Miles rubbed his clean-shaven face, aware he’d learned a lot about himself in the last couple days.
“Paulson, how about you tell me what the phone call was supposed to be about, and I’ll listen.”For once. Everyone had to start somewhere.
“The corporate retreat on Linden Lake,” Paulson said. “Carter Hotels was the other interested party. My father wanted to open a lake resort, so he sent me to check the place out.”
So when Paulson had shown up at Montressa, hehadbeen up to something.
“Okay.” Miles clenched his jaw. If he’d needed to, he’d have fought Carter Hotels to preserve his camp, the Red House, and Montressa. But none of that made sense anymore, given Paulson’s donation. He needed to hear whatever Paulson had to say.
“I got to know Nate at a hotel conference and when I stopped byMontressa, Avery really sold me on what a special place it was. One day I was on a site visit at the retreat, and she paddled by in a canoe with Casper.”
The only day Miles knew Avery took Casper out in a canoe was the day she had visited the Red House and picked his backsplash. The day she first mentioned Paulson would call him. Miles reminded himself to listen and tried to relax his intimidating rock-hard expression.
“When I told her we wanted to buy it, she spilled the tea about your camp.” Paulson wiped his brow. “That convinced me to pass the retreat. I asked her to let me call you, but I never did. I’m sorry.”
Sweet Avery, she valued people and honored promises. When she could’ve walked away or said nothing, she’d protected Camp Luciole because she knew how much it mattered to Miles.
“So, I told Dad it wasn’t the right spot,” Paulson said. “But we thoroughly studied that land. I hate to see you pay what they’re asking, which is too much. Especially since it needs a new septic field. It seems wasteful for you to repeat what we already did. I can email the report over and I’d be willing to help you draft an offer, if you want help.”
Miles had only bought property twice, and both the Red House and his apartment were residences. Commercial real estate transactions were more complicated, and he could use some help from a seasoned expert like Paulson. There was only one thing to say.
“Um, yes to all of that.” Miles couldn’t control his smile. “This is … wow. Paulson, this is so generous.”
Paulson’s phone rang.
“Hang on a second, Miles. This’ll be quick.” He pressed accept, put the phone to his ear, and stepped into Victoria’s open dressing room. “Hello…”
A production assistant and the FLOP rescue coordinator appeared with a shaggy red puppy.
“Mr. Magrum.” The production assistant checked her clipboardand handed him a blue card. “Your dog for the show closing is Tabasco. Here’s her information.”
Miles picked up the puppy and stared into its almond-shaped eyes. Tabasco whimpered and Miles settled her in his arm, determined to protect her. She needed a safe, loving home. Avery would love this puppy. He wanted to give it to her, but when the rescue agency had been on the show during the holidays, they’d said gifting someone a puppy was giving them a fifteen-year obligation.
The Coopers never seemed to mind their finite commitment to Casper. He ate her lip balm and ran away sometimes, and Avery loved Casper as if he were her own. Miles imagined himself with a dog, throwing a stick off his dock and watching the dog leap in after it. Or riding on his boat. He could get one of those rope leashes, throw on his sunglasses, and walk her around the City.
While he’d been petting Tabasco, his mind stilled, his body relaxed, and his jaw unwound. This must be why dog owners didn’t mind picking up poop or getting sneezed on. Miles watched as Tabasco nuzzled the crook of his elbow. He could’ve sworn he saw the dog smile as she drifted off to sleep.
Pet owners were signing up for his biggest fear. People adopted dogs knowing they would outlive them. Again and again, they signed up for love, despite the inevitable loss. They chose to walk into a situation they knew ended with sadness and grief. Hayes must be right. Winning the love lottery must be worth whatever pain lay ahead.
Miles bounced on his toes, adjusting to the hope filling his heart. He’d discuss this people and dogs revelation and what it meant for his future with his therapist later this afternoon.
Paulson stepped back into the hallway, still holding his puppy. “My office is sending over the documents now.”
“Thank you, Paulson,” Miles said. “I can pay you, or we can work out a donation.”
“Pfft, you don’t need to pay me.” Paulson waved off the offer. “Take me out for a drink at the Marlton. And if a spot opens up on your board, consider me. I know our losses are different, but I believe in what you’re doing. Camp Luciole will have a tremendous impact to the families you serve. Thank you for taking that on.”
Miles had never fully appreciated Paulson’s suffering. And he never would, because grief differed for everyone. Grief didn’t discriminate. So why was he? It was unfair to compare losses. A loss was a loss. A familiar ache rose in Miles’s chest at the thought of Paulson losing his mother.
“I need to give this snowball to Vic.” Paulson shuffled toward the plaza door. “She’s taking him on camera. Will you tell her I want him back as soon as she’s done?”
“Ayuh,” Miles said. “That means yes. It’s a Maine thing.”
“I know.” Paulson laughed. “You say it all the time. It took me a while to figure it out, but I got there.”
As Paulson walked down the hall, Miles realized most of what he’d learned about how people dealt with loss hadn’t come from observing grief camps. Like him, Hayes had feared love after loss. There were other kinds of grief too. Paulson still felt pain over his mother’s abandonment. Sam grieved the loss of his physical fitness. Avery arrived at Montressa still processing the sale of the Peppered Page and her failed engagement. Perhaps he and Avery had grieved one another after that summer.
“Mr. Magrum?” The production assistant tapped her clipboard with her pen. “Um, they want you on the plaza.”
