“Actually, I think we may have a developer in the wings.”
“Really? Who?”
“Scooter Dunham.”
Her parents exchanged a look.
“What? Is there something I don’t know?”
Nina was encouraging. “Well, as a buyer, he’s a solid option. Dunham Corporation is aggressive, and they’ve done well in recent years.”
But her father shook his head. “As a person, he’s an ass.”
Ginny wasn’t surprised, even from her limited time with the guy. Scooter had been a bit obnoxious. Already downplaying the property’s value, finding fault in the lot sizes. And she was put off by his overcomplimentary style: the way he’d held on to her hand too long when shaking it. The wink he gave when they said goodbye. The guy was clearly fond of himself. But she’d navigated these kinds of creeps before, and she wasn’t deterred. “I can see that. But haven’t his residential developments done well in town?”
“They have, for him,” her mother allowed. “Which means good business for us if he works out.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“They’re downright ugly.” Her father set his bottle down, and Ginny realized it was empty. “Look, his developments run high on price and low on quality. Not the typical New England attention to detail and craftsmanship we like as residents of Saybrook. But as realtors, we know a sale is a sale.”
Her mother agreed. “Your father’s right. The guy is known to be a bit of a jerk. But you can handle him, honey.”
“Stay on top of him,” her father advised. “If he’s serious, stick it to him and get the deal done. We want a sale. It doesn’t have to be the perfect buyer.”
The news of Dunham Corporation took a little of the celebratory edge off, Ginny could feel. But even though Ginny agreed with wanting a top-notch development for such a beautiful place as White Pines, she couldn’t argue their bottom line: beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, she’d just gotten the listing. Maybe there was time to find a better developer. Candace Lancaster wasn’t going to give them agency all summer; she’d made it clear she wanted to move fast. If Ginny didn’t produce, she’d replace her in a heartbeat.
But in spite of all the work she’d done both in the office and in marketing, it wasn’t White Pines that stayed with her in quieter moments like this, as she stared up at the sky from where she floated. It was Wendell.
What had happened during the time she’d gone over to help build the fence for the horse had been fluttering around the edge of her mind since. First, there was the fact of the horse and the girl, Julia, whom she’d met that day. Ginny still couldn’t believe how deeply Wendell was getting involved. As much as it heartened her to see, and as much as she believed this was good for him, she couldn’t help but worry. It stemmed from loss, and Wendell didn’t need any reminders of what that felt like.
The other thing that pressed against her thoughts even more than the girl and the horse was what happened to Ginny when she was around him. If she’d been asked a year ago whether she had any regrets about Wendell Combs, she would have firmly said no. And she would’ve been telling the truth. Sure, she had a hard time letting go of him and the future they’d mapped out together. Wendell had been her first love. That meant something. But yearshad passed, and miles between had filled them. In that time, Ginny had grown up. She’d built a solid career. She’d fallen in love again. And her relationship with Thomas, though ill-fated, had been a grown-up relationship. Even though it hadn’t worked out, Ginny knew what it was like to live with someone. To buy that first house together. To share everything from how their day at work went to tubes of toothpaste and the ups and downs of family and friends. She had not been a starry-eyed teenager living at home in her childhood town as she had been all those years ago when she was with Wendell. She’d carved her own path in the world, and she’d enjoyed walking it. So if anyone wondered where Wendell Combs factored in to her adult life, Ginny would have had one answer: the past.
Now she wasn’t so sure. Seeing Wendell was a nice surprise. He looked good. Better than most guys her age. The hard work and being outdoors at White Pines had maintained his athletic build, and he looked strong and sure of himself. Unlike so many of the husbands of her friends back in Chicago, who fought potbellies from desk jobs and fatigue from young children, Wendell was vigorous. He carried himself like the young soldier who’d enlisted with the Guard. And despite the sadness in his demeanor, when they’d joked while working in the barn, she’d spotted that glimmer in his eye. Julia had chatted nonstop; boy, that teen could talk. It made Ginny laugh and Wendell roll his eyes, but as she carried on about Radcliffe and her friends, it gave the two of them a chance to share conspiratorial looks. “Was I that chatty?” she’d whispered. “What?” Wendell had said, cupping his ear. She’d punched him playfully in the arm. And she’d shaken her hand, not so jokingly, after. Hewasstill so strong.
Something undeniable was happening to her when she was around him. Like she was right where she was supposed to be in that moment: something she’d tried to feel but never really hadeven in the good days in Chicago with Thomas. And coupled with that familiar warm feeling was another: fear. That she was getting too close to someone who had made it clear he was not able to get close to anyone ever again. Even to her. Especially to her.
Ginny rolled over onto her stomach and began a slow stroke to where the warm shallow cove met the deeper open span of lake. For a moment she treaded the darker water. The sun was bright and high. She dove under, then circled back toward shore. Swimming helped to clear her head. But there were some thoughts she just couldn’t still.
Ginny stood under the outdoor shower a long time, tipping her head back as it ran from her cheeks to her toes. If there were places on earth that were heaven, a hot outdoor shower after a brisk lake swim was one of them. She was enjoying the rush of water on her spine when her phone rang from the deck. Ginny grabbed her towel and went to retrieve it from her shorts pocket on the Adirondack chair. She checked the screen. “Scooter Dunham.” Well, well. She swallowed hard and answered.
“Ginny, it’s Scooter.” So they were on a first-name basis. “I’ve thought it over, and I think I’d like to make an offer.”
“Hello, Mr. Dunham. That’s great to hear. What’re your thoughts?” Ginny wasn’t playing games. She cut to the chase.
He chuckled. “As you know, I specialize in subdivisions. For this property to make any sense for me, I need confirmation on buildability.”
They’d discussed all this already. Geoffrey Banks was in the process of obtaining building and zoning permits from Saybrook town hall. “I believe we should have final word from the town planning and zoning office later this week,” she reminded him. “Our attorney doesn’t have any concerns about it being passed.”
“Well, that may be. But my attorney does. Something about a wetlands walk?”
Ginny ran through the facts of her last discussion with Candace and Geoffrey. “Yes, that’s correct. I can confirm when that will be, but it’s supposed to be a formality.”
Scooter chuckled again. “Formalities have a way of turning into problems,” he mused. “This isn’t my first rodeo. So, while I’d like to make an offer, it is of course contingent.”
Ginny wrapped her towel tighter around herself. Her refreshing swim and water were already wearing off. “Contingencies are part of my business,” she replied, making sure to keep her voice chipper. She really wished he’d get around to the offer. It was like a game of cat and mouse. “Are you making a verbal offer now, or should I wait to hear from your attorney?”
Scooter paused. “I handle my own offers. Eight point five. Contingent upon permits and buildability. The offer is being faxed to your office now.”
