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Samantha Messenger climbed into her Isuzu Trooper, pulled out of her condo complex, and hoped like crazy the cabin really was ready. Her contractors were very reliable, but she hadn't checked on the place since they'd called a couple days before and said the roof was finished.
June, July, and August found her cabins at nearly full capacity, booked months in advance. If not for the unexpected roof leakage, this one would have been, too.
Thank heaven for the leaky roof.
She drove toward the lake and tried to focus on all she had to do to get ready for Garrison. Trying not to think about the man proved futile.
For the hundredth time that morning, she told herself it was wrong, so wrong, to be happy Garrison was coming. The circumstances were tragic and heartbreaking. But the fact that he'd called her, wanted her help, wanted to see her...
But his call hadn't been about the two of them, nor had it been about the romance that never quite was. It had been about Aiden. Garrison obviously hadn't been thinking of her except as a friend who owned rental properties. She had to be careful not to read too much into it, or it would hurt so much more when he left.
And of course he would leave. A man like Garrison Kopp would be bored to tears in her tiny little New Hampshire town, living her tiny little New Hampshire life, and Aiden? The teenage boy would want nothing to do with this place, not after growing up in the chaos and busyness of New York.
Sure, Nutfield was a wonderful place—safe and secluded. But Garrison didn't long for safety like Sam did.
Garrison wasn't a hider. He'd never stay in Nutfield.
And she'd never be able to leave.
Which was why she was alone and always would be. And wasn't that a perfectly reasonable explanation for spending her life in solitude?
She needed to shake off silly thoughts would take her nowhere good. She wasn't alone. She was surrounded by friends and family who loved her. It should be enough. It was enough.
The narrow road that ringed this edge of Clearwater Lake was protected by a canopy created by trees along both sides. Cabins were nestled on small lots all around—wood-sided, painted, aluminum-sided, and log, they were all different shapes and sizes, most built decades before by families searching for an escape from their busy city lives. Those families had mostly held onto their lakeside cabins, enjoyed them with kids and grandkids and friends, passed them down to the next generation.
Investors had come along when the market dipped and the value of vacation homes plummeted. Samantha had bought her first when she was only twenty-four years old. Not even a decade later, she owned sixteen cabins out here, and she was hoping to buy another one or two in the off-season. Late spring, summer, and fall were the high seasons for renters. Most folks would wait until after foliage season to put their houses on the market so they could get one more good weekend out of the place before they had to say goodbye forever.
She hated to capitalize on other people's hardships, and she'd even tried to help a couple of families hold onto their homes. But repairs and routine maintenance were tough when you didn't live nearby. Frankly, it seemed most people felt free when they finally sold the cabins, which had turned from places of refuge to burdens of debt. Now, when a lake home came on the market, Sam looked at it as an opportunity to make a deal that benefitted both parties.
She turned into the driveway of the two-bedroom cabin, which sat a good half mile from the main road. This cabin was tiny, yes, but it was very secluded, with thick trees on three sides and the lake on the fourth. It would be a good place for Aiden to recover and for Garrison to try to reach his son. Maybe here, they could reconnect. If not here, then Sam didn't know where they could.
She parked her SUV and peered up at the roof. It looked perfect, as she'd known it would. This was one of the few cabins she hadn't updated yet. After purchasing it the winter before, she'd hoped to make a little money off it before she poured cash into it. Fortunately—aside from the roof—the place had been structurally sound.
The sight inside the front door brought a smile. She hadn't been here in a while, and she'd forgotten all the brown. The walls were covered in knotty pine paneling. The kitchen cabinets matched. The furniture had come with the house, and, with the wood tones, practically blended into the space. Even the floors were hardwood. The fireplace...that was a different story. It was spectacular. Flanked by tall windows, the stacked gray stone went all the way to the tip of the cathedral ceiling along the back wall. What would have been just rustic and woodsy was chic because of that fireplace. This winter, she'd make the rest of the little place match that one grand feature.
Every surface was covered with dust. After ensuring the electricity and plumbing were working properly—no reason they wouldn't be, but it never hurt to check after a big project like a new roof—she headed back to the car for her cleaning supplies. The place would be ready before Garrison and Aiden arrived, and with luck, she'd have time to make a run to the grocery store for them.
That wouldn't be too forward, would it? Buying them some supplies?
No, it was the right thing to do. She'd do it for Reagan or Brady, Nate or Marisa. Garrison was a friend, just like all the rest, and she'd support him however she could while he was in Nutfield. She knew what it meant to need a friend, so that's what she'd be. And she'd be satisfied with that.