Eight months later
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Greg said, staring at the moving truck from behind mirrored sunglasses. The curbs were still piled with snow, but the air was warming, a little gift from the goddess of spring.
“It’s not so bad, Greg.” Mason nodded at the driver and gave a thumbs-up sign. “You can come up anytime.”
“You’re going to hate the winters.”
“It won’t be so bad. We know people in the area already and I’ve always loved the cottage.”
“Snowstorms.”
Mason eyed him. “We’ll buy snowmobiles.”
“Power outages.”
“And generators.”
“Hungry bears.”
“Big jars of honey.”
The sale of the business had gone strikingly well though that hadn’t surprised Mason in the least. The owner of Walkerton Developments had hinted for more than a few years that he’d jump if Mason
