“Who else is coming?” he asked, scanning the nearly full lot as he helped her out.
She put on her cowgirl hat, then noticed a swank BMW tucked between a few older model sedans.
“The cars probably belong to the musicians. I thought tonight was going to be just friends and family, but knowing my grandparents, they could have invited some community group.”
“At least we know Sister Evangeline is back in that tavern with her gin. God only knows what she’d do to me at a barn dance,” Jake said with an exaggerated cringe.
“I imagine your do-si-do dance card would be filled all night,” she said, then she gasped.
“What? Did you remember that the nuns were invited?” he asked as real panic flashed in his eyes.
She shook her head. “No, the nuns aren’t coming. At least, I don’t think they are. But we need to hurry. I just remembered that as the lobster luau queen, it’s my duty to kick off the barn dance.”
“Lucky for you, I’m wearing barn dancing shoes,” he replied, admiring his new boots.
She tossed him a wink. “You might not get the first dance, cowboy.”
He took her hand as they set off on the trail that led to the camp’s old barn. “Why not?”
“The way it works is that everyone puts their name in a hat, and the lobster queen has the first dance with the lucky winner.”
He pursed his lips and seemed to weigh the answer. “What if I write my name on all the slips of paper?”
“Then you’d be a cheater,” she said, meeting his devious gaze.
“A cheater who plays to win,” he replied, eyes twinkling.
“It’s one dance, Jake.”
“What if I don’t want to share?” he offered as his voice took on a low, rumbling edge.
“Do you always get what you want?” she asked as heat flooded her body, secretly loving how this man didn’t want to share her for even one dance.
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” he tossed back with a cocky grin that said he did get what he wanted.
She parted her lips, hoping a pithy comeback would materialize, but lost her train of thought as they rounded the bend to find the barn transformed. In the twilight, the twinkling lights they’d spent hours hanging lit the space in a cozy glow while the wildflowers she’d picked with the children earlier in the day were displayed in mason jars on top of blue checkered tablecloths that dotted the space around the dance floor. The once dreary and dank barn now sparkled with country charm as a fiddler tuned his instrument, setting the perfect soundscape.
“It’s…” she said, searching for the right word as adults laughed and chatted under a canopy of light while children weaved their way past the grownups to a table lined with sweet treats and pitchers of lemonade.
“You’re right. It’s…” Jake began when a clap of thunder and a smattering of raindrops darkened the gravel path.
“Oh, no! Our barn dance,” she cried.
He wrapped his arm around her and ushered her inside. “I was up on that roof all afternoon, hanging lights and those little hats of yours. The structure is sound. We should be fine.”
“The lobster queen has arrived,” her grandmother said, greeting them each with a hug. “And just in the nick of time. It looks like we’re in for some rain.”
Her grandfather joined them. “Come on in and see how wonderfully the barn turned out. You kids did a great job,” he said with a healthy grin, but Natalie couldn’t forget what the nuns had shared and wrapped her arms around the man.
Her grandfather patted her back. “What’s all this, Nat?”
“I’m just glad to be here,” she answered, blinking back tears.
“Get used to it, kiddo. You’re taking over,” he said with a sly-dog smile.
“And this time next week, your grandfather and I will be boarding a plane and heading to Maui for a real Hawaiian luau. We’ve never had a summer to ourselves,” her grandmother answered with a girlish blush.
Natalie shared a glance with Jake. “That’s wonderful news! You deserve many, many more summers together.”
“Well, it certainly gives us great peace of mind to know the camp will be in good hands,” her grandma Bev added as Finn joined them, holding a cowboy hat brimming with folded pieces of paper.
“Uncle Jake, do you want to put your name in the hat for a chance to dance with Aunt Nat?”
“Absolutely,” he answered as Finn’s expression grew serious.
“But you only get one piece of paper. I caught Uncle Leo trying to sneak in two!” the boy replied.
“I’m not surprised,” Jake said, tossing her a knowing look. “Who wouldn’t want to dance with your Aunt Natalie? She’s the prettiest lobster queen I’ve ever seen.”
Finn frowned then turned to her. “I guess you’re not that bad for a girl, Aunt Nat, and you’re good at climbing trees.”
“That’s what I like about her, too,” Jake said, clapping Finn on the shoulder.
The adults chuckled as Jake took the offered marker and slip of paper and entered to win the first dance.
Finn scanned the room, then held up the hat. “Okay, everybody! This is your last chance to enter to win the first dance with the lobster queen,” the boy cried as the room quieted.
“I’d like to enter,” offered an unfamiliar voice.
Natalie glanced over her shoulder at the stranger. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”
“No, we haven’t. I work with Jake Teller,” the man replied with a smug grin as the room grew silent, and all eyes fell on them.
“Charlie? My goodness, is that you? What are you doing here?” her grandmother asked, looking at the man as if she’d seen a ghost.
Natalie touched Jake’s arm. “Who is this?”
Jake stiffened. “This is Charlie Linton, my boss.”
“Your boss? Why would your boss come here?” She’d had a feeling that something was up with Jake’s work, but to have his boss track him down on vacation seemed absurd. And even crazier, why would her grandmother know this man?
“I’m here because Jake seems to have lost his way and forgot who was still in charge,” this Charlie replied with a cold bend to his words.
“In charge of what?” she asked, getting sick and tired of not knowing what the hell was going on.
Jake took her hand. “I’ve held something back from you, Natalie. Something I should have told you. I just didn’t know how.”
She glanced from Jake to his boss. “Tell me what’s going on?”
“For starters, this isn’t Jake’s first visit to Camp Woolwich, is it, son?” her grandfather said.
This was getting to be too much. She released Jake’s hand and took a step back. “What are you talking about, Grandpa?”
Her grandfather’s gaze softened. “The first night when your grandmother thought she recognized Jake, it was because he’d been here before—as a camper.”
Natalie inhaled a tight breath. “A camper? When?”
“When I was thirteen,” Jake answered, his gaze trained on the barn floor.
The room went topsy-turvy. Or maybe it was just her mind spinning. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jake, and Grandpa, if you knew, why didn’t you say something?”
“Because once your grandfather and I figured out who Jake was, we knew that coming back here had to be hard for him. We wanted to give him some time,” her grandmother offered.
“Time for what?” Nat asked, trying to make sense of it all.
“Jake’s parents didn’t pick him up from camp after the summer ended because they’d passed away,” her grandmother answered, and the penny dropped.
“Your parents died in a boating accident while you were here at Camp Woolwich?” she said, the words tumbling out.
He met her gaze with his eyes clouded with pain and nodded.
“We’d always wondered what happened to you, dear,” her grandmother offered gently.
“You’ve known who I was from that first night?” he asked, lifting h
is chin a fraction.
Hal nodded. “Yes, after you all left, Bev and I looked at the camp picture, then checked our records and found a Jacob Teller on the camper log. My wife never forgets a face.”
Natalie’s jaw dropped, but before she was able to get a word in, Charlie Linton cleared his throat.
“I hate to break up this touching moment, but Jake’s not here because he wanted to have a heart to heart Kumbaya moment with you people. He’s here because I sent him to get my land back.” The man eyed Jake. “Except, it looks like my protégé is trying to keep it all for himself and cut me out of the deal.”
Jake shook his head as his gaze turned cold. “That’s not true.”
Charlie crossed his arms. “What was your plan? Use the girl to get the land then convince her to sell it to you? If I didn’t think you were trying to screw me out of a deal, I’d say it was a genius idea.”
“You wanted to try to get my family to sell Camp Woolwich?” she said, glaring at Jake, the man she thought she might…no, she couldn’t go there.
“Where’d you even get the idea Camp Woolwich was for sale? You’ve left us alone for fifty years. What made you think you could get it now?” her grandfather said, his cheeks growing pink with anger.
Charlie turned away, and Hal scoffed.
“Don’t tell me we’re playing this game. Look me in the eye like a man, Linton.”
“You’re no man. You’re the scoundrel who took my land,” Charlie bit back.
Hal chuckled, a dry, sarcastic little sound. “Look at Mr. Sour Grapes over here. It’s been fifty years, and you’re still stewing, and you and I both know that I won this land fair and square.”
Charlie’s eyes flashed with anger. “That may be true, but you stole Bev away from me. We were friends, Hal, and you knew how I felt about her.”
Natalie watched, wide-eyed, as this love triangle unfolded.
Her grandmother’s features softened. “I was never yours like that, Charlie. We were always friends, dear friends.”
“Until this card shark swooped into our lives and ruined everything for me,” he shot back like a sullen teenager.
“You know that’s not how it happened,” Bev said gently.
“And you’re the one who racked up all those gambling debts, Charlie. Not me. If you remember right, I tried to get you to go home and cut your losses,” Hal answered.
A sour look marred Charlie’s expression. “I don’t need advice from you, Hal Woolwich. I’ve made a fortune over the last fifty years in real estate, and losing this piece of land, land that had been in my family for generations, was the only mistake I’ve ever made, and I’m not about to let it go unchecked. I know you’re thinking of selling. Name your price.”
“Wherever did you get the idea we’d want to sell to you?” Bev asked.
“Oh, that would be me.”
Everyone’s gaze bounced to…Lara?
“You?” Leslie exclaimed, staring at her sister.
Lara twisted a strand of hair around her finger like a six-year-old. “Yeah, remember when Gram called and wanted to talk to you about Grandpa last year when he got sick?”
Leslie stared at her sister. “You heard that call?”
“Oh yeah, Les! I can hear everything you do from my office,” the bubblehead answered.
“I didn’t think we were going to tell the kids,” Hal said, turning to his wife.
“I called Leslie because she’s a doctor. You didn’t want to go into the hospital, and I needed her reassurance that it was the right thing to do,” her grandmother said as the family murmured in the background.
Hal raised his hands to quiet them down. “Here it is, everyone. I had pneumonia last year, and your grandmother and I didn’t want to trouble anyone. As you can see, I’m doing much better.”
“What about the cough?” Natalie asked as the pieces started coming together.
“It’s taking me a while to get back to one hundred percent. I pick up a cold here and there much easier these days,” her grandfather answered.
“What I don’t understand, Lara, dear, is why you would tell Charlie Linton about Grandpa? How would you even know to contact him?” her grandmother asked.
“Cinnamon rolls and money,” Lara answered as if that could explain everything.
“Help us understand, dear,” Bev pressed.
Lara nodded. “Sure! I thought that with Grandpa’s deteriorating health, you might consider selling the camp if the right offer came your way. Right now, the Woolwich trust lays out that the profits of a sale would be split between the family, and Marcus and I needed the money to save our podiatric practice.”
Leslie went white. “You took the money? Leo and I have been going out of our minds, trying to figure out what happened. We thought it was an accounting error.”
“Oh, no!” Marcus chimed in. “That’s where the cinnamon rolls come in. Lara and I wanted to surprise you and Leo, so we invested the majority of the practice’s capital in foot inserts that smell like cinnamon rolls. But it turns out that nobody wants their feet to smell like pastry. We lost a ton of money.”
Leslie’s jaw dropped as Leo came to her side and took her hand.
“But, Lara, that doesn’t answer how you found Charlie?” her grandmother nudged.
The woman smiled like a game show hostess. “Oh, that’s easy! We all know that grandpa won this land in a card game. I figured whoever lost it may still be mad about it. Losing a huge chunk of land in a card game would be a very foolish thing to do.”
“Like investing in cinnamon-scented shoe inserts?” Leslie said under her breath as Leo patted her back.
Lara nodded, undeterred. “Yeah, exactly! So, I searched the land records and traced the land back to the Wiscasset family. Well, there aren’t any Wiscassets around here anymore, so I did a search of women with the maiden name and then searched for their married names, and that’s how I found Mr. Linton, the real estate mogul. It was tricky. The Wiscasset family name disappeared after a few generations with the birth of all daughters, but I had a feeling a Wiscasset relative with a huge real estate business would be a good place to start.”
Leslie shook her head. “You’re smart enough to figure all that out but not able to grasp that cinnamon roll-scented shoe inserts would be a terrible idea?”
“We all have our gifts, Les. Oh! Look, Marcus! There are oatmeal raisin cookies on the dessert table,” Lara answered as her gnat-like attention span took over, and she and Marcus made a beeline for the treats.
The room remained still as Lara and Marcus raided the desserts.
“You’re a Wiscasset? I thought you grew up in Boston,” Jake said.
Charlie looked away. “My great-great-grandmother married a Wiscasset, and this land was passed down to me.”
Her grandmother stepped forward and touched Charlie’s arm. “And then you lost it, Charlie, and Hal and I built a life here. I’m sorry that you’re so bitter. If you’d only come to us, you know we would have welcomed you with open arms.”
The man’s expression softened as he met her grandmother’s gaze, but in the blink of an eye, his hardened disposition returned, and he glared at Jake.
“Mark my words, kid. You’re done in this business,” the man said, then strode out into the rain.
Natalie caught her breath and stared up at Jake.
“Natalie, I—”
“Hold on a minute,” Leslie interrupted with a beady gaze. “How do we know that Natalie’s not a part of this? What if that guy was right, and she and her boyfriend had planned to try to get this land and then sell it or develop it themselves? If you and Grandpa and Grandma signed everything over to Natalie, she could alter the family trust and take everything.”
Heat rose to Natalie’s cheeks. “I would never do that?”
“You were the one who brought Jake here. He’s your boyfriend,” Leslie challenged.
Shame flooded her system. She wasn’t the only one who’d been dishonest. Natalie glanced at Jake an
d knew what she had to do.
“Jake’s not my boyfriend.”
“Natalie, wait,” he said, but she raised her hand to stop him.
She steadied herself. “Here’s the truth. I met Jake at the airport on the way to Maine. I’d just gotten dumped by my boyfriend, Jake, and then I met this Jake, Jake Teller, in the security line. We became acquainted and then found ourselves on the same flight. When we got off the plane and saw Leslie and Lara at the airport, I asked, well, begged him to spend the week with me and pretend to be my boyfriend.”
“Oh my, God!” Leslie sneered as the events of Jake agreeing to her proposal took on a new light.
She turned to her fake or real or God, she didn’t know anymore, boyfriend as an awareness washed over her like a punch to the gut. “You only agreed to come after Fish met us at the baggage claim, and you learned that I was part of the Woolwich family. I thought you did it because you liked me.”
She was an idiot. A complete idiot for falling for this con man.
“I do like you, Natalie,” he pleaded.
She shook her head as the sickening sensation remained. “No, you only liked what I could do for you. You used me.”
“It’s not like that anymore,” he whispered.
“But that’s how it started, right? Otherwise, you would have told me that you knew of Camp Woolwich and that you’d come here as a boy. You don’t want me. You want this land. You’re no different than your boss.”
“There’s more,” he said in a pained breath.
She threw up her hands. “What more could there be?”
He held her gaze. “Remember that night when you were thirteen and went to the Kiss Keeper’s well?”
“What about it?”
He swallowed hard. “It was me, at the well. I was the boy. I’m your kiss keeper.”
She shook her head. “No, no, you can’t be him. You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“How can I believe you?” she whispered, sounding as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
He closed the distance between them and set his hand on her shoulder, then brushed his thumb across her collarbone, and she gasped, remembering when he’d done the same thing fifteen years ago.
The Kiss Keeper Page 17