by Mona Ingram
A smaller dock sat off to the left. It was empty and his gaze went beyond, to a stand of trees near the water’s edge. Campsites nestled in among the trees and he found himself wishing he’d brought his camping gear. These were the most perfectly sited campsites he’d ever seen, at least in a commercial setting. A sprawling wooden building housed the office and a good-sized store. The front porch of the store was lined with flower boxes and appeared to be a spot for children to gather and eat ice cream. A cement block addition on the rear housed laundry and shower facilities. Memories of a happier time flooded over him, but he pushed them down and pulled into a parking spot beside the lodge.
He walked up a set of broad steps and paused on the verandah. It was like something out of another time, with an eclectic mix of chairs pulled up in conversational groupings. Maybe he’d been wrong about people passing quiet time overlooking the water. Two men who looked like they might be father and son were sitting quietly with a drink. Suddenly he wasn’t so eager to get to his room and unpack.
He walked into a large, open great room. An informal area served as reception and he was about to ring a bell when a tall young woman appeared from a back room. “Good afternoon sir. Welcome to Long Lake Fishing Lodge.” Her smile was warm.
“Good afternoon. I’d like to check in please. My name is Craig Hansen.”
“Yes Mr. Hansen, we’ve been expecting you.” She placed a registration card in front of him and he signed. “If you’ll be dining with us tonight I’d be happy to make a reservation for you.”
“Would it be all right if I play that by ear? I’ve just had lunch in town.”
“Certainly sir. You can call from your room or come back to see me and I’ll be happy to take care of it.”
“Thank you. You know, when I first drove in all I could think about was getting to my room and unpacking, but I’ve changed my mind. Could you have someone bring me a beer out on the verandah?”
She glanced toward the outside. “Inviting, isn’t it. Any particular kind of beer?”
“I prefer Heineken but anything would be good.” He glanced at her name tag. “Thank you, Brooke.”
He sauntered outside and chose a high backed rocking chair. Most of the furniture was large and he gave silent thanks that he’d found something to accommodate his six foot four inch frame.
A beer was placed on the low table beside his chair. He thanked the server and poured. Clouds threatened the sun and a breeze had kicked up but he didn’t care; if this wasn’t heaven, it was close. He took a long, cold swallow and thought back on what he knew about the Lodge.
There was no lack of information about the Lodge and fishing in the area, but very little about the people behind the operation. His assistant had researched it for him and had learned that Jamie Nicholson inherited the Lodge at the age of eighteen when his parents died in a train accident while travelling in Asia. He’d managed with some administrative help until the age of twenty one and had been running it alone ever since. Doing a good job too, until the latest economic downturn reduced the portfolios of many of the Lodge’s regular clients.
He checked out the building without being too obvious. They appeared to have a good maintenance crew and for some reason that pleased him. Too many family businesses were falling into disrepair.
He was taking his second swallow of beer when the sound of a small aircraft broke into his thoughts. He rose, went to the railing and looked into the sky. It must be circling because it was out of sight but he could hear it coming around.
There it was! Coming in from the south end of the lake, just over the treetops. The pilot held the aircraft about thirty feet above the water and he sensed that he was about to touch down when a gust of wind caught one wingtip. It dipped to one side for a fraction of a second before the pilot regained control and brought it down for a smooth landing in front of the Lodge.
For the second time today he found that he’d been holding his breath. Shaken, he went back to his chair and watched the Beaver taxi up to the small dock.
The door opened on the pilot’s side and a figure emerged, stepped lightly down onto the float and hopped onto the deck, one hand on the wing strut. It was the woman from this morning; the one with the bear spray. A gust of wind caught her long sun-streaked hair and she brushed it back from her face. He could see the laughter in her eyes from here, and for an almost uncontrollable moment he wanted to be down there on the deck with her, sharing her enthusiasm. A dog followed her out of the cockpit and onto the deck, its coat a pale golden colour in the afternoon sun.
Two men, obviously fishermen, emerged through the passenger door. They looked toward the two-storey buildings and held up their catch. Silvery scales glistened in the sunlight and the men exchanged a few words with the woman, shook her hand and then trudged off, proudly showing their catch to several children who came running from the beach. He wondered idly if the chef would be asked to cook fish tonight, then laughed to himself. It was probably a rarity when the chef wasn’t asked to cook fish.
He watched the woman tie down the Beaver. The dog had trotted to the shore and was lapping up lake water. She patted the wing of the aircraft the way one would stroke a favourite pet and walked toward the lodge, long legs encased in slim, faded jeans.
He set down the beer bottle, surprised to see that it was empty. He must have finished it while watching her. As she ran up the steps his feet moved forward of their own accord and he extended his hand. “Hi, that was quite a landing.” What was he doing?
She stopped in mid-stride and turned to look at him. Something flared behind her eyes for a fraction of a second and he wondered if she recognized him. Another gust of wind caught her hair and she tucked it impatiently behind her ear. She wore no makeup and appeared to be free of artifice of any kind. Hazel eyes that were predominantly green smiled at him and all rational thought fled from his mind.
“Thanks. It was a bit breezy out there.” She extended her hand. “Welcome to Long Lake. I’m Jamie Nicholson.”
He shook her hand. It was surprisingly small and feminine. “You’re Jamie Nicholson?”
She laughed. “You were expecting a man?”
He nodded.
“Happens a lot. And you are?”
“Craig Hansen. I just checked in.”
Now he could see the recognition in her eyes. “Ah, Mr. Hansen.” She gestured back toward the Beaver. “I hope that little flying exhibition hasn’t put you off. I can fly you into a lot of lovely spots that aren’t accessible by road.”
He sucked in a breath of air and looked at the floatplane. “I don’t know...”
She picked up on his ambivalence. “You don’t have to decide now, but I’ll make myself available any time you’d like to go out.”
She made a move toward the inside of the lodge, but he didn’t want her to go. “Do you have time for a beer?” He motioned to the empty bottle. “I was just about to have another one.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.” She took a quick look inside the lodge. “Looks like all the check-ins arrived at once today. I should help Brooke.”
“What about dinner? Surely you take time for dinner.”
A smile lit up her face. “That’s a great idea. Let’s meet in the dining room at six, shall we?”
“It’s a date.” Had he really said that? He was acting like a clumsy teenager. Normally he ate much later and he wasn’t the slightest bit hungry but it didn’t matter. He watched her walk into the great room of the lodge and for the first time in two years he thought that life might be worth living after all.
* * *
Jamie looked at Brooke as the last of the guests drifted away. “They seem like a good bunch” she said, “although we might have to keep an eye on that older gentleman and his wife.”
Brooke nodded. “I thought so too. Serious drinkers, if I’m not mistaken.”
Jamie sorted through the registration cards. “I see Billy’s here. How was he?”
“He’s really rather sweet. Seem
ed almost shy.”
“Billy? Shy?” Jamie fingered the card. “Maybe it’s a new technique.”
“Well, he seemed happy to be here. I saw you talking to Craig Hansen.” She watched her boss carefully. “What did you think of him?”
Jamie felt a blush creeping up into her face. “He seems nice enough. Not sure if he’ll want to go up in the Beaver, though.” Her stomach rumbled audibly. “But I’ll see if I can change his mind. I’m having dinner with him tonight.”
Brooke’s eyes widened fractionally. “Good. You need to eat.”
“He’s kind of good looking, don’t you think?” Her gaze went to the verandah, where he was still sitting. “In a rumpled, outdoorsy way, I mean.”
Brooke fought to keep a straight face. Jamie never noticed men, and the lodge attracted its share of good looking specimens. “He has nice eyes, but there’s something about him. He seems sad.”
“You noticed.” Jamie tore her gaze away from the verandah. “But he has a killer smile, when he chooses to use it.” She had to stop thinking like this. She couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings get tangled up with business.
“What are you going to wear for dinner?” Brooke looked her boss up and down. “My things won’t fit you thanks to my height, but I can help you accessorize.”
“I hadn’t even thought.” Jamie tried to recall what she had that would be suitable. “Can I get away with a plain scoop-necked top and a long skirt?”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “What time are you getting ready?”
“About a quarter to six. We’re eating at six.”
“That’s when the families eat! What are you thinking? He’s from the city, Jamie. He’s probably used to eating around eight...maybe later.”
Jamie tossed her head. “Too late now. Besides, I’m hungry.”
“Fair enough, but I’ll see you in your room around a quarter to.”
* * *
Brooke appeared at Jamie’s door with an armful of accessories. Between them they decided on a delicate fringed wrap which they tied around Jamie’s slender hips. Folded on an angle, the point hung down, lending a gypsy feel to the outfit. Brooke placed a delicate brass filigree necklace around her neck and stood back to admire.
“Okay, one more thing,” she said and pulled Jamie’s long sun-streaked hair back on one side with a large comb. “There.” She turned her around to face the full-length mirror. “Have a look at yourself.”
Jamie scarcely recognized the woman in the mirror. “I look good,” she said simply. “How did you do it?”
Brooke laughed. “My mother used to tell me I was born to accessorize. I’ve always had a knack for it.”
“With your taste, you should open a store.”
Brooke stood back to admire her creation. “Speaking of stores, I’d like to talk to you about opening a store in the Lodge. I have a few ideas, but now isn’t the time.”
Jamie studied her office manager for a moment. Behind the beautiful face and figure was a sharp mind. She’d only been with the lodge since the May long weekend and had proven herself many times. “Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “Let’s get together in the next day or two.”
“I’ll remind you.” Brooke herded her out the door. “Have fun tonight.”
Chapter Three
Jamie was glad she’d taken extra care with her outfit when she saw the look on Craig’s face. He’d somehow managed to snag the best table in the dining room and stood up when she entered. He waved away the server and seated her expertly, pushing the chair firmly against the back of her legs, the way she liked it.
“You’ve done that a few times before,” she said, smiling at him. He’d changed into a crisp white shirt and navy slacks.
“I worked as a waiter in Banff for three summers while I was putting myself through college.”
She glanced around at the dining room, which was already filling up. “I can’t begin to imagine the numbers they must serve in those big hotels every night.” She gave a little shudder. “Leeza and I were talking this morning about how the students are surprised when they’re expected to work.”
“Leeza?”
“Sorry. Leeza is our chef. She doesn’t look like the average chef, but she’s excellent.”
“I’d like to meet her.” He looked up as their server appeared, then turned his attention back to Jamie. “Are you going to have a drink?”
“I think so.” She smiled at the server. “Hello, André. I think I’ll have a glass of red wine. You choose something for me, please.”
The server turned to Craig. “And for you, Sir?”
“I’d like a Scotch, please. Chivas, if you have it.”
“Yes Sir, we do. I’ll be right back.”
He’d been reading the menu when she arrived but he set it aside and sat back casually. Contrasted against the white of his shirt, his tan looked even darker than before. Blue eyes studied her and an amused smile played around his lips.
“I saw you this morning,” he said finally.
“You did?” She looked around, not understanding what he meant.
“On the road. You stopped to rescue that fellow who was about to be mauled by a grizzly.”
She nodded. “The car behind him. That was you.”
“That was me.” He looked up as their drinks were delivered. “Thank you, André.” He held up his glass and clinked it against hers. “He’s staying here, you know. I saw him this afternoon.”
“Then I’m doubly glad I interfered.” The words were out before she could stop them. She clapped a hand over her mouth, unaware that he was also laughing. “I’m sorry. That didn’t sound very gracious.”
“It was perfect.” He was still smiling. “He really should have known better.”
“No kidding,” she murmured. She picked up a menu, then glanced over at him. “Brooke told me that six o’clock was ridiculously early for dinner. She said you probably eat around eight, but I was so hungry I wasn’t thinking straight. I hope you’ll forgive me.” She knew exactly what was on the menu, but she was nervous. And she really was hungry.
“I’m just happy that you agreed to join me. The time doesn’t matter. What’s good?”
“It’s all good but I usually have a steak and salad.” She lifted her wine glass. “One is my limit, so I make it last through dinner.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have, too, but no wine.” He looked at his glass of Scotch. “This and the beer I had this afternoon are more than I’ve had in a long time.” He stared into the amber liquid. “I went a bit overboard on the drinking a couple of years ago. Thankfully it didn’t last long, but as they say it wasn’t pretty.”
“It happens. We see a lot of odd behaviour here. People act differently when they’re away from home. I’ve never understood why, but they do.” She gave her head a quick shake. “Why are we having this depressing conversation?”
“My fault, I guess.” He looked out over the lake and his gaze finally came to rest on the Beaver. “Do you mind if I ask you why you learned to fly? Was it something you always wanted to do?”
Jamie had been told that she came alive when she talked about flying and tonight was no exception; she found herself eager to share the reasons with the man who sat across from her.
“I was always pestering my Dad to go up with him when I was smaller. He promised to let me get my license as soon as I was old enough.” He was watching her quietly and she decided to get the hard part over with. “Mom and Dad were killed in an accident when they were holidaying in Asia.” It was a relief to have that out of the way. “I’d already been taking flying lessons for six months by then and I got my license the next year. I’ve been flying ever since.”
“I’m no expert, but the way you handled that plane today...” he shook his head. “You look pretty good to me. Ah, here are our steaks.”
For some reason his compliment pleased her. She knew she was a good pilot, but coming from someone who might be afraid to fly, it meant a lot.
As they ate, the conversation turned to talk of fishing. He inquired about fly fishermen in the area and she assured him that there were a few locals who were regarded as experts. She hadn’t contacted any of them in case he preferred to make his own arrangements, but she was fairly sure that they’d be delighted to be in any film made by the famous Craig Hansen.
The server removed their plates and inquired if they would like dessert.
“No thanks, André.” Jamie deferred to Craig. “How about you?”
He patted his stomach. “No thanks.” A family got up from the adjoining table and she noticed the way his eyes kept returning to the young boy. “But what I would like is coffee down by the lake. I noticed the chairs down by the water when I arrived and I think the weather is co-operating. That storm that was threatening earlier seems to have passed us by.” He turned to her. “Will you join me?”
“Sounds great.” She started to rise and he hurried around to pull out her chair. “I wasn’t sure about those chairs when I bought them this spring, but they’ve been popular.” The brightly coloured plastic Adirondack chairs added splashes of colour to the grounds and were easy to keep clean. “We used to have the traditional white wooden ones, but it got so we were spending too much time sanding and repainting them every year.” She shrugged. “It’s all labour, and it’s getting expensive.”
Goldie raised her head when they appeared on the verandah and her tail thumped against the floor.
“Okay, you can come.” Jamie shot a quick glance at Craig. “You don’t mind, do you? You’re not allergic, or anything?”
The dog had inserted herself between Jamie and Craig and he touched the top of the dog’s head. “No, I like dogs. This one seems devoted to you.”
They sauntered toward the water’s edge. “She just appeared here one day, about a year and a half ago. She was in bad shape; skin and bones mostly. She either got lost, or some campers put her out to fend for herself.” She looked affectionately at the dog. “We were going to call her Lucky, but that seemed too corny. So thanks to her breed she became Goldie and she’s been here ever since.”