town from the other side of the bay. I decided I was going to tackle this trail today.

I grabbed a water bottle, changed into my workout clothes and got ready for my ride. The first few miles were in thick forest, which was nice. I could hear the birds singing their morning song, and even saw a doe with her little foal crossing the path in front of me. Eventually, the path opened up on the right to give a beautiful view of the water below, and about an hour later I was at the lookout point. I rested my bike against the back of a bench while I sat in and enjoyed the view. Listening to the sound of the waves rhythmically pounding the shore, the warm summer sun on my face, a soft breeze blowing against my slightly sweaty skin, I thought about how perfect this morning really was.

I hadn’t been on my bike in almost a year, and it felt really, really good. After about half an hour of lazing around on the bench, I headed back into town. At the last second I took a different fork at the end of the path that led me to downtown Willow Bay. I was going to stop at Betty’s Café for some takeaway lunch! After all, I’d just biked twenty miles, if anyone deserved a veggie BLT right now, it was me.

I locked up my bike against a lightpost outside the café, knowing full well that my old, beat up mountain bike wasn’t worth anything, and most bike thieves from Portland never bothered to come down to Willow Bay anyway, but you could never be too safe.

To my surprise, when I opened the door to the café, that same guy in the suit that I’d run into the other day was standing at the counter, grabbing a coffee.

“Imagine seeing you again, it must be fate,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, not really thinking about it.

“I’m Matt, by the way,” he told me, holding out a hand.

“Angela,” I replied, not wanting to be rude by refusing to talk to him. I wasn’t a fan of his fairly obvious flirting, and I really just wanted to eat my BLT in peace.

“Are you from around here?” he asked.

“I own the vet clinic down the street.”

“Oh, nice!” he replied, obviously impressed. Or at least pretending to be. “Well, I’ve got to go. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he replied, grabbing his coffee and heading off. I didn’t reply and looked after him, slightly confused.

“What did he mean by ‘We’ll be seeing more of each other?’” I asked, half to myself, half to Betty behind the counter. Her face was grim.

“Haven’t you heard?” she asked.

“Heard what?”

“Matt Smith is some fancy businessman from Portland. Got his MBA from Wharton or something, thinks he knows everything about everything. He wants to buy up a chunk of Main Street and modernize it, bring Willow Bay to the 21^st century or something.”

“Seriously? Does he not understand the concept of small-town charm? You turn downtown into a bunch of soulless white buildings and no one will come here anymore.”

“I know. I’ve told him that, but he’s convinced we’re small town morons who don’t understand how business works.”

Great. Another idiot from the big city who wanted to try and make a profit at our expense. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Luckily, so far Willow Bay had managed to avoid any kind of major changes to the town for a long time. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before this Matt Smith realized how terrible an idea he had and left town for good; the people who tried these sorts of things never stayed long term.

I ordered one of my BLTs and a slice of Betty’s new chocolate pecan cheesecake – which the whole town had been clamouring for ever since Jason broke the news in the Whistler that she was going to be offering it – along with a coffee and sat down at a table in the corner by myself, deciding to spend my lunch people-watching.

A few minutes later Betty brought me my sandwich and coffee, promising to bring the cake along when I finished. It was obvious from looking around that tourist season was well and truly starting. At one of the tables in the other corner was a family whose son was wearing a Seattle Totems minor hockey jacket, a couple of young Japanese tourists were sitting by the window enjoying a slice of cake while comparing photos and a young mother wearing a Portland hotel work uniform was sitting at the counter with her baby, feeding him the occasional bit of the slice of cake she was eating.

Just as I was finished up my sandwich and Betty brought me my slice of cake, an elderly couple sat down next to me and began to speak in another language. They had their guide books out, and I vaguely began to pay attention as they stopped Betty on her way back to the coffee machine.

“Excuse me,” the man asked in halting English.

“Yes?” Betty asked, a smile on her face.

“Kalifornien. How far from here?”

“Where?” Betty asked, confusion forming on her face.

“Kalifornien.”

“California,” I offered helpfully, trying to hide my smile. Betty was the world’s nicest person, but I’d be surprised if she had ever gone further than Seattle before in her life, and she often had trouble with accents. I wasn’t surprised that someone using a foreign word for the state name, no matter how similar it was to the English version, confused her.

“Ah, thanks Angela,” she told me. “Yes, California is five hours by car to the border. San Francisco is ten hours away.”

“Thank you very much,” the woman replied, giving Betty and I both a smile.

“Where are you from, anyway?” Betty asked them kindly.

“We are from Sweden,” the man replied. “Our first trip to Amerikas.”

“Well, enjoy! Have fun,” Betty told them before heading back behind the counter. “Let me know if you have any other questions.” They thanked her profusely and then went back to their guide books as I finished my cake. This was the sort of thing that you couldn’t invent in a town like Willow Bay. Even though she barely understood them, I knew Betty would make every effort to help the Swedish couple figure out what they needed, if they asked her. That was the sort of thing people like Matt Smith didn’t understand: this town had soul. It had spirit. And trying to turn it into a whitewashed modern resort like the ones you saw on TV in places like Hawaii was just not what Willow Bay was about.

Finishing off my cake, I took the plate back to Betty and thanked her.

“No problem! Thanks for the help with that tourist couple.”

“Anytime, Betty. See you later!”

“For sure.”

Checking my watch, I noticed it was still early in the afternoon. I could go home and spend a little bit of time relaxing in front of the TV for a couple of hours before I had to get ready for my date with Jason. Because yeah, that was a thing that was still happening. I didn’t know if I was looking forward to it, or if I was dreading it more than anything I’d ever done. Possibly a little bit of both.