Chapter 1 #2
“When I first met him,” Blaine said, “I figured Tre was a nickname for a guy who regretted getting stuck with three last names. But oh no! It’s for the Third.”
This time Dad reined in the conversation from departing farther down a bunny trail. “Blaine, you’ve got a college major to settle on.”
“Narrowing it down, Dad.”
“To what?”
“Art history or women’s studies. Maybe ornithology.”
That stopped the conversation, right there. Dad sighed. His voice was fading to a whisper. “What happened to majoring in business? A good, solid foundation.”
Cam let out a hoot. “That was eight majors ago. Maybe ten.”
Blaine scowled at her, then turned to their father. “I’ve crossed off a business major from the list. I can’t support capitalism.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t support capitalism? But you’ll let me pay for your college tuition, room and board?”
Cam raised a hand. “Let’s hold that conversation for another day. I have to pick up Cooper soon and you know how he gets when I’m late.”
“About Cooper,” Maddie said. “Cam, we need to talk.”
“Nope. Nope.” She waved her hand impatiently. “Nothing to talk about.” She turned her attention to Dad before Maddie could launch more psychobabble. “Your point is an excellent one. We all have our own lives. We can’t drop everything and rush to this island. This is your venture. Not ours.”
“Unless you are dying,” Maddie said, brow furrowed with concern.
“Not dying! I just want to make an offer to each one of you that might entice you to move to the island.”
“Entice away,” Blaine said. “I’m all ears.”
Dad pointed at her. “You, young lady, will have to graduate from college before any incentives are offered.”
Blaine’s mouth dropped. “So I’m exempt from this . . . this . . . venture?”
“Partially. For now.”
“Like always! I’m never treated like an adult!”
Cam patted Blaine on her shoulder. “That’s because you’re not one.”
“Fine,” Blaine mumbled, sulky. She picked up her purse and stood. “Then can I leave?”
“No,” Dad said. “I want you all to be a part of this story.”
Blaine let out a moan and collapsed against the sofa like a rag doll. Everyone ignored her.
“The island needs some new businesses. Cam, that’s where you come in with business plans.”
“Nope. Not happening.”
“And Maddie, I’m sure the island church is desperate for a counselor. You can get your hours in to get certified.”
Maddie hesitated, just long enough for Cam to look at her with suspicion. “What about all those brewing opportunities?”
Dad kept going. “Blaine, here’s where you come in. Short term, that is. Come summer, I want your help running the camp.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t like kids.”
Dad let that pass. “And here’s the best part. Because I own the island—well, actually, 51 percent of the island—I get to call it what I want.”
Now everyone’s curiosity was piqued. Blaine tipped her head. “What’s wrong with the name it has?”
“Too hard to pronounce, so most don’t bother. Its official name is Niswi Nummissis.”
“Dad!” Blaine said. “You can’t march in, throw your money around, and steal the heritage of an island. That’s such typical white male entitlement. Everyone will despise you.”
“I’ve thought of that, Blaine,” Dad said in a rasp. His voice was grinding down so that all three girls had to lean forward to hear him. “But I’m keeping the meaning of the name, just translating it to English. Part of its new beginning.”
“So wrong,” Blaine said sadly. “So, so wrong.”
“Aren’t you even interested in knowing what it means?” He had a smile on his face like a cat that swallowed the canary.
Maddie took the bait. “What does it mean?”
“Niswi Nummissis is Algonquian for Three Sisters.” His grin spread from ear to ear. “I’m calling it Three Sisters Island.” Then, scarcely audible now, he said, “Because someday, my dear daughters, it’ll all be yours.”
The three sisters exchanged a look. They rarely agreed on anything, but on this topic, they shared the same thought. At the exact same moment, in such perfect unison it seemed they had rehearsed it, they shouted, “Count me out!”
z
That went well, Paul Grayson thought cheerily to himself as he watched his three daughters drive off. Better than expected, anyway. He sat in his too-quiet home and sipped some tea with honey. Fifteen minutes of talking was about all he could muster. His voice was scoured down to a scratch.
Aside from his weary voice, he felt pretty darn good. In fact, he hadn’t felt this interested in the future since long before his wife, Corinna, had passed away. It was terrifying, what he was doing, and that might be why it felt so right. It was good to feel alive again.
Maddie thought he was having a delayed midlife crisis, but what she didn’t realize was that this—retiring and doing something entirely out of the box—was what he and Corinna had dreamed of doing their entire lives.
She also didn’t realize that he was doing it much later than he should have.
He’d always thought they’d have plenty of time for this, for being together.
But he’d discovered the hard way that time ran out.
This loss of his normal speaking voice, as frustrating as it was, had brought him a gift.
Ironic for a man who spent his life on radio as a sports announcer.
The spoken word had always come easily for him.
He’d been blessed with a memorable voice, a deep baritone that emerged in adolescence and quickly gained him a foothold with the popular crowd in high school.
Sounding like somebody’s father, he would call in to the school’s attendance office to excuse one friend or another from classes.
The school receptionist never caught on. Paul was a very popular guy.
During college, he worked summers at Camp Kicking Moose.
Part of his job was to make announcements over the loud speaker.
During his last summer there, a cute college girl named Corinna Kent came on kitchen staff, and by summer’s end, Paul knew she was the one for him.
Years later, Corinna told him that she’d fallen in love with his voice, booming out the day’s activities in that rich deep baritone, before she ever laid eyes on him.
That voice got him his first job out of college as a radio sports announcer, working for minor league baseball teams. One job led to another, then to the majors, and suddenly he was at the point where he needed an agent to negotiate his annual contracts.
In a way, he stumbled into a successful career.
And in the same way, he stumbled right out of it.
He was now a radio man without a voice. Not much of one, anyway.
He’d loved his career, much too much. He was on the road more than he was home.
Corinna half teased that he loved radio more than he loved her and the girls.
It wasn’t true, but radio came in a close second.
Today, the way Cam’s eyes lit up as she told him about her company, it reminded him of himself.
Cam had always been the daughter most like him.
Focused, driven, competitive. It worried him in a vague way.
Why was that?
Maybe it was because when a career ended, like his did—like they all do, sooner or later—and you’d given up so much for it, what were you left with?
He looked around the living room. An empty, quiet house.
These last few months, losing his voice . . . it was kind of a silent life he’d been forced to live. The funny thing was that he was seeing and hearing much more than he ever had.
Cam was now a single mother, juggling a demanding career with a needy little boy.
Maddie, a middle child in every way, seemed to be heading toward something serious with that Tre guy—another worry hovered overhead, though it too was vague and nameless.
And Blaine, his youngest? She was all over the place, easily influenced by everyone except her father and sisters.
Sisters.
That’s what worried him the most. The wedges that divided his daughters.
The girls were growing increasingly distant from each other.
From him too. He had thought Cooper’s arrival would draw them all together.
Maddie, the one who made efforts to keep the sisters together, had even declared a family mantra: raising Cooper would take a village . . . and they would all be his village.
It worked for a while, but the girls rarely spent time with each other.
When they were together, they spent more time on their phones than talking to each other.
One day he overheard them in the kitchen arguing about which one of them should stay home at Christmas to mind Dad—mind Dad, like he was a family dog—and it stunned him.
They’d rather be with their friends than at home or with each other.
Corinna had been the glue that held them together. Without her, they were fast becoming strangers. A family of strangers. Yes, his children were alienated.
It was time for a radical change. For him, for his daughters. When he heard that Camp Kicking Moose was up for sale, the idea seized hold of him, wouldn’t let him go.
Funny, the things one remembered. All these years later, the memory of that sleepy little island was still fresh. He could practically smell the sun-warmed pine trees, the salt spray of the ocean as it hit the rocks. Every view was a picture postcard of pine trees and seawater.
Maybe, just maybe, Camp Kicking Moose could bring them together.
On an impulse, he had offered a ridiculously low amount to the previous owners.
Embarrassingly low. To his shock, the owners accepted without a counter, as long as he bought it as is.
What could be so bad about that? Suddenly it was his.
He had bought an island off the coast of Maine.
Terrifying. Crazy. Thrilling.