Dockside at Willow Lake. Сьюзен Виггс

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СКАЧАТЬ How’d you get so smart?”

      “I was born that way,” she said.

      “Seems like you know everyone in town,” Shane remarked.

      “That was my favorite part of being mayor—meeting so many people.”

      Shane looked back over his shoulder at Bo. “I don’t know why he hasn’t been fired from the team.”

      “Because he’s good.” Nina knew Bo Crutcher had been cut from other teams thanks to his party-animal ways. The Can-Am League was pretty much his last chance. “When you’re good at something, people tend to overlook a lot of other flaws. For a while, anyway. Eventually, though, they catch up with you.”

      The sound of boyish laughter carried across the water, catching Nina’s attention. She immediately recognized Greg Bellamy and his son, Max, launching a canoe.

      Every unattached woman in town recognized Greg Bellamy, the ultimate in recently divorced guys. He was ridiculously handsome in a white-teeth, sparkling-eyes, broad-shouldered, six-feet-something way. For a long time, Nina had had a secret crush on him. He wasn’t for her, though. He came with too much baggage in the form of two kids. Nina knew and liked Max and Daisy, but she kept her distance. She had finally reached a place in her life where she could just be by herself. Taking on another woman’s children was not in her plans.

      Besides, Greg wasn’t interested. When he first moved to town last winter, she’d invited him to coffee but he turned her down. Nina reminded herself of this when someone else joined Greg and Max—a woman in breezy white capri pants and a lime-green sweater. She appeared to be about eight feet tall and very blond. Although she wasn’t close enough to see, Nina knew she was attractive. That was the only type Greg Bellamy seemed to favor. Italian-American women under five foot two, known for their fiery tempers, cropped hair and lack of fashion sense, didn’t appear to interest him.

      Resolutely pulling her attention from Greg Bellamy, Nina led the way to the boat shed where she kept her kayak. She’d had the kayak for years because she loved being on the water. Willow Lake—the Jewel of Avalon, as it was known in chamber of commerce brochures—was ten miles long, fed by the Schuyler River and bordered by the wooded rise of the Catskills. One end of the lake faced the town of Avalon and was fringed by the popular city park, which Nina had been instrumental in funding when she was in office. Farther along the lakeshore were summer homes and the occasional bed-and-breakfast hideaway. Privately owned property on the lakeshore was exceedingly rare, since the land was now part of the Catskills Forest Preserve. The few places that had been built before the preserve stood like storybook settings from another time. In the shape of a long, curved finger, crooked as though beckoning, the lake stretched deep into a pristine wilderness. At its northernmost reaches nestled a place called Camp Kioga. The property had been in the Bellamy family for generations. Of course it had. Sometimes, it seemed to Nina, the Bellamys owned half the county. The camp had recently reopened as a family resort. At summer’s end, it would be the setting for a much-anticipated wedding.

      As she and Shane brought the kayak from its berth in the boat shed, she felt a surge of nostalgia. She had bought the two-man kayak years ago at the annual Rotary auction. It was perfect for her and Sonnet. Remembering those rare summer days when she stole time from work to go paddling on the lake with her daughter created a pang of longing so unexpected that Nina caught her breath.

      “Something the matter?” Shane asked.

      “I’m fine,” she said. “Just excited about getting out on the water again.”

      He went to his car to get his gear. While Nina launched the kayak at the dock, she tracked the progress of Greg Bellamy’s canoe. He and his boy, Max, paddled in tandem while the blonde sat like a Nordic princess in the middle. Wasn’t she bored? What fun was it to just sit there, keeping every hair in place, white pants unwrinkled?

      Nina wondered who the woman was. Thanks to the upcoming Bellamy family wedding, there had been lots of visitors to town and to Camp Kioga—event planners, florists, caterers, decorators. The bride-to-be was Greg’s niece, Olivia. Perhaps the Nordic princess was going to be his wedding date.

      Since she came from a huge family, Nina was no stranger to weddings. But of course, she’d never been a bride. Maybe now that she was truly on her own, she would get married. Turning away from the scene on the lake, she glanced at Shane Gilmore, returning from the parking lot. Then again, she thought, maybe not.

      He had geared up for kayaking in a crash helmet and float coat, a protective spray skirt that circled his waist like a floppy tutu, a VHF radio and amphibious shoes.

      “Well, look at you,” she said. Fortunately, serving as mayor had taught her to be diplomatic.

      “Thanks,” he said, preening in his gear. “I got everything at the preseason sale at the Sport Haus.”

      “Lucky you,” murmured Nina. “You probably won’t need the helmet and skirt today. Those are usually only needed for extreme whitewater kayaking.”

      He disregarded her advice and eased into his seat while she held the boat steady. “Ready?” he said, banging the fiberglass hull against the dock as he settled in.

      “Not quite,” she said, and picked up the paddles. “We don’t want to be without these.”

      “Dang,” he said, “I feel like this is going to tip over any second.”

      “It won’t,” she said. “I had Sonnet in this when she was five years old. In good weather, there’s no safer way to be on the water.”

      He clutched at the side of the dock as Nina got in. She told herself not to be so critical of this guy. He was the bank president. He was educated and good-looking. He said things like, “Do you know how long I’ve waited to ask you out?”

      She showed him how the rudder worked and demonstrated a simple paddling technique. So what if he was a dork? So what if he was wearing a crash helmet and spray skirt? There was something to be said for exercising caution.

      Besides, she could tell he was enjoying their outing. Once they paddled away from shore and glided across the smooth surface of Willow Lake, he relaxed visibly. This was the magic and beauty of being on the water, Nina reflected. This is why the lakes of upstate New York were so legendary, having been sought after by harried city dwellers ever since there was a city. The water was dotted with catboats with sails like angels’ wings, other kayaks, canoes and rowboats of all sorts. The weeping hills, veiled by springs and waterfalls, were reflected in the glassy surface of the lake. Paddling across the sun-dappled lake was like being in an Impressionist painting, part of a peaceful and colorful tableau.

      “Let’s go over here,” she suggested, indicating with her paddle. “I want to take a look at the Inn at Willow Lake—my new project.”

      A beat of hesitation pulsed between them. “It’s kind of far,” he said. “Clear across the lake.”

      “We can be there in just a few minutes.” She tried not to feel annoyed by his hesitation. The Inn at Willow Lake was going to be her life. As bank president, Shane was one of the few people who was privy to that dream. The inn had gone into foreclosure and the bank now held the title. Thanks to Mr. Bailey, the asset manager, Nina had been given the management contract for the place. She would oversee its reopening and operation. If she did a good job, if things went as planned, she’d qualify for a small business loan and buy the place for herself. That was what she wanted. It was something she dreamed of doing all her life.

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