Chapter Twelve #2
“Does he not understand how important that place is to you? To us? Our mother was born there. Our family owned that land for—I don’t even know how many years but over a hundred, I’m pretty sure.
” Beth paused. “Though I guess you could come back for the party, then go back to Maine. Though it seems like a lot of traveling.”
“Of course I could, and I probably will have to do that. I just wish he wasn’t being so insensitive about this.”
“Yeah, you’d think he’d want to know why Mom lied for all those years. I sure do.”
“Beth, I am not making any final decisions about the camp until I understand why she didn’t want us to know the truth, until I understand why our mother turned her back on her sister and never spoke of or to her again.
” Kit sighed. “I’m assuming she never spoke to her, but there’s no way of knowing for certain.
But what we do know is that she always told us she was an only child, and that was obviously a lie. I want to know why.”
“So do I. I swear, if I didn’t have the shop, I’d be with you.”
“I know you would.”
“But speaking of the shop, I need to get down there. Ned was going to open for me this morning, but he’s been doing the baking this week as well. His muffins are unbelievable.”
“That boy has always liked to bake. Even when he was little, if there was baking to be done, he was there. His sister would lose interest after a while, but Ned was there through the cleanup, bless him. Give him a hug from his mama and tell him to call me when he gets a minute.”
“Will do. But now I really have to go. Thanks for suggesting this. It was fun.”
Kit waved goodbye to her sister and ended the call. She’d been relieved to see Beth looked better than she’d been, giving her hope that the new drug was in fact having its intended effect, hunting down the cancer cells and slaying them.
She drained the last of the tea from the mug and rinsed it under cold water at the sink.
No dishwasher (no surprise), so she set it on the drain board upside down and debated what to do first. The pile of paper on the front desk had caught her eye, and she wanted to dig into it.
Were there bills to be paid, correspondence to respond to?
She’d take a look and see if there was anything important that needed to be dealt with.
She glanced out the window and saw a light snow had begun to fall while she’d been on the phone.
A search through the drawers located a pile of towels.
She dried her hands on one and opened the back door with the key that hung on a nail on the wall next to the sink.
She stepped out and immediately wished she hadn’t.
The wind had picked up since her arrival and sent swirls of white across the yard.
From the corner of her eye, she saw movement.
At first, she thought it was a shadow from the trees moving in the wind, but then the “shadow” stepped out from the tree line and raised its massive head to look around.
Kit had never seen a moose in the wild, and for a second, she forgot to breathe.
The animal was so much larger and more majestic than she’d ever imagined, and for its size, where she’d have expected a certain amount of clumsiness, it seemed agile enough as it crossed the meadow, its enormous head swinging slightly side to side.
A moment later, a second animal appeared, this one much smaller, slower, and not as steady on the slippery snow-covered ground.
The young moose tried its best to keep up with its mother, following in the path that had been cleared by its parent’s large feet.
Kit stood motionless in the doorway until the animals had passed, then waited for a few seconds, hardly believing what she’d witnessed, but then she heard first one, then a second splash as the moose walked into the lake.
She’d known moose lived in Maine but never thought she’d see one in her own backyard.
Her cold hands finally closed the door behind her, and though she was freezing, she was smiling.
She felt she’d just received a very special “welcome to Maine” gift.
There were moose in her yard. A moose with her baby had just passed through on their way to her lake and Kit had been there to witness it.
She only wished she’d had someone to share the moment with.
Still shivering, she went back inside, grabbed her coat and bag and some of the mail that had been sitting atop the sign-in ledger on top of the desk near the front door.
Suspecting that navigating her way to town in a snowstorm might be even worse than driving back in the dark, she stuffed the letters into her bag, tucked the large book under her arm, locked the front door behind her, and headed for the cold car, and Tolerance.
She realized too late that she’d made a mistake not checking the weather forecast before leaving the inn, a mistake she would not make again.
Once at the inn, she gathered the ledgers and her bag and hurried inside to escape the cold, wondering just how long winter lasted in Maine and when she could expect some warm days.
She retreated to her room, dropping the bag and the large book on the table next to the chair by the windows.
She slipped out of her coat, which had dampened in the snow, and tossed it onto the hook behind the bathroom door.
Pulling the knitted throw from the arm of the wing chair, she curled up under the woolen warmth and reached for the bag.
She grabbed a handful of letters and began to read.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Meadows,
Thank you for letting us stay at your camp.
We had the best time. I learned how to catch fish even though I didn’t catch any, at least I know how.
My dad said we could come back again next year if there were any cabins that were not rented.
Please save a cabin for us. I will let you know when we’re coming.
Your friend,
Stevie
Dear Tom and Annalee,
We want to thank you for once again sharing your beautiful camp and meadows (haha—couldn’t resist the pun) with our family.
As always, we enjoyed every moment we spent there.
Whether fishing or canoeing, or kayaking, hiking, swimming, going on the photography walks—every day was a fun occasion, and every night around the campfire a joy to recall.
It’s the best time we ever had as a family, so we’d like to make a reservation for the same two weeks next year.
I’ve enclosed a check covering the deposit, but if rates go up just let me know, and we’ll make up the difference.
Thanks again for such a memorable vacation.
Tom and Claire MacIntyre
P.S. We’d love to have the same cabin again if possible (cabin 9—best view of the lake by far!)
For the next hour, Kit read one letter after another.
Some had been addressed to her grandparents, some to Maxine, but they’d all expressed the same sentiments.
The camp was wonderful, the activities fun, their family had enjoyed themselves every day, and they wanted to return the following year.
There had not been one complaint in the entire stack, though complaints could have been tossed or kept somewhere other than the very top of the desk.
Reading through the registration ledgers had revealed much of the same when the campers signed out. The only exception seemed to be the fact that Maxine, rather than Tom and Annalee, was acknowledged in the later entries.
“Best vacation ever! Thanks, Maxine!”
“Thanks for the fly-fishing lessons!! I’m ready to go pro!”
“We had the best time—our favorite vacation by far!”
“Will be back next year to celebrate our tenth year at the Camp in the Meadows! We’ll bring cake! See you then, Maxine!”
Kit read every handwritten message from the first page to the last. There were obviously many campers who had come every year for years.
She’d love to ask them why, when they could have gone other places and had other experiences and adventures, they returned to this place with no amusement park, no five-star restaurants, no beaches, and from what Kit had seen, not even a movie theater in town.
When she’d reached the second ledger’s end, she closed the book and held it tightly to her chest, warmed by the messages left by strangers whose notes gave her a little insight into the family she’d never met.
Filled with a mix of pride and sadness, she sat for a long time staring out the window where the snow drifted by in the muted silence outside the inn.
She turned the ledger over to study the cover.
Black leather, embossed with a circle in which a small bird flew over tall grass, signifying, she supposed, a meadow.
Inside the first page was inscribed in careful cursive, The Camp in the Meadows.
Guest Registrations—May 2010–October 2023.
She skimmed through the pages and realized every line on every page had been filled in.
It stunned her to realize the camp had been active until a few years before Maxine passed away.
How had she managed to run it by herself while almost eighty years old?
It had to have been a strain. Obviously she had help, most likely from people in the town.
It seemed the more she learned, the more there was to know.
The following morning, Kit called the law office and requested an appointment. Banks was booked through two in the afternoon, but that would likely be a short meeting, so she could come in around two thirty.
“Of course she had help.” Banks sat back in his chair, hands folded over his chest. “You didn’t think Maxine was doing it all by herself, did you?”
“I didn’t realize the camp was still operating as recently as two years ago.” Kit felt somehow chastised by his tone of voice.
“It operated at a reduced capacity, repeat campers only, and only those who contacted her directly, or who had reserved and paid for their cabins at the end of the previous season.”