The building was immaculate and better than her childhood memories. When she left, she’d known where to step to avoid every rotting floorboard from the porch to the staircase to the top floor.Christopher’s handiwork? Or Dad’s? Had she been such a burden that the pair and property were better off without her?
She’d wanted her absence to frustrate Dad. She doubted he’d laugh or flash a genuine smile without her around. He’d called her his joy, but she wanted to be his pride, too. He’d never taken her seriously enough to give her a chance to prove herself. And, in a moment of anger, she made a drastic decision, overwhelming herself with regrets.
A rolling lawn behind the Inn sloped towards the lake. From its perch, the Inn looked down on all its neighbors, including the old sawmill jutting out near the channel and the boardwalk on the south shore of Loon Lake. Owned by the Inn and the unofficial downtown, the boardwalk shops were just as mired in history and tradition. Leases passed from one generation to the next, so a Jenkins would always serve ice cream, a Phillips would run the arcade, and a Treacle would pull taffy.
She’d fought hard against history, hating the ties that didn’t just bind but suffocated. She’d had a partner in crime for childhood and then married him on a whim. But when she’d needed him most, he picked the better option, and she’d found the door on her own.
Headlights flashed.
Blinking, she shielded her gaze and spotted the car driving towards her on the road in front of the building.
The red sedan stopped on the driveway where the pavement circled back towards the main road.
A man hopped out of the driver’s side and strode to the main entrance.
The car engine ran, filling the air with exhaust. Carry-out orders waited at the host stand inside the restaurant’s front entrance. The man might be gone for as long as ten minutes.
She swallowed, fighting the cough building in her lungs. If she wasn’t so desperate for her favorite meal, the one she’d helped develop back in high school, she’d call the front desk about the idling engine outside. The earth wasn’t going to be saved by one car turning off. But every little bit helped.
As her vision adjusted to the car’s bright lights, she realized her hiding spot was no longer concealed. She knelt, branches scratching her as she repositioned herself on the ground. At least with the chill in the evenings in early June, she remembered to pack joggers, or she’d be covered in even more marks.
Footsteps echoed off the pavement.
In her back pocket, her phone vibrated.
She didn’t need to check the cell. She watched the delivery driver tap his phone and carefully set the bag in the designated spot. Her mouth watered. She could taste the smoky, thick-cut bacon with the rich eggs and crunch of the lettuce. Choosing between her favorites had been hard. She chose the easiest to eat in her cramped quarters.
“Please leave a good review,” the man yelled. “Thank you for the tip.”
She flinched.Had he seen her? Had anyone heard him?She couldn’t glimpse his face.
Heavy footsteps retreated. A car door opened and slammed shut. The sedan sped off, tires squealing on the asphalt.
Air whooshed from her lungs in a heavy exhale, her shoulders rounding forward. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she confirmed the delivery and left five stars. She shimmied out of the bushes, snapping the delicate branches and scrapping her exposed cheeks and arms with each twist. She probably left a human-sized dent of destruction in the poor plants. Mr. Willie, the groundskeeper, would demand an explanation and a budget increase to fix the problem.
When she was in charge, she’d gladly give him both. Darting out of the shrubs, she tripped over her feet on the way toward her dinner. Twisted ankles weren’t part of her plan. Righting herself, she grabbed the paper bag from its resting spot against the tree trunk and raced at full speed around the corner of the building. She leaped into the shrubs.
Cracks and snaps accompanied her, every movement as loud as fireworks over the lake. Her hands took the brunt of the assault. She sucked in a sharp breath, but she couldn’t slow down and assess the damage. She pushed on, past the bushes and into the forest, until she was sure her presence was undetectable.
She didn’t need an employee taking out the trash to spot her and call for help. She needed to reach the lighthouse on the little island several yards from the beach. Luckily, the cloudy night provided cover. Under a full moon, someone would spot her for sure.
She didn’t stop until she reached the fake lighthouse, racing over the wooden bridge and into the building. She dropped onto her air mattress, taking up much of the floor space in the large room, and dug in. She’d figure out her next step. When a person had nothing to lose and everything to gain, they were unstoppable. She snorted. That summed up her situation.
* * *
Christopher had heard he didn’t have feelings more times than he could count. Now, he started to believe public opinion. Operating with cool efficiency made the resort a success. He didn’t need friends. The closest he’d ever had ended up hightailing it out of Loon Lake the second she could and hadn’t been back in ten years.
Except, of course, she’d returned and now crouched in one of the bushes at the front of the property. Standing on the front porch, he was half hidden by a potted topiary. Coming outside after twilight was one of his favorite traditions, almost like meditation. He’d breathe the fresh air, inhaling a unique perfume based on the season. In late summer, the air hung heavy with honeysuckle; in the fall, dirt and leaves took precedence; in the winter, woodsmoke. But with spring finally giving way to summer, he smelled fading lilacs and hyacinths. No matter what happened during his day, he paused outside, to appreciate the beautiful place where he lived and worked.
Long ago, he’d vowed to give the business his all. What started as duty morphed into pride. When his commitment faltered, and his heart wanted him to track Ashley down, he found an inner strength and kept going. With the lines blurred between his professional and personal lives, he couldn’t stop one without impacting the other. Of course, she wouldn’t realize that he stayed for her sake. If he’d left, she wouldn’t have had any financial support.
He had resigned himself to accepting she could never appreciate the tough position he was in. Her father had given him a chance to prove himself but ended up relying on Christopher completely. Xavier had insisted on keeping her out of the mess his poor financial management and sidelined her. She’d been frustrated. Christopher hadn’t been able to explain then and doubted she’d agree with his characterization of his devotion now.
She had wanted grand—if somewhat reckless—gestures and over-the-top speeches. He had believed in actions. Although she couldn’t know the depth of his loyalty to her and her father without breaking her heart, she would learn Christopher’s true fortitude now in a fight for their respective futures.
As he took his evening stroll, he’d been intrigued by the sedan pulling in front of his hotel. The faded red car parked at the end of the building, near the pine tree planted fifty years earlier that had grown so large they needed a crane to string the lights for the annual Christmas festival. He did a double take when the car’s headlights beamed onto her.
He knew she was back. Her presence changed the atmosphere. Seeing her was startling, nonetheless.
