Naki tilted his head ever so slightly. “And I hope you don’t mind my pointing out that you and your husbandlivein different worlds.”
Mrs. Johnson looked—what was the phrase Pops always used?—caught in a trap of your own making. Yeah. That was the exact look on her face.
Maisie leaned forward for a better angle—just as a mosquito swarm decided she looked tasty. She swatted at them, arms circling like a windmill, lost her balance, fell backward, and toppled over her bike.
By the time Maisie had scrambled to her feet, Naki was already standing up her bike. And Mrs. Johnson? Gone.
Text conversation between Scout and her mother:
Mother
What shouldI wear to a press conference?
Scout
What are youtalking about?
Your father said there’s a press conferenceat five o’clock tonight. He said you’ll bementioned. So I wondered what I should wear.
I haveno idea. Not about your wardrobe and not about thepress conference. All I’ve been told is to bein Ranger Rivers’s office at four thirty this afternoon.
Well,if you checked your phone more often,you’dbe up to speed on these things. Now,would anavy blazer be too formal?
Twenty-Two
Between every two pine trees, there is a door leading to a new way of life.
—John Muir, conservationist
The crowd in front of Hulls Cove Visitor Center was bigger than Tim Rivers had expected. Press conferences weren’t exactly his idea of a thrilling way to spend the day, but this one had drawn reporters from Portland to Bangor. Tim crossed his arms, his ranger hat tipped just enough to shield his face from the afternoon sun.
Up at the podium, Superintendent Doreen Campbell was doing what she did best: talking. She had the smooth delivery of someone who enjoyed cameras and headlines, but she couldn’t make bureaucratic language sound exciting.
He glanced around and spotted familiar faces on the far side of the patio. Maisie was waving at him like a shipwrecked sailor desperate for rescue until he lifted a hand in response. Thea didn’t even notice him. She was scanning the crowd with the intensity of someone on a mission. And Becky—lovely, mature Rebecca—caught his eye and winked. Tim, without thinking, winked back.
Imagine that. He looked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets as a warmth spread through him. When was the last time he’d winked at anyone?
Lunch at Stewman’s had flown by, conversation tumbling so easily between them that an hour had felt like minutes. They’d decided to meet again for dinner, and this time, she insisted—it was her treat. He was counting the hours until he could spend time with Becky again.
Tim’s mind was miles away from Doreen’s verbosity. Maisie’s face lingered in his thoughts—he knew she was hurt by how Frankie kept brushing her off for that blue-haired girl. She didn’t deserve that. Bit by bit, little by little, Maisie was coming into her own. Tim had watched her grow, seen her quiet shifts as she matured, and it bothered him that someone as oblivious as Frankie couldn’t appreciate just how special she was.
He glanced over to where Becky was standing. Later today, he would tell Maisie how Becky had been his best friend’s little sister, always underfoot, always annoying in that way younger siblings are. Never gave her any thought until that summer he came back from college. And there she was—no braces, all filled out, looking like she’d stepped right out of the dreams he didn’t know he’d had.
He could almost hear Maisie’s voice now, asking why he didn’t ask Becky out. He’d wanted to, once he saw her that way. But she had a boyfriend that summer, and Tim had figured there’d be time later. But there wasn’t.
Life had a way of slipping right through your fingers if you weren’t careful. And sometimes, by the time you figured it out, it was already too late.
Not this time. Tim wasn’t going to let Becky slip away. He cast a glance to his left. He didn’t mind so much if Frankie slipped away.
He tried to pull back his thoughts and pay attention to Doreenas she went on and on and on about the significance of the shipwreck, the hidden gold, and the meticulous investigation that had brought them to this point. His mind started wandering again ...
Thirty minutes earlier, in his office, the superintendent had met with him and Scout. The memory of that meeting made Tim shift uncomfortably where he stood.
The superintendent had wanted them to know, prior to the press conference, that the legal department had concluded the gold belonged to Acadia National Park, as the ship had come to rest within park boundaries. A hefty finder’s fee would go to Ranger Scout Johnson for first discovering the clues that led to the shipwreck’s discovery.
Tim had watched Doreen put pressure on Scout, all while keeping her tone light and professional. “Just a thought. Turning your finder’s fee over to the park would show real dedication to Acadia. You like it here, don’t you?”
Tim had caught Scout’s stiff nod, her lips pressed tight, and he’d felt a pang of sympathy. Scout was a hardworking, dedicated ranger. It was a career that didn’t pay much and often asked for more than it gave back. As the saying went, rangers were paid in sunsets, not salaries. And now she was being pressured to forfeit a nice windfall.
