by Ellie Hall
Ah. First mystery solved. Now I knew how he’d avoided me.
If it were anyone but Ben and Natalie, I’d find this whole thing incredibly creepy, but the two of them were good down to their bones. Whatever their intentions were, they weren’t trying to hurt me. But what were they up to?
I locked the office behind me and headed straight for the mess hall where I could see a light shining through the kitchen window. That would be Lisa the camp cook, no doubt. I walked in and smiled at her. “Hey, where can I find a screwdriver? I want to tighten the seat on my bike.”
“Oh, the toolshed behind the office has whatever you need, but I keep a basic toolbox in here. Check the mop closet, you’ll see it right on the shelf.”
“Thanks,” I said, walking toward the mop closet. She was still staring at me more than ‘making eye contact’ with me, but once we spent more time together, she’d see I was as down-to-earth as Natalie despite my fame.
I hurried back to the office with my screwdriver in hand, and after placing a quick Amazon order from the front desk computer, I spent the next several minutes loosening every single screw in the two office chairs until they were almost but not quite ready to fall out.
I was heading for the lake next, but I’d be making a detour to the shed first. I hadn’t noticed it yesterday attached to the back of the main office. It was a new addition, but I was betting that the key Natalie had given me for the office was probably a master. Sure enough, it opened the shed door too, and I pulled the cordless drill from the pegboard and gave it a whirr, smiling when it proved the battery was fully charged, but expecting nothing less. Ben and Natalie were going to be great camp owners.
Now off to manage more mischief.
By four o’clock, I was exhausted. I’d put everything into motion early this morning, and then spent the day planning and prepping with Lisa in the kitchen. Once she’d gotten over her initial shyness with me, a little praise had gone a long way and she’d proven to be a competent and skilled chef. She ordered her assistants around firmly but kindly, explaining that counselors would work in the kitchen this week, but next week as the first campers arrived, they’d begin rotating in for KP duty.
It was exactly how we’d done it in the old days, and I’d loved it. I’d even traded lifeguard shifts for KP supervision some nights because I preferred the bustle of the kitchen over breaking up water fights.
But I had one last meal to prep before I could take a break for the day. “Lisa, I noticed a picnic hamper in the mudroom at my cabin. You wouldn’t happen to have an extra one around here, would you?”
“Oh, sure. I’ll grab it for you. Going on a picnic tomorrow?”
“Putting something together for tonight. I’m going to raid the pantry if you don’t mind.”
“Go right ahead,” she said. “But I can’t believe you want to cook for yourself after spending all day in here. I never want to make dinner when I get home.”
“I don’t mind, really.”
She shrugged and fetched the basket for me, and I filled it with the things I needed from the pantry and fridge. “Thanks, Lisa. See you tomorrow!” I gave her a cheerful wave and headed out to put the last piece of my plan in place.
“Hey, Ben,” I said, poking my head into the office. “I have a surprise for you and Natalie. Meet me by the dock in an hour? And bring Juniper.”
“Uh, sure, but that’s getting awfully close to dinner.”
“Trust me.” I batted my eyelashes, and he rolled his eyes.
“All right. Get out of here, dork.” He shifted on his chair and frowned, then shifted again.
“Something wrong?” I asked sweetly.
“No, it’s just—nothing. We’ll meet you at the dock in an hour.”
I closed the door behind me, but instead of heading back to my cabin, I waited inside of Girls Cabin 1, the one closest to the office and watched until he left fifteen minutes later. As soon as he was out of sight, I darted into his office and hacked into his email one last time.
Hey Adam,
Nat and I wanted to use the hot tub after dinner tonight, around 6:30. Would you mind warming it up for us?
Thanks
Satisfied that it was as lowkey as Ben was, and that Adam wouldn’t find it a super weird request given that his was the only hot tub I’d spotted on the grounds so far, I hit send and hurried back to my cabin to execute the last phase of my plan.
“Hey, guys,” I said, grinning at Natalie and Ben as they walked down to meet me at the dock.
“What’s this?” Natalie asked, smiling as she took in the sight of me standing next to one of their new canoes and a picnic basket.
“I’ve been watching this place get busier and busier all day with the new counselors, and I have a feeling you won’t get any quiet time from now until Labor Day, so I figured I’d claim godmother privileges and sweep my goddaughter away while you get some time together. I’ve planned a mini-date for you. A late afternoon canoe ride on the lake complete with a canoe-friendly dinner I made for you. It’s not fancy, but it should taste pretty good while you’re out there drifting on the water.”
“Oh, Tabby Cat, you didn’t have to do that! You’re already doing us such a huge favor by being here this week.”
“Turns out I’m a full-service celebrity chef,” I said with a wink. “And honestly, you’ve done me a favor, bringing me out here and reminding me to reconnect with myself. So look,” I pointed, “I have the bike with the baby seat parked right there, and Juni and I are going to go back to my place where I have the funnest stuff planned for us. What do you think, June-June?” I said reaching for the baby who dove toward me, grinning. “Want to come to Tabby’s house?”
“House!” she announced.
“What do you think?” Natalie asked Ben, casting a covetous eye at the hamper and canoe.
“I mean, I don’t know…”
“House!” Juniper insisted.
“Just say yes and thank you,” I said.
Ben smiled. “Yes and thank you.”
“Have fun, you two lovebirds. You’ve earned it.” I whisked Juniper toward the bike. “Don’t forget your life vests!” I called, and they laughed since it was the constant counselor cry once camp was in session. Natalie was already slipping off her shoes and pushing the canoe in the water.
At the cabin, I unloaded Juniper and set her on the floor in the kitchen, showing her how to open the cabinets and pull out all the pots and lids her toddler heart desired to bang on. Then I went to work.
An hour later, right as the pasta water was boiling, gravel crunched outside. Calmly, I scooped up Juniper and settled her on my hip, throwing the front door open just as a soaking wet Ben lifted his hand to knock, an equally drenched Natalie beside him, and a dry Adam standing behind them looking furious.
My heart flipped at the sight of him so close for the first time in almost a decade. The crinkle lines around his eyes had deepened, and he had a faint five o’clock shadow he’d never been able to grow before. It made him look like a sexier version of the guy I’d known back then.
“You guys are right on time,” I said giving them my sunniest TV host smile.
“You did this,” Adam said, pointing at me.
“I did,” I admitted without an ounce of guilt. “Now who wants to explain to me what the heck you guys were thinking?
7
“You are one cold, calculating woman,” Adam said, as he sat on the sofa waiting for Ben and Natalie. I’d snuck a dry set of clothes for each of them down here earlier, and they were changing in my room.
“A cold woman wouldn’t have made sure they had a change of clothes or have a fresh dinner ready for everyone when they got here.” I kept my voice even as I salted the water and added the pasta then sliced butter into a warm skillet. I was glad for a reason to keep busy, or I might have spent all my time staring at Adam’s face, cataloguing the differences. The way his jaw looked firmer, and the new scar near his hairline.
“Fine. But you�
��re still calculating,” he grumbled, and when his voice sounded muffled, I glanced over to find Juniper honking his nose.
“I prefer strategic. I’m still not sure exactly what you guys were up to, but I can’t believe you thought you’d get away with it. Did you forget who won the Prank Wars three years in a row?”
“I told you both this wouldn’t work.” Natalie emerged from the bedroom, toweling her hair. “You guys are such idiots.”
“How’d you pull this off?” Ben asked me.
“Nat, why don’t you open a bottle of wine and pour a glass for everyone, and I’ll tell you the story while I work on the sauce.”
She fetched it from the fridge and took down four wineglasses, as familiar with this kitchen as she probably was her own.
“I thought I saw you diving off the new dock yesterday,” I told Adam.
Ben shot him an annoyed look.
“The bike wasn’t in front of her place. I thought it was clear,” Adam protested.
“I was sitting on the other dock.”
“No way you knew it was me from that distance.”
“You’re right. I didn’t. At first. But then yesterday, I decided to do some exploring on the new trail behind the big cabin, and guess who was sitting on his deck when I reached the end? So I had to ask myself, ‘Why are these three dummies going through so much trouble to keep Adam hidden when the plan is clearly to trot him out at some point?’” I waited, but no one contradicted me. I folded in the parmesan I’d grated earlier. “We all know the rule for prank wars.”
“Strike first, strike hard, no mercy,” Ben said.
“By the way, I figured out where these two dummies stole that from,” Natalie said. “It’s from the old Karate Kid movies from before we were even born, but I didn’t figure it out until Ben dragged me through watching the series reboot.”
“You loved it,” he retorted.
“I loved it,” she agreed, “but the whole series could have wrapped in three episodes if they had a little therapy. Maybe a lot for that Johnny guy.”
“She says that about every show,” Ben said.
“Because it’s true.” She leaned over and ruffled his hair.
“Anyway,” I said, “wherever it came from, the rule stands. So once I knew you were up to something, I figured it was important to remind you of the rules. While you guys were still snoozing this morning, I snuck over and poured the bubbles in Adam’s hot tub. I had to gamble he wouldn’t use it before tonight, then I put the rest of the plan in motion.”
I described almost every detail of my plans, until I got to drilling a couple of holes in their canoe which would cause it to leak slowly enough that they wouldn’t notice until they were too far from shore to do anything about it.
“The Great Sinking, Year Two,” Ben said. “That was the year we realized one of the canoes had a leak and sent you and Nat out in it.”
“Yeah. Told us we deserved an hour off from the kids and you’d keep an eye on them for us.” Nat delivered a light smack to his chest, then reached over and rubbed it absent-mindedly.
“There’s another canoe on order for you, by the way,” I told them. “It’ll be here before your campers are. And when I snuck into the office to order it online, I logged into your email and sent a message to Adam asking him to warm up the hot tub for you around six.”
“I knew as soon as the bubbles started pouring over the sides that it was you,” he said. “The Great Foam Disaster of Year One.”
That was the year he’d tricked one of the other first year counselors into using liquid dish soap instead of the powder in the dishwasher, and everyone on KP duty had to spend an extra hour mopping up the bubble explosion, including me.
“Yeah, it’s funny now that I’ve paid you back for it.”
Adam and Ben exchanged a look, and Adam shook his head. “She’s scary.”
“I warned you,” Natalie said, scooping up Juniper. “I’m sorry about these two. I told them it was a bad idea, but somehow they convinced me this was the best way to do it.”
“Do what?” I asked. None of them answered. I fished a strand of fettucine from the pot and nibbled the end of it to check for doneness, watching them as I chewed. “Someone want to tell me why you guys tried to pull the most elaborate prank on me ever to get me out here?”
Ben stared at the floor and Natalie busied herself pretending she was trying to pick something out of Juniper’s hair.
Adam pushed himself up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen.
“Well, Tabitha, it’s like this.” He leaned against the counter behind me, forcing me to turn and face him. “I’ve come to collect on our deal.”
I frowned at him. “Our deal?”
“Yeah, Tab. We’re almost thirty. It’s time for The Backup Plan.”
8
Ben and Natalie took their chicken alfredo to go, apologizing sheepishly but skedaddling with a vague excuse about heading up the trail while there was still a bit of daylight.
I pulled out a chair on my side of the table where Adam plated servings for each of us. “The backup plan was a joke.”
“It was a deal,” he corrected. “We sealed it with a kiss, which is more binding than a handshake deal.”
I swear it sounded different when he talked about it, like it was a capital B, capital P kind of Backup Plan, not the giggly deal two kids who thought forty was old made when they were half-drunk on kisses and summer.
“What’s this really about?” I asked him. “I know you didn’t show up here after not speaking for almost ten years to tell me I’m obligated to marry you.”
He twirled some noodles around his fork. “How about we eat this dinner you made and play catchup. Then we can take a walk down to the dock, and I’ll tell you why I’m really here.”
I stared at him, trying to figure out how we were supposed to “catch up” on nine years over a twenty-minute dinner. But whatever he wanted, he wasn’t ready to spit it out yet, and Adam had always been stubborn about doing things on his own time. I shrugged and picked up my fork. “Sure, let’s do that. So what have you been up to since you dumped me a decade ago?”
He choked on his wine. “Uh, maybe we ease into that? Let’s play Five Questions.”
We had played this with the new counselors every year on the first night. We’d make the first fire of the season, and everyone took a turn in the hot seat while the rest of the group got to ask them five questions to get to know them better.
“Sounds great. I already asked my first one.”
“Wow, okay, so we’re jumping in. Well, I’m a developer now. I try to protect or develop urban green spaces, buying up properties in decline and trying to revitalize them.”
“‘Flipping properties’ is an interesting take on that.” When he sent me a questioning glance, I explained, “That’s what Natalie said you do.”
He smiled. “She’s not wrong. But I guess she left it vague so you wouldn’t realize this is one of my properties.”
“Camp Oak Crest?” He nodded. “Wait, you own Camp Oak Crest now? You’re the silent investor Nat and Ben mentioned?” Camp Oak Crest had already been sliding toward shabby when I was a kid or my parents couldn’t have afforded it, but even at that, 150 acres would not come cheap. I made in the mid-six figure range, and there was no way I could have afforded it without a two-hundred-year mortgage.
“Yeah. I wanted people I could trust to run it, and a lawyer and a therapist with years of experience here couldn’t be more perfect. I knew they’d been itching to get away from DC.”
“How on earth did you afford this? Are you selling the other properties you develop to billionaires or something?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
My jaw dropped. “I’m not trying to be rude here, but you were always broker than the rest of us, and I’m trying to figure out how you got from there to here in no time flat.”
“Is it that surprising? I mean, look at you. You have an incredible career already and yo
u’re so young. I saw you in the Food & Drink feature on ‘Threats Under Thirty.’”
“That was a stupid title,” I mumbled and took another bite of pasta. Adam had been paying attention to my career? I’d wondered over the years if he’d ever come across me while he channel-surfed and what he thought if he did. But apparently he’d done more than that, paying attention to small features of me in niche magazines. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask one.”
“Fine. Question two: how did you become a baby tycoon when you couldn’t even afford the commissary snacks?”
“I was never poor. Just broke.”
“Same thing.”
“Not at all. Poor is a thing you can’t get out of, where no options are open to you, and the path you’re on is the path you’ll stay on because systems are working against you. Broke is a cash flow issue that resolves eventually. And no, I’m not trying to be cute or do a marketing job on my past.” He sighed and shifted in his chair, like it had suddenly become uncomfortable. “I come from money. A lot of it. I went to private school from elementary through college, and my family is so rich it’s kind of gross.”
This might be the second most shocking thing he’d ever said to me after, “This isn’t what I want,” before he walked away from me for the last time. What I thought was the last time.
“Wait. You went to UMass.” He’d worn a University of Massachusetts T-shirt around camp.
For the first time, I saw a hint of color heat his cheeks. “That was kind of my cover? It was less obnoxious than the truth.”
“Which is?”
“MIT?”
I gaped at him.
“Double major in engineering and business.”
“MIT. A genius tycoon.” It wasn’t sinking in. “Then why were you out here eating ramen and saving your paychecks like you were never going to see another one every summer?”