Chapter 2
It turnedout that Camp Firefly Falls, the rustic-luxury adult re-boot version, was a fantastic place to get totally smashed.
There were Silver Fox shots on arrival, served by a handsome young man with very broad shoulders. The drink was mostly tequila with a silvery ribbon of lemon liqueur running through it. She took a photo on her phone—making sure to capture the cute camp counsellor in the picture, too—before tipping her second one back.
Heather Tully, the owner of the camp, came over to introduce herself. “I understand you’re Tegan’s mother,” the pretty blonde said.
Grace wiped a touch of lemony sugar from the corner of her mouth. Excellent first impression for the mother of the bride to make. “That’s me.”
“We’re delighted to have you here this week. If there’s anything I can do to make the next few days max-relax for you before the chaos of the wedding begins, just let me know.” The camp director winked.
Grace laughed despite herself. “What did Tegan say?”
“Nothing. I just remember my own wedding. Like Tegan, my wedding was quite the, uh, opposites-attract event.”
Her hippie child was marrying a military man, and that hadn’t been where Grace’s mind had gone. Now, though… She took a deep breath. “Oh, goodness, I hadn’t even thought about that. Unless my ex counts, but he’s just opposite. No attract there, hasn’t been for two decades. But you’re right, I’m going to need all my Zen to negotiate a weekend with Navy people.”
From behind her, there was a grunt. She turned around and caught a stern profile before the man stalked away.
She turned back to Heather, who gave her a bright smile. “Did you get your registration packet?”
“Not yet.” She’d gotten distracted by tequila. And young shoulders.
“Once you pick up your cabin assignment details, we have more drinks down at the boathouse before dinner.”
Tegan had failed to mention just how much booze was a part of the adult re-boot of her childhood summer camp. Grace’s daughter had come to Camp Firefly Falls the first year Heather re-opened it for adults. A lot of camp alumni had. Tegan had taken it to the next level, returning last year as recreation director.
But this year, she was simply a camper again, and only for the weekend. Now Grace’s daughter’s life was squarely on the west coast, where her husband-to-be was a Navy SEAL.
And Grace liked Wyatt very much.
It was just so far from Saratoga Springs. From Grace, and the sweet little hobby farm she’d made their own.
Hot tears threatened behind her eyelids and she shook her head. Nope. Of course she would cry on Saturday. Her baby was getting married. But until then? She was a single woman who hadn’t drunk anything more exciting than peppermint tea inmonths.
She was going to the boathouse for the promised before-dinner drinks.
And if dinner was mostly liquid, that was okay, too.
Grace Bennett was cutting loose.
* * *
Hours later,she was still quite happy with that decision, but in hindsight she should have paid more attention to the details at registration. She vaguely remembered handing her backpack to the handsome boy with the broad shoulders, and someone else giving her a packet with a cabin assignment in it. Then she…did something with that folder.
Her tote bag!
She’d shoved it in there.
Now she just had to find that, which was a challenge because there were three of everything anywhere she looked. And in the hours of drinking and smiling and laughing, she hadn’t really made any new friends. Lots of acquaintances. A few who’d gotten on the bus in Boston called her Canoli Girl, which was fun. Weird, because she was fifty-four, but still fun.
But now as darkness settled more firmly on the camp, and people paired off with their roommates—which Grace didn’t have—or frisky new friends—which Grace didn’t want—she found herself standing on the wide verandah of the main lodge. Everything was swimming around her. Furniture, people, the pretty lanterns on the wall.
“Ms. Bennett, is this yours?” And just like that, her tote bag reappeared at the end of a muscular arm. In triplicate, but she trusted that at least one of them was the real deal.
“Thankyou,” she said, wiggling her index finger in the general direction of his muscular chest. She wasn’t entirely sure she pulled off the casual acknowledgment. So she added a super bright grin.Oh, way to play it cool, Grace.
Tegan hadn’t told her about the booze, or the muscles. Hopefully by the end of the week she’d have gotten over her amazement at both. It wouldn’t do for her daughter to know she was so easily impressed.
