by Jean Oram
He leaped out of bed. “Quit interfering.”
“Um…helping?” She gave him a valley girl look.
“You’re making things worse. Stay away from her and quit meddling in my life. Didn’t I already tell you to leave me alone?”
“You’re confused, Finian.”
“I know, and you’re only making it worse. I need to see Hailey.”
“You aren’t going to have a life if you let her near you. Did you hear they are stopping the development of a very lovely resort and spa because of those old things--and because of you.” Jessica folded her arms, eyes narrowed. “Just remember Finian, if you go down, so do I.”
“Go home.”
Jessica turned on her heel, and with a glare, left the room.
Finn sagged, trying not to think. Trying not to feel.
Being a celebrity sucked.
He tugged the tablet closer and, unable to resist, flicked through the photos again. Ten images of him happy and relaxed. Looking like a family man, with Tigger in one of her fluffy party dresses resting on his hip. One of him smiling at Hailey over a cup of coffee, his hair bed-head messy. One of Hailey smiling over her shoulder at him while he was strapped to her back for parasailing. The amazing shot of him with the turtle in the reeds. One she’d taken in her studio, where she’d caught him just before a laugh. His eyes were lit up with what looked an awful lot like love.
Was he really this man? Could he be this person and fulfill his obligations? Could he make a difference with something as innocent as an endangered species? What would happen if he said “amen” to these photos and began a life worth living? A life full of meaning?
He ran his hands through his hair, wishing he had a crystal ball so he could look down the paths presented to him, so he could see where they would take him. And which path would lead him to Hailey. The one where they ended up happily together.
Finn reached for his vibrating phone. Derek. He flipped it on its face, wishing he’d lost it in the lake last night.
A few moments later the cottage phone rang, then his mother entered his room.
“Derek is on the phone for you.”
“Tell him I’m sleeping.”
“He said he needs to talk to you even if you’re, uh, indisposed.”
“Thanks.” Finn took the phone and turned it off.
His mother raised a brow, the Toronto Sun dangling from her hand. A familiar face was smiling out from the pages.
“What’s that?” he asked, pulling the visual arts section from her grip.
“Hailey.” His mother gave him a questioning look. “You missed her opening last night.”
“Yeah, I suck, Mom.”
“Language, please, Finian.”
“Sorry.”
One last look from Daisy and she closed the door, leaving him alone with the article.
Finn read the story about Hailey. New York galleries were already abuzz about her show at Simone’s. And critics loved how she’d hung a story and not just photographs. It was an unexpected surprise, they said. But the worst was that she’d given him due credit for hanging the show. Him. Finian Alexander. Linked to her artistic statement.
He lowered the paper and pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes. His cell began vibrating again and he knocked it off the bedside table, smashing it underfoot until it cracked and its screen went black.
Swallowing, he tugged on a pair of jeans. He was a fake bad boy who was hiding his artistic side, and she was winning awards and getting big paychecks for revealing that fact to the public.
Never trust a noncelebrity especially when she had a camera. Rule number three. And he’d broken it along with all the rest.
And for what? A girl who didn’t love him back.
Finn paid the man in the cherry-red boat handsomely not only for figuring out where Hailey’s Nymph Island was, but also for transporting him there. It had taken him a while to figure out where to find her, but luckily, Muskoka was a helpful place. He cast a glance behind them as they sped across the water, watching the trail of paparazzi following them.
The loud boat tore across the lake, throwing waves as it spun around a sharp, rocky point on a horseshoe-shaped island in order to slip between the two islands. The driver chose the smaller island, protected by the horseshoe, and cut the engine as he cranked the wheel, swamping an old dock that supported a leaning boathouse.
Hailey. She was basking in the late afternoon sun, drink in hand, along with her three sisters, Tigger, and Simone. They all had their mouths bent in various expressions of distaste due to his arrival. But it was Daphne who flew to her feet, fist raised, as she shouted to the driver. “You harbinger of death! Where did you get your boating license? Canadian Tire?”
“He probably did,” the woman beside her quipped. Finn guessed she had to be the sister he hadn’t met yet, Melanie. “That’s where we took the test.”
“There’s a law about speed limits, and you are well within thirty meters of shore--sensitive shoreline, in fact!”
“Maybe he needs a measuring tape. Men do tend to have a poor sense of length.” Melanie rocked back on her heels, arms crossed.
“Loons nest on this shore, as well as mergansers.” Daphne stormed toward them and Finn paused, one foot on the wet dock, one foot still in the boat. “How many nests did you just swamp? How many babies did you just drown in your reckless display of testosterone? How many family lines just came to an end because of your need to show off?” Her eyes filled with tears, and Hailey drew her back into the fold of women.
The driver asked Finn, “You sure you want off here? That one’s crazy. I’d say she’d eat you for supper, but I’m pretty sure she’s vegan.”
“Nah, she’s cool.” Finn climbed onto the dock and pushed the boat off, hoping he’d be able to get a water taxi to take him back--and quickly, if things didn’t go well. He was losing the indignant Hailey-you-used-me speech he’d created in his mind, and was starting to feel as though maybe the women would go after him instead of the other way around.
The boat roared away, swamping the dock with water again. Finn cringed as the women threw the driver icy glares before turning back to him.
Maybe next time he should ask an older gentleman in one of those long, 1920s wooden boats to take him for a ride. That way maybe he’d arrive without his foot rammed down his throat.
“Finian!” Tigger came bounding toward him, leaping into his arms.
He held her up, squinting as if unable to recognize her. “Is that Tigger?” He looked at the lifejacket clipped over her bathing suit, then up at her. “Where’s your big dress?”
She giggled and said, “I have a ruffle on my suit. See?”
He placed her back on the dock. “It’s a very nice ruffle. Very Tiggeresque.” Finn ran a hand through his hair and gave the women a sheepish half smile. “Uh, sorry for my poor arrival.”
He looked at the cluster of them, iced drinks in hand. He was crashing a celebration without a ride back. A few boats holding paparazzi drifted past the dock and he felt more uncertain than ever. When he was on shore it had seemed like the thing to do--come out here to shake Hailey’s hand and congratulate her on one-upping him. Basically, get a leg up with a passive-aggressive dig designed to make her feel guilty for outing him to the world as someone who had been faking being a celebrity gone bad. And for intentionally ruining him and going against their deal.
“How are you going to get home?” Maya asked, stepping forward.
“Um…” He glanced at the sisters. There was something that was off…as if he was the one in the wrong, and not only for the way he’d arrived.
He took a step back, almost falling into the water. He caught himself and quickly threw on a role. Confident man in charge, who was supposed to be here.
And action!
“Could I talk to you, Hailey?” He reached through the group of women, pulling her out by the elbow.
Hailey’s chest heaved, and her sisters and friend dropped back, eyes
narrowed at Finn. He drew Hailey around to the other side of the boathouse and into the cool shade. The dock was worn, soggy in parts, and the walkway was narrow compared to the sunny side. Hailey leaned a shoulder into the green-stained siding and crossed her arms, probably trying to block out the boat filled with paparazzi drifting in the water behind her.
“So?” she asked, her voice low so her words wouldn’t carry over the water.
“I think you’re officially fired.” He had a brief image of him adding, Fired because I love you. Then sweeping her into his arms. He shook off the daydream. “I’ll have my assistant send you payment. I keep all the photos and retain their copyright.”
Hailey bristled. “No.”
“They’re photos of me.”
“I’m the photographer. You didn’t ask for copyright. I didn’t sign it away.”
“I want them.”
“You can’t have them.”
“Wow.” He shook his head and let out a huff of air. “You know, I came here to offer you congratulations.”
“For what? Surviving being stood up at my show opening? Or for being stupid enough to not foresee you getting back together with your ex as soon as she arrived?”
“Wait. What?”
“I saw the pictures in the tabloids of you kissing, Finian. Everyone did.”
He ran a hand down the stubble on his chin. He’d forgotten about Jessica and her unwanted kiss.
“I can explain.”
Hailey slapped him hard across the mouth, making his lips sting.
“Son of--! Hailey!”
“You and your two-timing ways aren’t wanted here. I don’t appreciate being jerked around. Got it?” She crossed her arms again, glaring at him with contempt. “I thought you were real. I thought you were different.”
She whirled, glaring at the paparazzi shooting images as if they’d never seen something so juicy. “You guys get all that?” She pointed at Finn. “Because I was mistaken. You can ignore all that good-boy, family man, environmentalist stuff I leaked, because it’s not true. He’s a liar and a snake.”
She turned, hands thrust out to push him into the lake. He snatched her by the wrists, and spun, lessening the momentum of her attack.
“Hailey.” He pulled her close, making eye contact. “We were good together.”
Hailey’s head tipped down, her lower lip trembling as she yanked her wrists out of his grip, pushing past him.
He jogged to catch up, snagging her hand, forcing her to turn around. “I’m sorry, Hailey.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m glad I know who you are now. Before I fell in love.” Her voice choked on the word love and his heart tore.
She fled up the dirt path that led to the looming structure on the hill above.
“We’re celebrating the cottage!” Tigger said, bouncing in front of him. She tugged his hand, trying to gain his attention. “We had a picnic. Mom says I waited long enough to go swimming again. You can’t swim right after you eat or you die. Did you bring your bathing suit? We have a beach!”
“A beach is nice,” he said, his attention on Hailey’s retreating form. He placed a hand on Tigger’s shoulder, anxious to follow the girl’s aunt. “I’ve gotta catch up with Hails, okay? Hopefully we can talk more later. I bet you’re an awesome swimmer.”
Tigger gave a reluctant nod and he took that as permission to tear after Hailey. The cottage path rose between towering white pines and stunted maples, arriving at a large green cottage with a white wraparound veranda. He climbed the steps to the veranda, careful where he placed his feet on the sagging boards. This place was ancient and he could almost imagine late-Victorian ladies traipsing along the gray-stained floorboards, parasols over their shoulders, as they vacationed in their summer house, away from the pressing heat of the city.
Hailey, swinging in a hammock in a corner, stopped moving when she noticed him.
“I thought it was real, Hailey. That we were real. How out of touch am I?” He let out a huff that bordered on a bitter laugh. “You played me. Used me for your own reward.”
“I did not play you.” She stood, indignant. She raised the hand that had slapped him, and he touched his still-stinging, swollen lips in response.
“No, you did. When I met you, I thought it would be great if you posted photos of me online--bad-boy stuff.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “But I trusted you and let you see the real me. I felt as though I could change my life when I was with you, and I couldn’t be anyone but my real self. I let down my guard and all the while you were one step ahead.” He clapped briefly. “Well played, Hailey, well played.”
She stared at her feet, shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Finian.”
“I hope you enjoy your career, because you just ended mine.”
15
Hailey watched the boat take Finian away as it disappeared around the island as she sank into her Muskoka chair.
She was supposed to be happy today. Her sisters had forgiven her. Her show was doing amazingly well, with almost a third of the inventory already sold. The weight was supposed to be easing off, but instead she felt as though it was getting worse.
A tear trailed into her margarita. She’d been wrong to sell the photos of Finian. How had she ever thought she was in the right and that it would turn out okay? Why had she tried to change him? Didn’t she like him for all his flaws and the way he was a contradiction?
The celebration on the dock had turned quiet, and Tigger, fed up with the lack of party atmosphere, had gone to check on her fairy houses.
“So? What was that all about?” Daphne asked.
Hailey shook her head, unable to speak over the lump in her throat.
“Oh, poop.” Daphne leaned over and gave her a half hug. “You went and fell in love.”
She blinked hard, wishing the tears would stop falling. “No, I didn’t.”
“That’s going to sting for a while,” Maya said, topping up Hailey’s margarita.
They sat in silence as squirrels scolded each other in the trees overhanging the dock.
“So, let me get this straight.” Maya held out her hands as she did when she was trying to sort through things. “You went paparazzi? On your boyfriend?”
Daphne made a shushing sound and Simone patted Hailey’s hand.
“He was just…just a…”
“You thought he was going to summer fling you,” Daphne said, her mouth in a serious line.
Hailey nodded.
“But he was more than that?” Maya asked. She leaned back in her chair, downing half her frozen drink. She gasped and clutched her head as brain freeze set in. “Was this for the cottage?”
She nodded again.
“Hailey!” Maya sat upright, her chin dropped in horror.
“It wasn’t just the cottage, though. I thought…I thought…”
“She thought,” Simone said, “if he saw how he could be a nice guy in the tabloids instead of being the messed up celeb, she could help him rebuild his image and further his career. You know, help him be real.”
“But he’s totally an obnoxious celebrity?” Daphne asked.
Hailey tipped her head back, watching the stringy clouds drift by overhead. “He’s not, though. He’s really nice.” She let out a sigh. “And I messed up.”
“Oh. My. Word.” Maya scooted to the edge of her chair, angling toward Hailey. “That viral stuff about him being a good guy and an artist was you?”
She nodded.
Her sister fell back into her chair. “Wow. Remind me to never mess with you.”
Mallards drifted by, heads tilted sideways, probably wondering if the women would be good for tossing out a snack.
“Someone must be feeding them. I hope it’s not bread. It’ll muck up their gizzards,” Daphne stated.
“No wonder he’s upset,” Maya said. “You just redirected his image. Hugely.” She shook her head, beaming with pride. “My big sister.”
“Except…” Hailey let out another massive sigh,
longing for Finian and the fun times they’d had together.
“Oh, honey.” Maya slipped out of her chair so she could lean over her big sister and give her a hug.
Daphne’s attention focused across the water to the next island. “What are they doing over there?”
Melanie leaned forward. “They’re knocking down Salty Dog!”
“But it’s over a hundred years old,” Daphne protested, her face falling as a bulldozer went at the west end of the old cottage across the strait. The women watched in silence as the building caved in with a loud crash and a cloud of dust.
“Good. That place was about to fall over,” Maya said, returning to her seat.
“Maya!”
“It’s true. The one side was buckling.”
“But the heritage,” Daphne moaned. “It’s gone. They could have fixed it.”
“I heard there’ve been a lot of private sales over there this summer,” Melanie said. “Thank goodness the camp for teens is still there, though.”
Hailey counted the cottages along the shoreline. As far as she knew, only one was still in the founding family’s possession.
Daphne stood. “We have to save it.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Maya said, finishing her margarita. “I’ve got to get back to the mainland soon. Late shift at the Bar ’n Grill and the dealership in the AM.” She let out a sigh.
Daphne turned to look up the path to their cottage. “We need to claim this as a heritage site.”
“Daph.” Maya ran a thumb and index finger over her eyes. “There is nothing culturally significant about our cottage.”
“Actually,” Melanie said, her eyes lighting up, “if we could prove it held cultural value or interest we could ensure the property stayed as is and reap some tax benefits.”
“Does that mean you’re keeping it?” Simone squealed in delight.
Maya stood up and clapped her hands. “What do you think the odds are that we can save this place in time?”
Hailey shook her head, sagging into her seat. “Not great.”
She’d just sold herself--and her boyfriend--out while trying. She was done.