Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
C harlie is gone when I wake up. The rain has stopped, thank goodness. I’ll have to make sure none of the other cabins flooded during the night and assess the damage to Charlie’s cabin.
I get out of bed and pad to the bathroom, grateful for the return to privacy.
Having Charlie in my space was tough—for multiple reasons.
I brush my teeth, unable to get the image of him out of my mind.
At one point in the night, I woke up in a twisted position to find my leg crossed over his.
I swung it back to my side and pressed my back against the wall to keep it from happening again.
Our talk last night was the most open and honest one we’ve had since his arrival.
I’m grateful he felt like he could talk to me.
A small, critical voice in my head wonders whether to believe him, that maybe his vulnerability is part of the con.
It wouldn’t be the first time a man used my compassion against me.
I found it hard to trust after that, especially when it’s someone I’m attracted to.
Maybe the attraction is coloring my perception.
I’d have to talk to Gloria or Ben, except then they’d know I had the hots for Charlie.
I can’t share that information with the others.
Angela might be a good candidate for a confession. She’s no-nonsense when it comes to men. If she thinks Charlie is full of shit, she won’t hesitate to say so.
I resolve to speak to her in private the next chance I get, but without divulging the specifics. I don’t want to break Charlie’s trust just because he might be breaking mine.
The more I think about it, the more I think his stories were real, especially the one about his father’s critiques. He actually seemed surprised by the memory, like maybe he’d repressed it. I have no doubt there’s an unhealthy amount of repression going on in the Thorpe family.
I bring a stack of towels to Charlie’s cabin and leave them on the floor to soak up the remaining water. He’s already returned his duffel bag to the room, but there’s no sign of him. No one else reports flooding in their cabins, so I decide to knock on Angela’s door before breakfast.
“Come in, honey.”
I open the door and enter the cabin. “How did you know it was me?”
Angela pokes her head through the bathroom doorway. “I didn’t, but everyone here is ‘honey’ to me.”
That tracks.
I stand in the doorway as she puts on her makeup. She peers at her reflection in the mirror and groans.
“What?”
“I look like I have two of Tom Selleck’s mustaches above my eyes.”
“How could Tom Selleck have two mustaches?”
She glares at me in the mirror. “You’re missing the point. My eyebrows look like very hungry caterpillars that have eaten their way through a picnic.”
“Think of it this way then: soon they’ll transform into beautiful butterflies and fly away. Problem solved.”
She squints at herself. “You’re not wrong. I’ve seen makeup artists on YouTube do amazing work with eyebrow pencils.” She starts to dig through her makeup bag. “I don’t think I brought one.”
I lean against the doorjamb. “I need your advice.”
She whirls around to face me. “This is about Charlie, isn’t it?”
My head jerks up. “How did you guess?”
“You can’t be serious. You two have been circling each other like horny sharks all week.”
I don’t love the image of horny sharks. “How do I know whether I can trust him?”
“Oh, sweetie. Is this about Patrick?”
I shrink back at the mention of his name. “No, I’m asking about Charlie. Why would you bring up He Who Shall Not Be Named?”
“Because that’s why you’re wondering. You trusted Patrick, cared for him, and he betrayed you. Now you’ve developed feelings for Charlie, and you’re scared.” She flicks a finger. “Been there many times over.”
“You?” I laugh. “You’ve never been scared when it comes to men.”
“I’m like a duck, darling. All you see is me gliding across the surface. What you don’t see are my little webbed feet splashing frantically beneath the water.”
Her confession shocks me. It hadn’t occurred to me that Angela would be afraid of anything.
“You’re thirty-two, darling. When was the last time you went into the city or had a date?”
“As a matter of fact, I had a doctor’s appointment in the city.”
“And when was that?”
“Last year.”
Her look is pointed. “Sweetie, you’re the hobbit who refused to step foot out of the Shire.”
Is Charlie right about me? Do I keep my life in a holding pattern fifty weeks of the year? “What’s the difference between a hobbit who got to stay in the Shire and Samwise Gamgee?”
“Courage. To be afraid and jump off that cliff anyway, despite your fears, instead of slinking off to comfort and safety and forever wondering ‘what if?’” She pokes my arm. “Patrick was the worst kind of coward, but you, my darling, have courage in spades.”
I’m not convinced. “What makes you say that?”
“Do you really not see yourself? You were a baby when your father died and left you this place, yet you rose to the occasion and made it something better than it was.”
“I wasn’t a baby. I was in my twenties.”
She pinches my cheek. “Still a baby, and we both know you were the one who kept this place going even before your father passed. You could’ve crumbled in the face of all that adversity.”
“But I didn’t.”
“No, you did not.”
“And what about Charlie?” My face ignites at the mere mention of his name. “Do you think he has courage?”
“I’d have to know him better. What do you think?”
“I’m really not sure.”
She clasps her hands in front of her. “When I met Bob, my second husband, I was terrified that he wouldn’t be interested in a woman like me.
I mean, I thought he saw me as a good-time girl, but not necessarily a long-time one.
His first wife had been Betty Crocker. She loved to play caretaker, and we both know that isn’t my vibe.
I was convinced he’d ditch me when a Martha Stewart came along. ”
“He obviously didn’t.”
“Let me finish my story, darling. One night we’d gone back to his house after a night of dancing. I looked at Bob standing in the kitchen and thought, This is home .”
“His kitchen was that nice?”
“Oh yes, but that’s not the point. The point is that Bob was home for me, wherever that was, and so I decided to speak up right then and there and tell him how I felt. We were married the very next month.”
“You move fast, Angela.”
“I’m glad I did. He died a year later. Imagine if I had waited.
We would’ve lost that precious time together.
” She shakes her head. “I could’ve asked and gotten a different answer, of course, one I didn’t like, but it still would’ve been worth asking because I would’ve known to stop wasting my time on someone who wasn’t willing to commit. ”
“Thanks for sharing that with me. It helps.” I smile at her. “Any prospects for your next husband?”
“No, but I’m having a grand old time anyway.”
I lean my head on her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. Every year I think you might not come back.”
In a rare display of affection, she drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Only Robert Redford himself could keep me away.” She pauses. “Unless it’s the Robert Redford from the Marvel movies. I didn’t care for him.”
“He was playing Alexander Pierce, not himself.” I straighten. “I should go. People will wonder where I am.”
As I reach the door, Angela says, “At the very least, I hope you get to test drive him. If he can make you blush like that when he isn’t even in the room, imagine what he’s capable of when he is.”
I flee the cabin before she starts rattling off a list of descriptive suggestions.
The cabin floor is disappointingly damp. I can’t manage another night in Cricket’s bed. I feel like I was offered the One Ring and was strong enough to refuse its call.
Hold up.
I, Charles Owen Frederick Thorpe IV, made a Lord of the Rings reference.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror to make sure I still recognize myself. Same face. Same hair, albeit slightly more disheveled than usual.
Very different thoughts.
I still can’t believe how open I was with her. I talked about my parents, my career, my feelings . This isn’t me.
What have I done to myself? What has Cricket done to me?
If I’m being honest, though, I like who I am when I’m with her. It’s a scary realization that makes me deeply uncomfortable. When my phone buzzes, I answer it without looking, grateful for a distraction from my confusing thoughts.
“Hey, buddy. How’s Nerds ‘R Us?”
I shrink inside at the sound of Matt’s voice. “Going great. What’s up?”
“Wondering whether you’ve sealed the deal yet.”
“Not yet, but I’m close,” I lie. No way am I giving Matt Lyman an inch.
“Then I guess that means you won’t make it to the charity auction tonight.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I forgot all about the event. People from LandStar will be there, as well as other clients. Clients who Matt will not hesitate to schmooze in my absence.
“I guess I’ll have to miss out,” I hear myself say. “Say hello to Riggieri for me.”
“No problem. Enjoy the rustic lifestyle. Hope those Gucci loafers can withstand the dirt.”
“They’re holding up. I’ll see you next week.” I hang up before I have to listen to his voice one more time. The thought of being back in the office with Lyman and everybody else … It seems like a galaxy far, far away.
Damn. The campers have infected me with their love of pop culture. Soon I’ll be collecting bobbleheads and sticking them on Hugo’s dashboard.
I search for the nearest hardware store and grab my wallet. Cricket intercepts me in the parking lot as I’m reversing out of my spot.
I roll down the passenger window. “Hey.”
“Hey. Where are you off to?”
“There’s a hardware store a couple miles away. Thought I’d buy a space heater for my cabin to try to dry it out.”
“Good idea. You drive. I’ll buy.” She slides into the passenger seat before I can object.
“It’s my cabin. I’ll buy the heater.”
She folds her arms. “It’s my camp. I can buy the heater.”