Chapter Two
Piper
Last night, I kept tossing and turning, having nightmares about some tacky resort opening next to Lakeside Serenity Glamping Haven and destroying everything I’ve worked so hard to build.
Panic took over in those dark hours of the night where every thought causes feelings of desperation. The idea of losing my business sent me into a tailspin. Things have been going great for me the last couple of years, but I’m not in a position to outbid some fancy development company. Even though they probably don’t give a hoot about nature and only care about profits, they do have one advantage I don’t have: hard cash.
At least the morning rush took my mind off this threat looming over me. The hours flew by with confirming reservations, people checking out of their tents, and me doing my daily inspection rounds.
I’ve still got an hour to spare before I have to meet Benson, so I decide to take it easy and just hang. Sometimes all a girl needs is to be a couch potato and do nothing productive. I grab a bottle of nail polish and turn on my computer to watch one of my favorite streamers.
Just when I lean back against my pillow, my phone chimes with an incoming call. I glance at the screen, accept the call, and put it on speaker.
“Hi, Mom,” I say. “Everything okay?”
“It sure is. How is Benson?”
I frown, almost forgetting that my mother thinks he’s my boyfriend. “Oh, he’s good.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve been dating for such a long time and we haven’t met him yet.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, distracted by the video game stream I’m watching with half an eye while simultaneously trying to paint my nails a summery yellow.
“We didn’t even get to meet him last Christmas!”
“I told you before, Mom, Benson’s really busy with his campground.”
“At Christmas time? Honestly, Piper, you’ve been together for a year. If he can’t find a moment to meet his future mother-in-law, then how are you going to manage raising kids with him? Your children need their father.”
Kids? With Benson? I suppress the urge to gag.
“You’re overreacting, Mom. Besides, I don’t think we will ever have kids.”
“Oh goodness, are you infertile?”
I roll my eyes and pinch the space between my eyebrows. I brought this upon myself, so I have to remain calm instead of getting annoyed. I guess it’s my punishment for lying to her.
“I’m not infertile, Mother. We’re not even close to having kids yet. Benson and I are not in that stage of our relationship,” I add, trying to remain vague.
“You’re right, you should marry him before you get pregnant. I assume he’s going to pop the question soon?”
“I don’t think so.”
She chuckles. “Sorry, that was a dumb question. He obviously wants his proposal to be a surprise, so I get that you’re oblivious. Anyway, none of that matters right now. I called to tell you I booked a flight to Maine. I’ll be in Fog Harbor tomorrow.”
I jolt upright, the bottle of nail polish that was precariously balancing on my knees tipping over and staining my bedspread.
“Why would you do that?” I squeak, feeling the blood drain from my face. “Why didn’t you check with me first?”
She scoffs. “Excuse me? A mother doesn’t need permission to come visit her own daughter, Piper. I hardly see you as it is.”
“Uhm, I have to work. Summer is the busiest camping season of all the seasons.”
“I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses, Piper. You work way too hard anyway. It’ll do you good to take a few days off and spend them with me.”
“I can’t. I have to deep-clean the toilet building tomorrow,” I tell her, desperately clinging to straws.
“I expect Benson to spend time with us as well. This has been going on long enough. I have a right to meet my future son-in-law,” she says, completely ignoring my protests.
“But, Mom—”
“I’ll text you when I’m at the airport.”
The call disconnects, and I’m left staring at my phone. This can’t be happening. I can’t risk Benson meeting my mother because he doesn’t even know about my tiny white lie. The one where he supposedly is my boyfriend. The lie that I performed in such a convincing way that my own mother thinks my fake boyfriend is about to propose to me.
Panic rises in my chest. Benson can’t meet her, under any circumstances whatsoever. He has to go, but I’m not a magician. I can’t possibly make him disappear with the snap of my fingers. Then again… If I recall correctly, his sister-in-law Aspen used to live in this small town near the Appalachian Mountains. Maybe I can convince Benson to travel there with his brother and Aspen for a hiking trip this weekend? Visit her family while they’re at it?
I shake my head. That’s absurd. Why would he go through all that trouble if he could go on a hiking trip right here in Fog Harbor? And why on earth would he want to meet his sister-in-law’s family?
I’m really grasping at straws here.
I could, of course, come clean with my mother. It beats having to beg Benson to be my fake boyfriend. If I do that, I’d never hear the end of it.
Faking a stomach bug could perhaps be an option? But what if my mother then asks why my boyfriend doesn’t take care of me in my hour of need?
My shoulders sag as I consider my limited options. The truth is my days of dodging my mother’s matchmaking attempts might be over, and I’d better accept it instead of fight it. Soon, I’ll be forced to go to dinner and talk Wall Street with some boring guy I’m not even remotely interested in or have anything in common with, just because my mother believes it’s her duty to fix me up with someone. Someone proper , a phrase she’s beaten me over the head with more times than I can count.
I let myself fall back onto the bed and groan, wondering what I did to deserve this.
I decide to let myself wallow in my feelings for half an hour. By the time I’m supposed to meet Benson, I emerge from my bedroom with new resolve. I’m not going to let this situation get to me. I’ll just find a way to deal with it, as I always do.
I cross the patch of grass at the front of my property and walk the short distance to Benson’s campground. The air smells fresh, and clean, with just a hint of pine and earth that makes me almost— almost —forget why I’m heading over there in the first place.
As I near his campground, I can’t help but notice how well-maintained it is. The place is annoyingly picturesque, with neatly trimmed hedges lining the gravel paths and rustic wooden signs pointing out the way to various trails and tent sites. The trees here are taller, denser, casting a cool shade over the area that makes it feel like a cozy hideaway rather than a commercial campground.
The campfire pit in the center of the clearing is already prepped, with a stack of perfectly cut logs sitting nearby, just waiting for someone to strike a match. Around it are wooden benches made from thick logs, polished to a smooth finish. It’s the kind of place I’d love to sit and relax at night—if only it weren’t Benson’s campground.
I glance around, trying to find something— anything —to criticize, but it’s hard. Benson’s attention to detail is evident everywhere I look, even though I’d never admit that out loud.
I square my shoulders. I’m not going to let a few well-maintained patches of wildflowers and pretty log benches change my mind about him. He’s still the one who looks down on my glamping resort.
When I arrive at his reception building, I knock once and step inside without waiting for an answer. Behind the counter is a door with a sign that says office , so I go straight for it.
Although calling this room an office is pushing it. The place feels more like a glorified broom closet. Benson is sitting behind his desk—an uneven plank with legs—which takes up most of the room, leaving just enough space for a visitor’s chair that seems like it’s on loan from a kindergarten classroom.
He looks up and grins. The way his eyes land on me makes my stupid heart flutter in my chest. I don’t know why he’s making me feel all flustered, but it’s something I’ll have to explore later.
Right now, this thing between us is nothing but pure business.