Holding Ground (The Mercer Family #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

Elliott

Roy

Did I already tell you the bunkie was rented out? Three months, starting tonight.

Why did I ever put him in charge of renting the bunkie on the back of my property? He always tells me late. I’m raising a kid here, all by myself. And three months? That’s an extended period of time to spend in Echo Lake, especially after tourist season.

I pocket my phone, staring down at my daughter.

Baylor watches the final vehicle pull away, eyes bright with tears.

Gravel crunching under tires is a familiar sound after a summer of parents, campers, and counselors cycling through Anchor Point Camp.

But when the season ends, there’s a particular finality to it—a quiet melancholy.

One my five-year-old daughter is only just beginning to feel.

“Why do they have to go, Daddy?”

I bend down and scoop her up. “All the kids have to go back to school next week. Just like you.” I poke her tummy, and her big blue eyes alight with humor, blinking away the sadness.

She tilts her head. “Will I like kindergarten?”

“Of course you will. You’re going to meet all kinds of new friends, and you’ll get to do fun things all day. It will almost be like you’re in summer camp again.”

She gives me a skeptical look, and I bite back a laugh. “You said I’d like the dentist too.” Baylor’s face pinches in disgust.

A laugh escapes me. She complained about her visit to the dentist every day for a week afterward. I shudder to think how she’ll feel the inevitable day she gets her first cavity.

“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad.” I steer us toward the water.

“Daddy, she put this stuff in my mouth that tasted like mint. You know I hate mint!”

I rub her back. “I know, kiddo. You were very brave that day.”

“Obviously.” She gives me a look like, “duh.”

Thanks for that one, Ansel. I made some offhand comment to my brother last week, and he shot back with “Obviously,” in his sarcastic flair. Baylor has been deploying it ever since.

When we reach the edge of the dock, I set her down. “How about you help me carry these life jackets over to the storage shed, and then we can leave?”

There’s plenty of work still ahead to get the camp shut down before the hunters and snowmobilers start traveling into Maine to use it, most of which I’ll do in the coming weeks when Baylor is in school.

Almost all the counselors are college kids who also returned to school this weekend, so I’m on my own.

Though I’m not too proud to ask my siblings to help, like in the years past.

Baylor groans and rolls her head back, just like her mother used to.

I squash the thought of the woman the moment it surfaces.

“Tell you what. I have to go talk to Uncle Roy. How about you help me, and then we’ll take the boat into town? We can go to the café and grab you a steamer.”

Her eyes widen almost as much as her smile. “Really? Before dinner?”

Her strawberry-cream steamers are syrup-heavy enough that I usually save them for after dinner. “Special treat. It’s the last Friday before you start school.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” She wraps her tiny arms around my legs, squeezing tightly. Then, before I can say anything, she bolts for the pile of life jackets beside the dock. “C’mon, Daddy. Hurry.”

I follow, laughing. She’s more enthusiasm than muscle—I haul eight for every two she manages—but within ten minutes, the life jackets are stacked neatly in the storage shed.

“Can we get my drink now?” Baylor vibrates with so much impatience that you’d think she’d already ingested the steamer.

“Just let me double-check that all the cabins are locked first.”

Her entire body loses all muscle control. “You said we could go after the life jackets.”

I ruffle the top of her hair. “It’ll only take me a few minutes. Want to race me?”

The words are barely out of my mouth before she’s sprinting for the cabin path. Within fifteen minutes, we’re headed back. The second Baylor spots the dock, she breaks into a run.

Her feet slap on the wooden boards, and I holler, “No running on the dock, Baylor. You know the rules.”

For once, she listens and slows to a fast walk. She must really want that drink.

I help her into the boat and hold out her life jacket. She hates wearing it, but probably not more than I do. The truth is, if I were on the boat alone, I wouldn’t be wearing one, but I can’t very well preach water safety and not model it.

After I untie the rope and pull in the bumpers, I ease the boat away from the dock.

Baylor sits in the seat beside me. “Can we go fast, Daddy?”

My little speed demon.

Without responding, I push up the throttle. The bow rises as we accelerate, then levels off.

Baylor laughs and throws both hands in the water-sprayed air. I steal a glance, committing this moment to memory—her brown hair whipping out behind her, mouth open in delight, blue eyes wide.

Not so long ago, she was a toddler, still learning her first words. Before I know it, I’ll be sitting beside a sullen teenager I’m desperately trying to coax a smile from.

I slow the boat once we approach town.

Echo Lake’s Main Street dead-ends at the lake, so I can park my boat at the marina there, and we can walk through town, a convenience that only lasts through the warmer months. Come winter, we’ll have to drive all the way around the lake unless the water is frozen enough to snowmobile over.

Baylor is out of her seat, practically jumping up and down as I ease the boat into an open slip. Once I’ve secured the boat and reset the bumpers, I help Baylor out of her life jacket, strip off my own, and lift her onto the dock.

“No running on the dock.”

Growing up on the water, Baylor knows her water safety. It’s something I’ve drilled into her head since she started speaking. She knows not to ever go near the water without an adult, and that if she’s in a boat or out on the water, she has to have her life jacket on.

But still, she’s only five years old, and when she’s excited and impatient like she is now, she needs the reminder.

She waits for me at the end of the dock and takes my hand as we head up Main Street.

“Are you gonna get something, Daddy?”

“I don’t think so, kiddo. I’ll probably grab something at home.”

Her sweet face tilts up at me. “Like one of your beers?”

I chuckle as we approach the Hollow Pine Café. “Probably.”

“Miss Dottie.” Baylor rushes over to the counter, climbing up on the black vinyl stool, leaning across as if Dottie can’t see her.

“If it isn’t my favorite little girl.”

I grip the back of my neck and give her a reserved smile. “Hey, Dottie.”

She gives me the once-over and leans over the counter toward me, careful to position herself so I get a clear view down the V-neck of her logo tee. “How are you doing, Elliott? Camp closed today?”

“Sure did.” I push my hands into the back pockets of my cargo shorts.

“Guess that means you have extra time on your hands?” She runs her index finger down the center of her neck straight to her cleavage.

It’s taken years of practice not to follow the movement. I learned quickly that even the slightest provocation gives Dottie the green light to press further.

She’s probably two decades older than my thirty-four years, though that’s not the issue.

She’s an attractive woman, and if I were a different man with a different life and different responsibilities, maybe I’d take her up on her offer.

But I’m not, and I don’t fuck around just for the sake of it, and certainly not with a woman I share this town with.

Besides, I’m not na?ve enough to think I’m the only man Dottie flirts with. Everyone knows she’s the town flirt.

So I do what I always do—make it clear I’m not interested without making it an outright rejection. “Well, now comes all the work of getting the camp ready for winter, so not that much extra time, I’m afraid.”

“Miss Dottie, can I have a strawberry and cream steamer?” Baylor interrupts.

I rest my hand on top of Baylor’s windblown hair from the boat. “Manners,” I say, but really, I want to kiss her for saving me from the conversation.

“Please.” She smiles across the counter.

“Of course you can. But only if you promise to bring your daddy in here more often.” Dottie winks at me before she straightens away from the counter.

Once Baylor has her drink, I say a quick goodbye and lead us toward the hardware store my uncle owns.

Time to figure out who our mystery guest is.