Friday, May 17
Blake and I drove to our cabin in Minocqua for maintenance weekend. My sister and I became owners after our father died, entering a joint venture with seven other parters.
The bi-annual maintenance weekends were for guys, until I showed up. My dad had said the weekends were gambling and strip-club fests. He’d passed on them and worked on the place during his vacation weeks instead. JB, who couldn’t hang a towel rod straight, went up a few times after my dad died, then began scheduling work trips so he wouldn’t have to go. He complained about the strip clubs, but it was his lack of handyman skills that made him uncomfortable.
One of the partners, Elwood, had built the cabin with his brother. They couldn’t afford it and sold shares to partners. Elwood appointed himself manager and went on petty witch hunts if someone left a piece of tissue in a trash can, if dog hair was detected on the couch, if a smudge was on the jet ski. He’d had a fit when a partner replaced a saggy old mattress with a comfortable new one because Elwood hadn’t okayed it.
Elwood complained to me that JB hadn’t helped enough and hinted that I should start paying more money than the other partners or spend my entire vacation weeks doing chores. I told Elwood that Blake and I were attending maintenance weekend. Elwood hadn’t counted on that.
Blake and I arrived. Everyone seemed happy to see us, except Elwood. We went to dinner at The Black Bear. My phone dinged.
“BTW, I like kissing you,” Golf Guy texted.
“I liked kissing you.”
“I bet you love it in Minocqua.”
“It’s pretty excellent.”
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