“You told me,” he explains. “The day we were complaining about Starbucks.”
It was a blip of a conversation, a side note on how corporations like to rip people off with overly sweet drinks that are excessively complicated. I can’t believe he remembered; then again, I knew what would be in his cup as well.
“Earl Grey or peppermint?” He kept both on his person at all times, explaining how no matter where he went he could always find hot water. The quirk came in handy a few times I complained of a sore throat at Finn’s, as he offered up his selection for me to choose from.
“Earl Grey,” he clarifies, taking a sip.
I watch as he cradles his cup close to his chest.
“I thought you might be hungry, so I left a few things down here for you,” he says, taking a step back. The thought of food immediately makes my stomach rumble as I try to remember the last time I ate a proper meal.
I wait for him to leave before I climb down, ecstatic to find a pastry box waiting for me on the desk. Inside is a smorgasbord of sweet treats: croissants, scones, muffins, Danishes, and even a chicken biscuit. I’ve devoured half the biscuit when I see a large bag, plain tissue paper tucked around the edges, sitting on the bottom bunk. I pluck the note attached.
I know this doesn’t make it up to you, but I hope it earns me a fraction of your forgiveness. If you’re willing to give me a few minutes of your time, I’d love for us to be able to talk. Meet me outside by the main cabins? Hudson
I peek inside and see a beautiful leather camera bag, a replacement for the one I destroyed yesterday. The gesture, while sweet, still stings, adding proverbial salt to the wound as I’m reminded of everything I lost. But when I lift it out of its wrapping I’m taken aback by its weight.
With shaky hands, I unzip the main compartment and find an arsenal of items inside. Three camera bodies, multiple lenses, two flashes, and even a matching leather hand strap. Hudson hasn’t just replaced my gear; he’s upgraded it.
I reach for the camera body, removing the protective cap and attaching my go-to lens, a prime thirty-five millimeter. It snaps into place beautifully as I power on the camera, glancing through the viewfinder, snapping a sample photo. The shutter is quick, the focus sharp, and the image on the LCD is crisp and vibrant.
I’ll be able to give Meredith the photos she deserves. I’ll be able to save my business.
Elation courses through me, until I do a mental calculation of how much this must have cost him. Feeling guilty is one thing, but thirty thousand dollars’ worth of gear doesn’t feel like an apology, it feels like a bribe.
I can’t use it, can I?
I don’t want Hudson to think I can be bought, but I have to admit I’m curious as to what he wants to say to me. It’s not as if he can lie about having a girlfriend at this point. And after all the trouble he must have gone through to get this for me, a simple conversation doesn’t seem like that unreasonable of a request.
Throwing on one of Vanessa’s athleisure outfits that make my boobs look amazingly perky, I make my way outside to find him.
“Glad to see you survived last night,” Vanessa says when I step out of the door, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses as she sits at one of the picnic tables outside the barn, her head resting in her hand. She takes a giant gulp from the pink plastic water bottle she’s holding, the color matching her activewear set. “I, on the other hand, am struggling.”
“It’s the sugar,” Adrian groans, taking a seat beside her, looking a little less worse for wear. “You Americans have to put sugar in everything. Alcohol should be simple. Beer or whiskey.”
Vanessa swats at a mosquito on her arm, grabbing a bottle of bug spray from the table and spraying it all over her body.
“Good call,” I say, noticing the bites on my own arms. “I got eaten up last night.”
“Considering we’re about to spend the rest of the day outside, I need to be proactive.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, curious if Meredith’s scheduled one of those group-building exercises like capture the flag or a human relay.
“We are sourcing wildflowers for the bouquets and floral arrangements on our nature walk,” she explains, just as Angie, Jocelyn, and Katherine file out of the lobby carrying plastic buckets.
The statement takes me off guard. “Meredith didn’t hire a florist?”
“She said she wanted the entire event to be authentic to the land,” Jocelyn explains, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
Vanessa’s eyes find mine, and I know we are thinking the same thing. On nights out in college, Meredith would always forget something: her keys, her phone, where she parked her car. So it’s entirely possible that she would forget something as pivotal as a florist.
“Are you going to be joining us?” Katherine asks.
It’s the first time we’ve really spoken since I arrived, and although her words sound friendly enough, her body language is anything but.
“I was actually going to do some recon at the park. Find the best spots for photos for tomorrow,” I lie, avoiding the fact that I came out here to find her boyfriend. But now that I’ve said it aloud, it would be a way to get me out of any group activities for the rest of the day. “Adrian, do you think I could borrow your Jeep? I can show proof of insurance and gas it up and everything.”
“As much as I’d love to let you have it, it’s not mine.”
