the first love

JENNIFER BERNARD

contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

About the Author

Also by Jennifer Bernard

prologue

On their last night at Lake Bittersweet, Carly Gault and her four friends sat around the summer’s final campfire. Even though they were queasy from too many roasted marshmallows and exhausted from the long summer of cleaning cabins, none of them could bear for their last night together to end.

“You know what I hate?” said Carly, whose face felt puffier than those marshmallows from crying for the past three days over the breakup that had shattered her heart. She stared into the fire, where a fallen marshmallow was melting into a blackened, sticky mess—just like her heart, she thought morosely. Three days ago, she’d never wanted to leave Lake Bittersweet. Now she couldn’t wait to get on the plane and go home.

“Um…does it begin with T and stand about six feet?” Gina asked lightly.

“No. That topic is closed forever.”

Her four friends murmured their agreement, and Kendra swatted Gina on the leg.

“What I hate is when people say ‘best friends forever’ but it’s just a thing to say and not real,” Carly explained.

“That’s because you live in Hollywood. Nothing’s real there. When I say ‘best friends forever I fucking mean it.” That was Brooke Kendall, who’d spent the summer perfecting her bad girl swearing game and intended to dominate her last year of boarding school.

“I always mean what I say.” Kendra licked a bit of marshmallow off the back of her hand. “Except when I said I liked that hoodie on you, Gina.” She tugged Gina’s jacket sleeve. “I’d wear it better. If you give it back to me, I swear I’ll be your best friend forever.”

They all laughed. Gina shrugged out of her hoodie and handed it to Kendra. “Deal, girl. You better not back out. You swore on a hoodie.”

“I won’t.” Kendra threw an arm around her shoulders and leaned her head against her. “I can’t believe everyone’s leaving us here all alone,” she moaned. She and Gina were the only two local girls in the group, and kept complaining about the boring senior year of high school ahead.

Brooke claimed she was a local, but her situation was different. Her family owned one of the summer “palaces,” as Carly thought of them, and spent summers at Lake Bittersweet. Carly herself could maybe be considered a local, since her father owned the Blue Drake Club and Resort. But it was complicated, as everything in her life was, by the fact that she’d mostly been raised by her mother in Los Angeles, and only got to spend time at Lake Bittersweet when it suited her mom’s schedule.

“Oh boohoo,” exclaimed Trixie Tran as she prodding a bit of charred firewood with her marshmallow stick. “I have to go back to Alaska where all my friends already have boobs and all the boys think I’m, like, eight. Just because I look young does not mean I don’t have sexual needs like everyone else.”

“This could be your breakout year,” Carly said encouragingly, because that was her role, even when heartbroken. She was everyone’s cheerleader. “All the boys here noticed you.”

“Because they haven’t known me forever.” Pouting, she jabbed at the fire, causing a flame to flare up high, spitting sparks. With a squeal, she scooted backwards, knocking over the bag of marshmallows in the process.

“Noooo!” Brooke crawled over to the tumbling marshmallows, trying to catch them before they hit the dirt. “Two second rule, right?”

“No way. This is dirt. Like actual Mother Earth dirt. The two second rule doesn’t apply and if you ask my daddy, it never did anyway.” Kendra’s father was the chef at the Blue Drake, the jazz lounge slash resort where they’d all spent the summer working as chambermaids, cleaning lakeside cabins.

“Fuck that, we’re talking marshmallows. Fuck the rules,” Brooke declared as she popped a marshmallow covered in forest debris into her mouth.

“Fuck the rules!” Trixie echoed, starting to follow suit with her own marshmallow. Then she paused and looked at it more closely. “Ew. There’s a big black ant on mine.”

Brooke gagged and spit her mouthful of marshmallow into the fire, while the others cracked up.

Gazing at the four girls she’d spent the summer working and playing with, Carly’s heart ached at the thought of saying goodbye. She was going to miss them so much. The five of them came from such different places and had such different personalities, but they’d formed an incredibly tight crew over the summer.

Falling wildly in love with Thomas Cooper and getting her heart broken had cemented that bond. How would she have gotten through it without her friends?

Oops—Thomas Cooper was now “he who shall never be mentioned.” At least she hadn’t said his name out loud. She was the one who’d laid down that law, after all.

“When I’m done venting and screaming and crying, I don’t ever want to talk about him again. I’m going back to LA and he can do whatever he wants, I don’t care. I just don’t want to hear about it.”

Her friends had respected that wish—or command, however you wanted to look at it. One more reason to love and adore them.

“Hey, I have an idea,” she said suddenly.

“If it’s another prank on a hotel guest, don’t even say it,” said Kendra. “The way that man screamed when Kool-Aid came out of the shower, I’ll never forget it.”

“And it better not be going midnight swimming again.” Brooke pulled her thousand-dollar puffer jacket around her. “I haven’t built up enough body fat yet. God knows I’m trying. Thick thighs save lives.”

With an innocent blink of her eyes, Trixie passed her the bag of grubby marshmallows, making everyone laugh.

“Don’t worry, it won’t get anyone in trouble. Well, I suppose it could, someday. Eventually. Sometime way in the future.” Carly propped her back against a log and gazed up at the starry night sky. “Depending on the circumstances. I mean, I can imagine a scenario in which—”

“Sweet Jesus, just spit it out,” Brooke exclaimed. “You’re always so dramatic. What is this big idea?”

“Oh, I’m dramatic? You’re the one who locked yourself in the boathouse until your dad agreed to let you work for the summer.”

“I knew he’d give in because of how much he loves that fucking boat. Good thing I did, right?”

“Hell yeah.” Kendra reached over to low-five her. “Whatever it takes, girl.”

“I’m not dramatic,” insisted Carly. “I’m the ordinary middle child. Everyone knows that.”

“Maybe you are at home, but here with us, you let your drama freak flag fly.” Kendra smiled to take the sting out of her words. “Own it, Carly. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.” With her warm brown eyes glowing against her warm brown skin, it was impossible to be mad at Kendra.

Besides, she made a good point. With a volatile rock legend father and a D-list actress/model/singer for a mother, Carly was used to being the recipient of drama, not the instigator. It was only with her friends—and Thomas—that she let out her own emotions.

“I still want to hear Carly’s idea,” said Trixie. “Is there any dancing involved? I’m always up for some dancing!”

“There might be. Depending on the circumstances.”

“Okay, now you’re just messing with us. Everyone just shut up so Carly can actually say her idea instead of being all mysterious.”

Everyone zipped their lips and focused their eyes on Carly, who felt self-consciousness sweep over her. One thing she loved about their little posse of friends was the sense of being one among several. A pea in a multifaceted pod. Not singled out as different because of her legendary father.

“Well, now I just feel silly.”

“Spit it the fuck out,” commanded Brooke.

“Back off, RB.” They only pulled out the RB nickname—short for Rich Bitch—when Brooke really deserved it. “It’s this. Everything’s about to change, right? Brooke, you’re going back to boarding school soon. Trixie’s going back to Alaska. Kendra’s starting that early college program. Gina’s training for the Olympic trials. I’m going on that USO tour with my mother. We’re probably going to be too busy to talk all the time like we do now.”

She was just being realistic and pragmatic, but even so, a quiet sadness fell across the group.

“We can try—” Gina began, but Carly waved her off.

“We have to face facts. I just got my heart broken, and I can’t handle another crushing disappointment. I’d rather be real about things. We’re friends, best friends, maybe even best friends forever. Maybe it’s not just a bullshit phrase. But we have to actually make it real.”

“And your idea is about how to make it real?” Kendra blew a floating cinder away from her face.

“Yes.” Carly drew in a long breath so she could formulate her idea into words. “A vow.”

“A vow to be best friends forever? Until death do us part?” Brooke hummed the tune of the Wedding March.

“No. A vow that if there’s some kind of emergency or crisis, we’ll be there for each other, the way you guys were for me when T—” She broke off, having nearly forgotten her ban. “When I really really needed it.”

“Hmmm.” Trixie propped her chin in her hand and tapped her finger against her cheek. “Like a 9-1-1.”

“Yeah. I guess. That way we know that even if we’re all grown up and living in different parts of the world or whatever, we’re not alone. We always have someone we can turn to in case of disaster.”

“I have disasters every few days,” Trixie pointed out. “Fashion disasters, for sure.”

“You have to be selective. That’s part of the vow. You only call for help if it’s dire.”

“Dire. I love that word.” Brooke repeated it in a deep and ominous tone. “Dire. My pants are on fire and things are looking dire.”

They all giggled.

“But seriously, I like this idea,” she continued. “It’s kind of comforting. Like, if everything else falls apart, we have an ace in our back pocket.”

“Chambermaids to the rescue!” Trixie raised her fist in the air.

“Damn right,” said Kendra. “Everyone underestimates us. I think it’s the feather dusters.”

Carly smiled at that. “We’re obviously not going to be chambermaids forever.”

“I might be,” Gina said gloomily.

“Only if you want to between gold medals.” Still the cheerleader, even with a broken heart. “But we can still be best friends forever, in our own way.”

“I’m in.” With her usual decisiveness, Brooke put out her hand, palm up. Carly slapped hers on top, then Kendra and Gina did the same, and lastly, Trixie.

“One little thing,” Trixie added, scrunching up her face. “Can you try to have emergencies in the winter, because that’s the best time to leave Alaska,”

Everyone giggled, then got serious again almost immediately. Smoke drifted from the campfire, the smell evoking summer and adventure. The lake, just a few yards away, lapped gently against the shoreline. A loon called in the distance, a lonely cry from the heart that Carly felt in her bones.

“By the light of the sacred campfire,” she intoned. “Under the summer stars, we five friends do hereby make a vow.”

“Sacred?” Brooke whispered skeptically. “You know I’ve renounced religion until they straighten that shit out.”

“Fine. By the light of the cursed campfire.”

Everyone laughed, but as before, quieted quickly.

“This vow shall bind us together by the power of…” Carly glanced around for inspiration.

“Not blood,” said Trixie quickly. “I draw the line at knives.”

“Not spit, that shit is gross.” Kendra shuddered.

“Here.” Brooke grabbed the bag of dirty marshmallows. “By the power of s’mores.”

“By the power of s’mores,” agreed Carly. “Everyone except Brooke lift your hands for a sec.”

They all pulled their hands out of the pile, leaving Brooke’s upturned palm exposed. Carly placed a marshmallow on it, then arranged the others’ hands on top, with a marshmallow separating each one, like a five-layer hand and marshmallow cake.

“It’s a good thing we already ate all the chocolate and graham crackers,” said Kendra. “Or this could get nasty.”

“Oh, it’ll still be nasty.” Brooke grinned at the prospect. “Nasty and gooey. Can’t wait. Go on, Carly.”

“This vow shall bind us together by the power of s’mores. Forevermore, we five shall promise to come to each other’s aid when circumstances are dire.”

Brooke hummed in appreciation of her favorite word.

“This shall constitute our definition of best friends forever. Those who are best friends forever, let no one tear asunder.”

“Oooh, asunder, that’s another good word. You are bringing it, Carly. Rock on.”

“Once these marshmallows are squished, the vow shall be complete. On the count of three. Three…”

They all glanced around at each other, their faces illuminated by firelight and a funny mix of laughter and solemnity.

“Two…last chance to back out.”

No one moved.

“One. Squish!” As one, each girl pressed down on the marshmallow and whoever’s hand was below theirs, so their hands were joined in a gooey, sticky, sweet-smelling mess. Hooting with laughter, Carly ground her hand against Trixie’s, who smushed hers into Kendra’s, whose hand was skin-to-goo-to-skin with Gina’s, and at the bottom, Brooke’s.

“Best friends forever!” she shouted. The others joined in, waving their marshmallow-glued hands together in the air. Then, laughing, they stumbled awkwardly to their feet and danced the conga in the firelight. “Best. Friends. For…ever.” Kick. “Best friends for…ever.” Kick.

“Midnight swim?” Carly said hopefully.

“No!”

“But it’s a dire situation—”

“No!”

“But my broken heart—”

“Hell no! We’re not bringing him into this.” Kendra shook her head firmly.

“Bringing who?” Trixie asked innocently. “I have no idea who you’re talking about. Do you, Brooke?”

“Nope. It’s like there’s a black hole in my brain. It’s the weirdest thing.”

That proved it, thought Carly. They really were the best friends a girl could have. But forever?

Maybe. Who knew? A vow was a vow. But maybe vows were made to be broken, just like promises and rules, and the words Thomas had whispered to her at night.

Or maybe the power of s’mores would win out. Time would tell. They were only teenagers, after all. Who knew what would come next in their lives, and how dire it could get?

One thing she knew for sure. Nothing could possibly out-dire the pain of getting dumped by the only boy she’d ever loved, or would ever love. Quietly, to herself, Carly made her own silent vow. I’m not doing that again. I can’t bear it. From now on, I’m not going to let anyone hurt me, especially a boy.

So help me, s’mores.

one

The death of longtime Freaks front man Steven Gault shocked the music world today. Gault, who had in recent years spent most of his time in semi-retirement in Minnesota, was on his way to perform with the Freaks at Lincoln Center. He died of a heart attack in his first class seat, just after acquiring the phone number of the flight attendant, according to witnesses.

Gault was known for his outrageous stage uniforms and barely less restrained offstage wardrobe, particularly his signature purple stovepipe hat and heavy eye makeup. When the Freaks cut back on their touring and recording schedule, Gault purchased a dive bar in Lake Bittersweet, Minnesota, and transformed it into the iconic Blue Drake Club. Some of today’s top performers launched their careers there. In time, he expanded the Blue Drake to include lakeshore cabins. He was known as an activist for causes from AIDS research to musicians’ rights. In recent years he was involved with several lawsuits and countersuits with the local Lake Bittersweet authorities.

He leaves behind four ex-wives and three children, Conor, Carly and Bliss. The rock world is mourning an icon today.

Carly Gault stood across the street from the Blue Drake Club and Resort in her suede half boots and checkered swing coat, feeling very out of place in this tiny lakeside community. She hadn’t been back since her summer of heartbreak. And now Gault—as he’d always insisted his kids call him—was gone. It was almost impossible to believe. Part of her had wondered if the Blue Drake would vanish in a puff of smoke at the same time.

But no such luck. It was still here, still an eyesore—and now it was her problem.

Staring at the peeling gold paint on the old sign, she noticed that some letters were missing, making it look more like The Blue D—k. Cheeky and inappropriate, kind of like her dad. Maybe he’d peeled that paint on purpose before he’d dumped this place in her lap.

Carly drew in a deep breath of crisp air. Even though it was near the end of May, the remnants of winter still lingered in patches of slush and the threat of below-freezing nights. She’d never been to Minnesota at this time of year; she’d only spent a couple of summers here with her father. Gault preferred to travel to wherever his kids were in order to see them. As if they were exotic vacations instead of his children.

No bitterness, she reminded herself. There’s no point. He did his best. He loved her, in his own way. Possibly, he even respected her. Why else would he have named her as the executor of his estate?

He could have chosen Conor, her older half-brother, who actually knew about money. Or Bliss, her younger half-sister, who’d always been his pet because she was so beautiful. But no, he’d chosen Carly. The one in the middle. The one with neither the breathtaking beauty nor the reckless brilliance of her half-siblings. The one who was great at solving other people’s problems but never her own. The one with one-sixth of a law degree.

Bingo. Maybe that was why Gault had chosen her. She’d hated the one semester of law school she’d completed. But Gault had never fussed about details like that. He’d once hired a workman to build a new stage because he liked the wood carvings he was selling by the side of the road. He was spontaneous like that.

Hence the three children by three different women.

Get your ass in gear, Carly, she scolded herself. You can’t stand out here in the cold forever. You could at least cross the street.

Then again, if she crossed the street, she’d have to go inside the Blue Drake. And after that, she’d be overwhelmed with details and loose ends and bills and contracts and vendors and unpaid musicians and pissed-off lenders and…

Oh yeah. And the shocking reality that her larger-than-life father was no more.

Every time she thought about that, she had to move. It was the strangest thing. If she was in bed, she’d sit up and claw at her blankets, chest heaving. If she was already up, she’d leap into action—any action.

So before she knew it, she was across the slushy street and standing in the shadow of the Blue Drake. Its exterior was deceptively bland, with a kind of Minnesota-nice modesty, featuring cobalt blue trim and cedar shingle siding. A large picture window offered a view of the cavernous interior and the raised stage. The Blue Drake sign was what really stood out, with its garish gold paint. It used to have a blue neon naked lounging woman next to it, but no longer. Maybe Gault had lost that battle with the Lake Bittersweet authorities.

Stepping closer to the recessed entryway, where on busy nights a bouncer set up a velvet rope, she noticed a piece of paper plastered to the door.

Closed by Order of the Fire Marshal, it read.

Great. The Blue Drake was already drowning in debt. Her job was to right the ship enough to make it palatable to a potential buyer. How was she supposed to do that when it wasn’t even open for business?

She tried to rip it off the door to stuff it in the pocket of her coat. But the fire marshal had put so much adhesive on it that she could barely get a corner peeled away. Oh well. She gave up on it.

At some point she’d have to track down this fire marshal and find out what she needed to do to get the place open again.

For now, baby steps.

Like, going inside.

Steeling herself, she dug out the key that had been sent to her in the mail back in Los Angeles. It must have been a copy of a copy, because she had to wiggle it hard to get it to work. She pulled open the heavy door and the smell of that teenage summer slammed her in the face.

Her first taste of whiskey and the thump of headbanger rock and Blue Drakinis and breathless dancing with the other chambermaids and late-night plunges into the lake and sweet flirting with the handsomest boy she’d ever seen.

And that one night behind the Blue Drake, hiding under an overturned canoe, giggling, on fire, wanting him so bad she kind of lost her mind, and her virginity along with it. They’d been inseparable the rest of the summer.

Where was Thomas now?

Thomas. Such a simple name, but she used to whisper it to herself like some kind of incantation. Never Tom or Tommy—always Thomas. So strong, so reliable. So sweet and just a little bit awkward when they first kissed. Maybe more than a little bit. As if he was intimidated by her father, and her life in LA, and everything that made her different from the Lake Bittersweet kids.

“Hello?” she called into the shadowy, cavernous space. Gault had added touches of gilt and blue velvet to the original plain wood interior. He’d wanted old-fashioned glamour mixed with eccentric additions like a giant carved blue duck next to the stage.

Amazingly, a voice answered her from the depths of the kitchen at the back of the building. “Sorry, we’re closed. Didn’t you see the sign on the door?”

Carly walked toward the kitchen. It seemed as if the place had shut down in a hurry. Everything looked exactly the way it always did after a show, minus the empty beer bottles and shot glasses clustered on tabletops. She was surprised there was no seventies-era metal-head sleeping it off in a corner.

Just in case, she peered carefully into the corners as she passed.

When she made it to the kitchen, she blinked in the sudden light. A curly-haired woman perched cross-legged on the counter next to the big eight-burner stove. She was waiting for the tea kettle to boil, judging by the mug she held in one hand, with a tea strainer sticking out at a jaunty angle.

As Carly’s eyes adjusted to the light, the woman plopped down the mug and jumped off the counter.

“Carly! You’re actually here!”

Carly nearly stumbled backwards as the woman tackled her.

“Gina? Gina Moretti?”

“Yes! Do you think I’d abandon you in your greatest hour of need?”

“I…” Carly hadn’t even thought about it. “I didn’t even know you still lived here. Oh my God. Gina! How’ve you been?”

“Off the charts, baby. Off the charts. I mean, if you don’t count the divorce and a couple of injuries here and there.” Gina drew back and now Carly could focus on her face. All those bouncy curls and the long-lashed black eyes took her right back to that summer. Gina used to circle her eyes with so much black makeup she looked like Joan Jett.

She knew that because Joan Jett had played the Blue Drake that summer.

“What are you doing here? I mean, I’m super-glad to see you. I can’t even believe it. I’ve been dreading coming back, but if I’d known you’d be here…”

Gina patted her cheek. “Of course I’m here for you. Your father just died. I’m so sorry, Carly. He was like my…I don’t know, weird and wild uncle or something. It’s hard to believe he’s gone.”

Carly didn’t want to talk about Gault. She kept it simple. “Yeah. It is.”

“Did you know that I’ve been working here for the past year? He hired me to manage the cabin bookings.”

What had happened to Gina’s Olympic dreams? Would it upset her to ask?

“Of course the cabins are closed now for the winter, but we’ve already been getting requests.” The tea kettle boiled and Gina hustled to the stove to turn off the burner. “I know this is a lot, but Gault said you’d be able to handle it.”

“Gee thanks, Gault,” Carly said drily. “I’m not so good at handling my own business, but other people’s, sure.”

Gina poured boiling water into two mugs, then handed her one.

“Do you still have Shrek?” Only Gina would name her favorite green canoe after an ogre.

A shadow fell across her face. “No, I sold him years ago. Do you know what you’re going to do with the Blue Drake?”

Quick change of subject. Clearly, there was a story there, one Gina didn’t want to talk about. Carly gripped the mug, feeling the heat of the water through the thick pottery. “I have no idea what to do with it. Sorry.”

Gina lifted one shoulder, as if trying to show she didn’t care. Carly didn’t really buy her nonchalant attitude. Gina had always been an outspoken person, which had gotten her into plenty of trouble. “I get it. You have a life. You don’t need this albatross.”

“I wouldn’t…”

Gina squinted at her, challenge in her eyes.

“Okay, it’s sort of an albatross. I mean, it doesn’t make much profit. Gault was the draw, all of his friends and connections. Without him…” Something caught at the back of her throat. She wrestled with it for a long moment. Damn, she hated how emotion kept ambushing her like this. How was she supposed to take care of business when she kept randomly losing it? “Well, I mean, it’s not much without him.”

“You really think so?” Wistfulness shaded Gina’s voice as she blew on her tea. “Well,” she said more lightly. “I’ll really miss the old place, and not just because of my paycheck. Lotta fun memories here.”

“We’ll always have that summer.” Carly sent her a naughty grin, because so much naughtiness had taken place that summer.

“Oooh, that summer.” Gina shivered happily. “One for the memory banks, no doubt. Speaking of that summer…”

She held up her phone and for one wild moment Carly was sure she was going to mention Thomas. She wanted her to.

No, she didn’t. The last thing she needed was a distraction like Thomas.

Yes, she did! She was dying to know if he was still here. If he was married. Single. Just in case, she’d looked him up on Facebook before she flew to Minneapolis. But she hadn’t found him.

“Guess who else is coming to help out?” Gina tilted her phone back and forth.

“Help out with what?”

“Whatever you need! Don’t you remember that blood vow we made? That we’d never abandon each other in our hour of greatest need?”

“We were kids. And we barely kept in touch after that.”

“A vow is a vow. Anyway, she’s on her way here. Texted me a few minutes ago.”

“Who is?”

“Me is!” A sassy voice chirped from the doorway that led to the club floor. “Or should it be ‘me am?’”

“Trixie Tran?”

Carly could barely believe her eyes. Trixie posed in the doorway like a cross between a vamp and a pixie. She wore her long hair in a swirl on top of her head, a silver mesh skirt, and over-the-knee boots. “I thought you were in Alaska.”

“I usually am. But this is a crisis. So I hitched up my dog sled and now I’m here. Kidding about the dog sled, obvi. It’s pony express for me.”

Trixie skipped toward Carly and, for the second time, she found herself enclosed in the fierce hug of friendship. No other hug was quite like the friend hug, she thought as she and Trixie rocked each other from side to side.

“So,” Trixie announced as they finally stepped back from each other. “I have fulfilled my blood vow, but I only have a week. I have to get back to Lost Harbor so I can open up my ice cream shop for the season. Where do we start?”

Carly stared blankly at her two friends. “I…” She had no idea where to start. Paperwork? Gault’s ancient computer? Hunting down the crotchety old fire marshal? “What time is it?”

“You aren’t going to try to open, are you?” asked Gina.

“No. Just wondering when it’s okay to declare it happy hour and pour out some Blue Drakinis.”

They all laughed, and she and Trixie did a backhanded low-five. “It’s like that summer never ended,” said Trixie.

But it had. A lot of things had ended.

“I heard about Brooke,” she said softly, and a moment of silence followed among the three of them.

Gault had called her when she was on tour with her mother and delivered the news that Brooke, that rich-girl rebel, had died while giving birth to a baby. A baby! That didn’t make any sense. Brooke was supposed to be causing mayhem at her boarding school, not getting knocked up.

“So terrible.” Gina shook her curly head. “I still think about her all the time.”

“I didn’t even hear about it until a year later.” Trixie’s pixie face sobered. “Poor Brooke. Does anyone know what happened to her baby?”

“I always figured her parents raised the baby in the Twin Cities,” said Carly. “I think Gault told me they were planning to.”

Gina was looking back and forth between the two of them. “Are you saying you don’t know what happened?”

Carly just shook her head helplessly.

“No! No one tells me anything,” Trixie complained. “It’s not like Alaska is that far away. What happened?”

“Well…” Suddenly Gina covered her mouth with her hand. “Shit. I swear I thought you both knew.” Her gaze traveled to Carly with an air of guilt. “I know this topic is banned, but…”

A chill shivered through her.

“The baby…well, it’s Thomas Cooper’s. And he’s a boy. The baby, I mean, not Thomas. Thomas is a man now. Also, since I’m sure you saw the order on the door, I should probably tell you that he’s the fire marshal.”

The Blue Drake chambermaids didn’t have a uniform, but they were asked to wear white. Each of the five girls interpreted that in their own way. On the second day of work, when Brooke wore a white silk chemise dress to clean cabins, Carly and the others cornered her.

“This job is the absolute pits. Why do you even want it?” Kendra demanded. “I wanted a break from working in the kitchen with my dad, that’s my reason.”

“And my father wouldn’t let me tend bar, being sixteen and all,” said Carly. “So unfair.”

“And I like spying on people’s stuff.” Trixie gave an evil grin.

“And I like the hours because I can train after we’re done,” Gina added. “So what’s your excuse? You don’t even need to work.”

“I do if I want to depend on myself and not D.O.D.”

“What’s D.O.D?”

“Dastardly old dictator, AKA my dad.” Brooke laughed and twirled her feather duster. “He loooooves my new job. It’s so fun to hear him tell my relatives that I’m ‘learning the ropes of the hospitality industry.’”

Kendra crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “So you’re slumming it to piss off your daddy. Good to know.”

“No.” Brooke’s crystal blue eyes widened. She had a classic Nordic look, kind of long and slim and cool and nonchalant—until she started talking. Then she was pure Viking warrior. “I mean, maybe a little. But so what? I’ll work just as hard as anyone. And I know judo.”

“Judo?” They all glanced at each other in confusion. Was that supposed to win them over?

“Yeah, in case any pervy guests try to corner us while we’re working. I’m ready to kick some ass.” She performed a backwards kick that knocked over a wastepaper basket, fortunately empty.

Carly laughed at her, with her fighting stance and her silk dress. “This isn’t some five-star hotel. The guests are always out fishing or canoeing.”

“Well…” Brooke relaxed her posture and seemed to cast around for something else to offer. “Our cook makes amazing sugar-free donuts. I can bring some every morning and we can dip them in caramel. That’s what I do. I’m trying to put on some weight.”

“To piss off your dad?” Kendra still wore a skeptical look.

“Mom.”

They all laughed at that.

Brooke Kendall, donut provider, rebel, and carefree inventor of pranks to pull on the guests. But she was wrong about one thing. She didn’t work as hard as everyone else. She worked harder…except when she would curl up in her bunk and beg off for the day. They always covered for her, but she never really explained what was wrong. That was just Brooke. Their Brooke. One of them, from now on.

two

“Boss, we’re out of that chrome polish you like. Want me to order some more?”

Thomas Cooper glanced across the apparatus bay toward the young rookie nervously twisting his polishing rag in his hands. “Good idea. Do you know where we order it from?”

“Uh…Amazon?” the kid ventured.

Why’d you offer to order it if you don’t even know where we get it?

Thomas double-checked to make sure he hadn’t expressed his irritation out loud. Nope. Brick was still gazing at him with a mix of hope and terror. All that because of some chrome polish? Was Thomas really so intimidating?

Of course he was. He was a six-foot-four-inch, two hundred and forty pound man with skin several shades darker than the usual Minnesota pale. People tended to get intimidated, especially when he was their supervisor.

The only one not intimidated was Furball, because he was a shaggy mutt who liked to follow Thomas around as if he was the one in charge. Maybe he was, because otherwise all that dog hair would have gotten him booted.

“I’ll take care of it,” he finally said. He beckoned the rookie over and handed him the hose. “You finish the ladder truck.”

It was a more appropriate job for a rookie anyway. The only reason Thomas was doing it was that every once in a while he liked to make sure it was done properly. More properly than the already very-proper standards he’d drilled into his crew.

So he was meticulous and a perfectionist. Sue him. That was how firehouses should be. That was how lives were protected.

“Sure thing, boss.” With zeal, Brick aimed the hose at the ladder truck. A little too much zeal; water sprayed Thomas along one side of his face.

He strode away, wiping off his face, after giving the rookie a “don’t worry about it” gesture. He was a firefighter, after all. Water was his weapon. Not only that, he swam two miles a day in Lake Bittersweet before work every day. He loved the water. Maybe that was because water was the only really fluid thing in his life. He kept every other part of his life structured and strict. He had to.

Steve Gault used to lecture him about that. “That kid of yours is going to go hard against you if you don’t give him some slack. I see that rebel look about him.”

“My son is not your problem. Worry about your fire extinguishers, not my kid.”

“I’m throwing it in as a bonus. You see any of my kids around?”

“Nope.”

“That’s how you know what I’m talking about. It’s the rebel in them.”

Your kids aren’t around because you never really wanted them to be and you’re a crap parent. Thomas had had to double-check to make sure he hadn’t said that out loud, too. He’d had to do that a lot around Steve Gault. The man had been infuriating.

“Just recharge those fire extinguishers. You have one week.”

“Power corrupts, young Thomas Cooper. Power corrupts.”

Old Steve Gault. Weirdly, after all their baggage, Thomas was going to miss him. But at least he could finally shut down the Blue Drake for good. That place was such a fire hazard it kept him up nights.

He nodded to the firefighter currently checking the oxygen tanks in the apparatus bay. She was new to the Lake Bittersweet fire department, and so far, hadn’t caused any trouble. She worked efficiently, checking the charge on each tank. “Looking good, Swain,” he told her.

She flushed a brick-red color. “Thank you so much, Chief Cooper. Thank you.”

It’s a word of praise, not a million dollars.

Not out loud. Whew. It was truly amazing how much he had to bite his tongue ever since he’d become the fire chief of Lake Bittersweet. Or maybe it had started when he’d become a father. Or when he’d had to battle the Kendalls for the right to raise his own child. Keeping his thoughts to himself had become so ingrained, sometimes he wondered if he’d ever be able to speak freely again.

Someone was in his office, he saw as he swung through the door. A woman stood near his desk, scanning the official photos of him and his crew. She wore the kind of expensive wool coat that marked her as an out-of-towner. The locals generally wore more rugged outerwear in case they broke down in the snow. Her shiny brown hair was pulled back in a careless ponytail at the base of her neck. Was it a little off-center? It was, and thanks to his meticulous eye, now he wanted to adjust it as if it was an out-of-alignment hose.

“Can I help you?” he asked, causing her to swing around to face him.

He stopped in his tracks.

Jesus take the wheel. It was Carly Gault. No one else had eyes that particular shade of smoky green, like the deep part of the lake where the pine trees cast their shadows.

“Carly.”

“Thomas.”

The way she spoke his name had always stroked a soft thrill up his spine. She said it as if it meant something to her, as if it was more than just a name.

But this time she spit it out like a bad pumpkin seed.

“I’m sorry about your father.”

He didn’t say any more than that, because it would take days or weeks to really communicate everything there was to say about Steve Gault. Also, he knew how complicated their relationship had been, and he had no idea what she was feeling right now. Her face didn’t give him any clues. She looked so different from how he remembered her, so grown-up and glamorous. No more bare feet and torn cutoffs for her.

“Thanks,” she said briefly. His instinct was right. She didn’t want to talk about Gault. “So you work here? You’re a fireman?”

“Fire chief.”

“Fire chief. That sounds important.”

Alarm bells were clanging hard. She was pissed. He remembered the signs. The flush high on her cheeks, the tightening of her full lips.

“And also the fire marshal?”

“I wear a few hats. Yes. Fire marshal’s one of them.” He realized why she must be here—of course—and braced himself for an argument.

“So what should I call you? Chief Cooper? Marshal Cooper?”

“Thomas is fine.”

“For old times’ sake? No, thanks. I’ll stick with Chief Cooper.” She lifted her chin in a challenging tilt that set off lots of teenage alarm bells. ”But for old times’ sake, why don’t you tell me why you want to shut down the Blue Drake.”

Take a breath. Be professional. “I can provide you with a list of the violations that need to be corrected before I can clear the Drake to reopen.

“A list of violations. Interesting choice of words.”

Her smoky green eyes flared and man-oh-man, she was just as beautiful as ever, but different—more polished, more guarded.

“We’ve been writing up the Blue Drake for one thing or another for years. Gault never took it seriously.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” She took off her gloves and stuck them in one pocket of her coat. Hunter green suede. Expensive-looking.

“It sounded more like a bunch of accusations than a question. I’m just a fire marshal trying to keep the town safe.” He walked past her to his desk, giving her a wide berth. He didn’t want to test to see if their old chemistry would flare up if he came within two feet of her. Best not to give it the chance.

After locating the paperwork for the Blue Drake, he handed it to her. “Twenty-one current violations. That should keep you busy for a while. Until they’re fixed, the place is going to have to stay closed.”

And he wouldn’t be sad about that. Most of the emergency calls they fielded were connected somehow to the Blue Drake. Things would be a lot more peaceful around here if it stayed closed.

She scanned the list. “This is bullshit, Thomas. Thirty inches of clearance for the breaker box? Half the restaurants in Minnesota are probably built just like this one.”

“I’m only responsible for the ones around here. You need five more inches of clearance. That’s the code. I didn’t write it. I just enforce it.”

She glanced up and narrowed her eyes at him. “You do want us to shut down.”

“That’s not my call.”

“You’re the one who shut it down.”

“Because of all the violations.”

“There’s that word again.”

Jesus, what was she talking about? He clenched his jaw to hold back all the thoughts that wanted to flow out. In the past, with her, he’d let them come. Not anymore. “This isn’t personal, Carly.”

“I guess you’re right, for it to be personal we’d have to have a personal relationship and we definitely do not have that.”

All those times he’d fantasized about seeing Carly again, and none had gone remotely like this.

He had to stick to business here and not get drawn into emotion. He gestured at the file he’d given her. “There’s a backlog because things have been a little neglected. If you like, I can give you the names of some contractors.”

“That’s interesting. You flag the violations, then recommend your friends to fix them?”

Ouch. She had a point, but that was how things went in a small town. There were only so many workers around. Hang onto your cool. “I can recommend some enemies instead.”

One corner of her mouth quivered in a smile, but she pressed her lips together to hold it back.

“Look, Carly—” He stopped. He’d dreamed about what to say to her if he ever saw her again. In detail. With very well-organized bullet points. But now that she was here, all of that evaporated from his brain. “Sorry.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “About?”

All of it? None of it? Maybe it was better to steer away from the past. That would be a trip straight to catastrophe. “I’m not out to make trouble for you or the Blue Drake. I’m not your problem.”

She threw up her hands. “You’re right about that. Want to know what’s a problem? What do I do with twenty different purple stovepipe hats? Also, why does the sign look like it says the Blue Dick? And should I keep it that way?”

Out of nowhere, he burst into laughter. A long belly laugh that he couldn’t rein in. The strange thing was that he wasn’t even sure why he was laughing. Maybe because Carly had always made him laugh without even trying.

He stopped when he saw that three of his crew members stood in the doorway, their expressions ranging from astonishment to confusion. Brick the rookie held up his cellphone, as if he was recording the strange sight of Chief Cooper howling with laughter.

“No,” Thomas told him firmly, and the phone quickly disappeared. “This is Carly Gault, Steve Gault’s daughter. Carly, this is the Lake Bittersweet fire department, Shift A.”

“Hi everyone.” Carly’s face still held a flush of pink. Between that and the shine of her green eyes, he had a sudden memory of their long nights of kissing in the Mallard Cabin. She’d emerged from his arms looking like this—glowy and dreamy and beautiful.

The crew answered with a chorus of condolences about her father, then drifted back to their various tasks.

“Is it my imagination, or did they look shocked to see you laughing?” she asked.

“I usually maintain a more professional demeanor. They might have been a little surprised.”

“You used to laugh plenty.”

That was because of her, but he wasn’t going to head down that road. “When I’m on the job I hold myself to a certain standard. Now. About that write-up. I’m sorry, Carly, but it’s just the way it is. I promise it’s not personal. I didn’t even know you were coming here.”

She let out a long sigh. “Believe me, I didn’t, either. I assumed I could hire someone to take care of everything. I don’t even know why Gault named me as his executor. It makes no sense.”

He didn’t know either; it seemed reckless on Gault’s part. Once Carly started looking into Gault’s affairs, who knew what might jump out. He could think of one very important thing right off the bat.

“One of the names on my list, well, full disclosure, it’s my son.”

Her eyes flew to meet his. He couldn’t read her expression. Obviously she must know about Danny and Brooke and the whole long-ago story. Around here it had been big news, and Steve Gault loved to share gossip.

“I included his name because most of the carpenters are booked up this time of year, but he’s a kid and can use the money. I swear he knows what he’s doing. He should, I trained him myself.”

Various undecipherable expressions flittered across her face. He tried to read her, but failed completely. In the old days, she’d been an open book. He’d always been able to sense her mood. She hadn’t hidden any of her feelings from him. She’d even gotten him to be more like her and bare his heart on occasion.

Obviously, those days were long gone.

“What’s his name?” she asked, neutrally.

“Danny. He’s sixteen and he’s smart. Good at math, good with his hands. He has a summer job lined up, but it doesn’t start until after school’s out.”

There was so much more he could tell her about Danny, but he didn’t know what she cared to hear.

Nothing much, apparently, because she drew herself back into the poised, confident posture she’d first appeared in. Whatever they’d had in the past, it was long gone. It would be smart of him to remember that and not get caught up in her smoky eyes and quirky beauty. She’d never considered herself beautiful, but he had. To him, she had something unique and uncommon. Even though her younger sister was the knockout, Carly had always been the one he couldn’t look away from.