Page 69 of One Last Summer
Suddenly I knew exactly who this guy was. And judging from the hint of a scowl lurking just below Mack’s forced, pleasant smile, so did he.
“Who won?” Marla asked, our circle opening to include them.
“Clara, obviously.” Mack pressed his hand ever so lightly against the curve of my back.
“Congrats,” Steve said, tipping a salute at me.
Marla, always so soft and easygoing, stood with her hands crossed in front of her chest, stiff and formal.
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “Everyone, this is Brad Bradford. He’s the chief financial officer of Glamp Camp.”
My stomach sank as we muttered polite greetings back.
“These guys are all former campers and counselors who still come up to visit,” Steve said, palming Trey’s shoulder affectionately before gesturing toward Mack.
“Brad, Mack’s run our waterfront for a decade. He knows more about this place than we do,” he said kindly as Mack gave a shake of his head.
“He’s just being nice,” Mack said, reaching his hand forward.
“Very cool, man,” Brad Bradford said, and I could tell from his intense, toothy smile that his handshake was a death grip. “I’d love a tour of the lake sometime.”
“We were about to go out—” Trey started, but Mack cut him off.
“We’re all heading off to grab lunch,” he said, flashing Brad that charming, easygoing grin that I could see right through as a front. “But yeah, anytime before I leave for Los Angeles, I’d be happy to do it.”
“Why don’t we go grab the golf cart, and I can show you the perimeter of the property,” Steve said, steering Brad back toward the Village.
“Great to meet you all,” Pine Lake’s new owner said with a stiff jerk of his hand.
We watched them go in somber silence, until Nick piped up once they were no longer in hearing distance.
“Brad Bradford?” he said with a horrified laugh. “What evil parents would do that to their kid?”
“The same ones who name their kids Linus, I bet,” Linus said in his perfectly clipped, serious staccato.
There was a pause, and then an explosion of laughter, but it wasn’t the joyful, celebratory kind. That mood had disappeared the second Brad arrived. This was pure relief, the kind of cacophony that defused a tense situation.
Brad was here. Pine Lake was ending, for real.
“So I guess no lake time now?” Trey said. “Unless we want Brad to tag along.”
“I think I need a shower,” Mack said, sounding sullen. “Maybe we regroup in a few hours? Sunset cruise?”
After a few more minutes of chitchat, people dispersed. Sam headed off to take a nap, and the rest followed her back up to Sunrise to figure out lunch.
“Come on, Millen,” Mack said once we were alone. “Let’s go clean off. I haven’t even shown you the outdoor shower I built last year. I think I might even have some soap, if you’re lucky.”
He tilted his chin as if to say, “Shall we?”
As if he even had to ask.
The sun tailed us through the trees as we followed a mossy path that wrapped around behind the boathouse. Sure enough, there was a square wooden platform jutting off the back wall of the building, tucked behind a giant boulder and shadowed by a canopy of trees. A smooth slab of granite served as a step, leading up to a tiny deck that jutted out around the shower.
“How the hell have you not even mentioned this to me?” I asked, pausing to admire the tidy row of wooden hooks along the wall, dry towels dangling at the ready.
“What did you want me to say, ‘Come let me strip you down and show you my shower’?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, marveling as he swung the door open, guiding me inside. “Obviously.”
