by Shay Savage
Needless to say, it hit me a little hard.
Despite his protests that it had nothing to do with me or the sex, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was so bad in bed, I actually turned a man gay. I knew that wasn’t true, but damn—talk about timing! He moved to Philadelphia right after graduation, and I never heard from him again. After that, I had a few dates but never anything serious. In fact, last night was the first “successful” date I’d had since high school.
“It wasn’t a date,” I remind myself. I glance at the laptop screen. “I don’t know this guy. I can’t even figure out what his family’s business is. It can’t just be that club and maple trees. Clearly his family is into all kinds of stuff, which means all kinds of money. How many times did Aunt Ginny warn me about people with money?”
Vee doesn’t provide a number, but I bet she remembers the conversations.
Aunt Ginny led a modest life. The antique business paid the bills and allowed us to rent a condo at Deep Creek twice a year—once in the summer and once in the winter. She worked hard for what we had and expected me to contribute as soon as I was old enough to earn a wage outside of the household. She believed people with a lot of money tended to spend it on lavish things that “no one in their right mind needs” and decadence was “the pathway to misery.”
She was never particularly forthcoming as to why money equaled misery, but she did beat it into my head from a very young age, and I tend to agree with her. The people in our hometown were moderate people with moderate views and all in the same, roughly middle-class bracket. Of course, that also means I’ve never really known anyone with a lot of money.
My phone dings, and my heart stops. I glance down, afraid to pick up the phone at first. Considering I haven’t had a text from anyone in weeks, I already know it’s a text from Nate.
Nate O: Good morning, Cherry. I hope you slept well.
“Nate-O.” I can’t help but laugh, even in my slightly hungover state. It just sounds funny. I collect myself and pick up the phone, typing quickly.
I did, thank you. My head is still recovering from the martinis though. I should have stopped earlier. Lol!
I tense as I wait for his response. It takes a while before it comes through.
Nate O: I take full responsibility for any ill effects you may be suffering this morning. I would send a good hangover-style breakfast to your door if I knew your address. Alas, only the cab driver knows for sure.
I bite my lip, holding in the laughter, then frown. How much would breakfast sent to your door cost anyway? Rather extravagant for the morning after a non-date.
I think that would be a bit much, yes.
He doesn’t respond right away, and I hope he doesn’t think my last comment was rude or that I intended to blow him off.
“You are being ridiculous,” I remind myself.
Forcing myself to put the phone down, I head to the kitchen to make some hangover food myself. Eggs and toast are easy enough, and I round out breakfast with coffee and more water. By the time I’ve finished it, I feel a lot better, and my phone dings again.
Nate O: I can only hope I have the opportunity in the future.
“Oh, do you now?” I’m smiling again. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t seem to help myself. I type out a quick response.
Are you saying you want to get me drunk again?
His response is a quick one.
Nate O: Did I say that? How horrible of me. ;)
I laugh.
I’m sure it was an autocorrect accident.
Nate O: Of course it was.
I debate my response for a moment. Despite my reservations, the flirty banter is fun, and I don’t want it to end. Even if he is rich, I haven’t felt this excited about talking to someone in a long time, maybe ever.
As I try to decide what to write, another message comes through.
Nate O: My apologies, Cherry, but I have some business to attend to. If you will be available later this evening, I’d like to call you.
How proper!
I bite my lip and keep my response simple.
I should be around.
Nate O: Glorious. I’ll call you around 8.
I glance at the clock. It’s just a little after nine, and eight o’clock seems very far away.
Pulling my laptop closer, I check out the county park’s job opportunities website and find the one Nate spoke of the night before—collecting data on the maple trees to prepare for the upcoming maple sap tapping in the early spring. According to the job description, I am qualified. Of course, anyone who can use a measuring tool and knows how to count would be a viable candidate.
I close the laptop with a huff, still unsure how I feel about Nate’s offer to help.
After sitting at the table for a while, replaying my conversation with Nate from the night before, I finally get up and take a shower. When I’m dressed and fed again, I stand in the middle of the living room with no idea what to do with myself. I know I can’t just hang out in my apartment, waiting for eight o’clock to roll around. I’ll drive myself crazy, and I’m already thinking about him far too much.
Maybe I should check out this maple forest. If I do end up with an interview, it would be good to have at least some basic knowledge of the area. I could look for any signs of trees in distress and get an idea of just how big an operation this maple syrup business is.
I grab my backpack and fill it with a water bottle and a couple of energy bars, yank on my jacket, and head out the door.
“Hello there, Cherry!” Jessie is out in the hallway, hauling groceries in reusable bags.
“Good morning, Jessie! Let me help you with those!” I grab one of the bags so she can get her apartment door unlocked.
“You are a dear, aren’t you?” Jessie throws the door open, and I follow her inside. “I don’t suppose you have a minute to help me get the rest out of the car?”
“Of course I do. Glad to help.”
“What are you up to this fine day?” Jessie asks. “I always do my grocery shopping early on Sundays while all the old biddies are at church. The lines are so much shorter, and I don’t have to fight over the best apples. Do you like apples, hunny?”
“Sure,” I reply. “Peaches are my favorite though.”
“Oh, peaches! When I was a girl, I lived in Georgia, just south of Atlanta. Peaches everywhere, and they were so sweet! I think I tired of them though. Once my family moved up north here, I fell in love with the apples and never looked back. There’s an apple orchard not too far from town where you can pick your own in the fall.”
“That sounds nice! I was actually going to head out to the woods for a hike today.”
“It’s a beautiful day for it! Feels like spring already. I guess that fat groundhog finally got something right!” Jessie laughs loudly as she shoves groceries into her refrigerator, then quickly turns to me. “I don’t really believe any of that. I’m not a doddering old fool or anything.”
“The thought never crossed my mind!” I smile.
“Oh, good. I know I babble on a bit, but that’s just how I am.” She looks at me a little more closely. “Are you all right, hunny?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You look a little pale.”
“Well, I was up late last night.”
“That’s probably it. I have some multivitamins if you want some.” She starts to rummage through a cabinet, pulling out bottles with bright yellow labels. “This one’s good, but it doesn’t have iron in it. If I take this one, I have to take an iron pill, too.”
“I’m fine, really,” I say again. “You don’t need to go through all the trouble.”
“No trouble at all!” She fills a glass of water, hands me a couple of supplements, and then places her hands on her hips until I swallow them. She smiles broadly. “That’ll do it!”
As she replaces the bottles, there is a brief moment of silence. I decide to jump in before she has a chance to say anything else.
“Do you kno
w Nate Orso?” I ask.
“Do I know Nate Orso?” Jessie laughs. “I certainly know who he is, but I’ve never met him or anything.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I went to the Big O last night and met him there.”
“Oh, did you now? Take this, then.” She hands me two more pills.
“What is it?”
“Milk thistle. It will help with that hangover.”
“Oh! Um, okay.” Deciding it easier to just give in, I take the pills with the remainder of the water. “I did have a bit of a headache earlier, but I’m good now.”
“Those will make you even better. They’re great for your liver. Next time, come get a couple before you go out.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” I swallow hard and try to keep my tone casual. “So, yeah…I met Nate last night. He seems pretty nice, and his family seems very well connected.”
“Oh yes, they are.” Jessie chews her lip for a moment. “Poor guy. That family has been through so much loss.”
“What loss?” I ask.
“Oh, that’s right!” Jessie snaps her fingers. “I keep forgetting you’re new.”
“Just on my second week here,” I say.
“It was about a year ago,” Jessie says, leaning in close to me and lowering her voice, “when his brother’s body was found in the woods. Murdered. No one’s been caught. And then his father! Oh, my lord, it’s just too much.”
“His brother was murdered?” Why wasn’t that tidbit in any of the newspaper articles?
“Mm-hmm.” Jessie shakes her head. “The whole of the East Side was at the funeral. All the flags lowered for a month and everything. And all of this after those kids grew up without a mother.”
My head is spinning a little. How did I sit with him all evening and never hear anything about that?
“He said something about his mother last night.”
“Died on her way home from the hospital,” Jessie says, placing her hand over her heart. “That family is full of all the tragedies money can’t fix.”
“They have a lot of money, huh?”
“Most all of it, I think.” Jessie laughs.
“So, what do they actually do?” I ask. “I mean, I see they do a lot of charity work, and I know he owns that club, but what is the family business?”
“Oh, you know…” Jessie trails off as she puts the milk thistle bottle back on the shelf and then begins to rearrange all the bottles beside it. “Real estate, maple syrup…a lot of stuff. I don’t gossip about such things.”
“Their business is gossip?”
“It’s always best not to talk about other people,” Jessie says. “I might babble, but I don’t gossip. Did you know that there is a gossiping club over on the West Side? Those people!”
“They have a club that actually calls itself that?”
“They say it’s a book club,” she says, “but everyone knows what it’s really for. I’m pretty sure half of them haven’t read a book in years!”
I consider telling her that a lot of “book clubs” have nothing to do with books—or gossip—but I don’t want to be rude.
“I should probably get going,” I say instead.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Here you are taking time out to help me, and I’m keeping you from the day with all my yammering! You have yourself a wonderful hike.”
“Thank you! I’m sure I will.”
I step back into the hallway, and as I’m about to head outside, Jessie calls to me.
“Cherry, hunny?”
“Yes?” I tilt my head, wondering why she looks so pensive.
“I’m not your mom,” she says, looking down at her hands, “and I’d never tell you who to hang out with or how to run your life, but…”
“But?”
“Just be careful, hunny. You’re like a babe in the woods, and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Chapter 8—Maples
I leave my phone in the car, not wanting to chance any sort of disturbance. I need a little time to just be by myself and do a little communing with nature. Though it’s a Sunday, very few people seem out and about as I walk to the trailhead and start the trek up a steep hill.
The trees are beautiful.
The trail is well-maintained with short logs embedded into the path, allowing me to keep my footing a little easier as I head uphill and deeper into the forest. At the top of the hill, the trail splits. A small wooden post displays the length of the trail in either direction, and I choose the longer option.
For a while, I don’t think of anything at all. I absorb the cool, moist air through my skin and lungs, feel the earth beneath my feet, and listen to the crackling of dry leaves. Looking around, I see a few squirrels and birds but nothing any larger than those. I do see evidence of white-tailed deer and coyotes in the area, but they camouflage well and are hard to see.
“Aunt Ginny would have loved it here,” I murmur.
I feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes. It’s not that I haven’t thought about Aunt Ginny, but I have avoided thinking about losing her. My chest tightens, and I swallow past the lump forming in my throat, but I can’t stop the tears from falling.
I haven’t cried since my first day here. I guess I’m overdue.
Moving here—to Cascade Falls—allowed me to pretend she was back at home, rummaging through her antiques and playing bridge on Saturday afternoons, but my heart still knows she’s gone. If she were still alive, I’d be in the antique shop with her and not in this town, digging further into the documents I found after her funeral.
I take a long, deep breath. The cool air dries the tears on my cheeks, and I focus once again on the beauty of the nature around me.
I stand just off the trail, looking up at a huge sugar maple—one of the biggest I’ve ever seen. All around it are smaller maples and a few birches, but they all reach high into the sky. In a few weeks, their new leaves will come out, and the sun won’t be able to touch the forest floor.
I try to imagine working in a place like this, walking all around, counting maples and measuring the diameter of their trunks. Challenging it was not, but it would be a botany-related job, and that could be good for me later. I do love it out here.
Sitting down with my back against the wide trunk, I take a long, deep breath, enjoying the scent and the silence of the wilderness. I run my hand over one of the maple’s protruding roots, enjoying the bumpy texture on my palm, and try to remember everything I already know about maple trees.
I start with the basics. Maples are deciduous with palmate leaves that tend to have some of the most brilliant fall colors. They flower early and help with honeybee populations. I remember trying to catch their helicopter-like seeds as they fell in the summer months of my childhood. With their subterranean roots, they pull water from far below the ground to the top layers of soil, providing more moisture for nearby plants.
Sugar maple sap has a high sugar content, and the trees are some of the best for making maple syrup. When I look around, I see small, dark circles on the trunks of many of the trees, showing those that have been tapped for sap in previous years. A handful of trees still have small metal buckets attached to their trunks.
I rub my lower lip with my teeth, realizing that I have reached the extent of my knowledge when it comes to sugar maples and maple syrup production. Hopefully, that will be enough to land me the job.
With Nate’s help.
My brow creases as I consider this. Now that I’m sober, I’m not sure I want his help in finding a job. I don’t want to be indebted to someone I barely know. At least it would be a job working for the county, and he doesn’t own the actual forestry service.
What all does he own?
And what was with Jessie’s warning? She’d refused to elaborate as to why she thought I needed to be wary, but I’m sure it’s more than just the usual “be careful with men” kind of cautioning.
I shiver though I’m not sure if the cause is my thoughts or the fa
ct that the sun is now hidden by clouds, and the temperature under the bare trees is beginning to drop. A light rain begins to fall, so I head back to my car.
Deciding to take a slightly different route home, I pass by the Winter Lodge I keep hearing about and stop to check it out. I find a parking spot in the visitor’s section and head to the front doors.
The lobby area is huge with a pair of grand staircases spiraling up to the second level. A giant wooden carving of a grizzly bear stands on one side of the doors and a similar carving of a wolf on the other side. Aside from the reception desk, I see a gift shop, an arcade, and a coffee shop. Coffee sounds pretty good, so I stop in and order a latte.
The place is pretty packed, but I find a small table in the corner and sit, watching the tourists try to keep up with their rambunctious children.
As I sip the latte, a woman in a lodge uniform walks up and leans toward me, her curly ponytail flopping over her shoulder as she smiles warmly.
“Do you mind if I join you?” the woman asks. “I’m just on my break, so I’d only be a few minutes.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks so much! I’ve been on my feet for hours!” She sits with a groan and holds her legs out, flexing her ankles. Despite the groan, she’s all smiles as she turns to me and offers a friendly hand. “I’m Cher.”
“Hi, Cher,” I say, taking her hand briefly and smiling back. “I’m Cherry.”
“Ha!” Her smile broadens. “I’m Cher with a shh, and you’re Cher like a cherub!”
“I can’t argue with that!” I laugh along with her.
“Are you visiting with your family?” Cher asks.
“Oh, no, I’m not a tourist,” I say. “I’m just new in town and thought I’d check the place out.”
“Oh really?” Her head bobs up and down as she stares at her feet. The air of friendliness is still there but muted. “Where do you live?”