The Cottage at Firefly Lake

by Jen Gilroy

  “I said I’m fine.” Mia bit her bottom lip.

  With one last look at her sister, Charlie made her way out of the diner, its air-conditioned coolness giving way to the heat of the day.

  The squat, white clapboard diner anchored one end of Main Street, a tidy thoroughfare lined with old brick buildings and bisected by a pocket-sized village green. Pots of summer flowers brightened the sidewalk in front of each business. Mom-and-Pop businesses, which sons and daughters took over from their parents, generation after generation. Charlie turned right and headed up Main toward the park, the lake sparkling blue in the distance.

  Mia hadn’t lost her, at least not in the way she’d meant. But after seeing Sean again, Charlie understood with frightening clarity that somewhere along the way she’d lost herself. Lost the girl she’d once been.

  The girl who couldn’t wait to come here every summer and who’d ticked off the months on the calendar until it was June again. The girl who’d bounced on the backseat of the car in excitement and counted the familiar landmarks, each one bringing her closer to the lake, closer to Sean.

  The girl who stood up for what she believed in no matter what.

  And the girl who’d loved Sean Carmichael with all her heart and couldn’t imagine a future without him in it.

  Sean had driven the curving highway that edged Firefly Lake hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. But each time he hit the flat stretch where it narrowed into Lake Road, the town of Firefly Lake sheltered in the scoop of the lake the first settlers had called a harbor, his grip on the wheel relaxed and warmth flooded his chest. This was home. The place he was meant to be.

  The place where four generations of his family slept in the graveyard nestled at the foot of the hill. Where he’d gone in and out of friends’ houses like they were his own. And where people still looked out for each other, and a man’s word was his bond.

  He eased his foot off the accelerator and the green, vintage MG convertible he’d spent two years restoring slowed. Cruising by the sign that said WELCOME TO FIREFLY LAKE, POPULATION 2500, HOMETOWN OF NHL ALL-STAR LUC SIMARD, he turned right into Main Street. It divided the town in half and ran in a straight line from the lakeshore and Old Harbor Park at one end to the railroad tracks at the other.

  Idling behind an SUV with a Quebec license plate, towing a sailboat, Sean tapped his fingers to a Lady Antebellum song on the radio and glanced at the park. A white-painted bandstand sat in the middle, and at the far end, beyond the tennis courts, playground, and kiddie pool, sat the Firefly Lake Marina, a clutch of buildings that hugged the lakeshore.

  As far back as he could remember, his dad had owned the small marina outside town, which handled canoe and motorboat rentals. Buying the business in town six months earlier had given Carmichael’s access to sailboat and cabin-cruiser people who had serious money to spend.

  After the SUV turned off to the marina, Sean continued along Main Street, past Mario’s Pizza, Tremblay & Sons Plumbing and Heating, the Firefly Lake Craft Gallery, the Daily Bread Bakery, and Len’s Hardware. He slid the MG into an empty parking space between the Cozy Corner Craft Shoppe and McGuire and Pelletier’s law office and cut the engine.

  Halfway out of the car, a prickle of awareness slid through him. The door of the law office swung open and Charlie came out. In a blue T-shirt and white pants, she was all lush curves and sweet femininity. And she tempted him in a way he hadn’t been tempted in a very long time.

  “Charlotte.” His voice was tight as he forced himself to use her new name. The name that felt wrong on his lips for the woman who, despite all logic, still tugged at the deepest part of him and chipped at the barriers he’d put up around his heart.

  “Sean.” She pulled the sunglasses on top of her head onto the bridge of her nose, hiding her eyes.

  She looked cool and fresh, but with a sexy twist that made Sean remember how her mouth had opened under his and she’d melted into him, the heat in the kiss they’d shared and how, with only a single honeyed taste of her mouth, the same almost-out-of-control desire had sparked between them.

  Which meant he’d wanted to go farther, to slide a hand beneath her shirt and touch her soft skin. Swing her into his arms and take her back into the woods like he had so many times before.

  No, he was an adult. He wanted to take her back to his big, empty bed and make love to her until he got the wanting her out of his system once and for all. But she’d pulled away and stopped him from making an even bigger fool of himself.

  He slammed the car door. “What are you up to?”

  She gave him a tentative smile. “Running some errands.”

  “McGuire and Pelletier are handling the legal side of the cottage sale?”

  “They’re still the only attorneys in town.” She shifted, and rested her weight on her right side. “I see somebody started a petition.” She pulled Trevor’s flyer off one of the wrought-iron lampposts the town had installed at intervals along Main Street, a nod to Firefly Lake’s nineteenth-century heritage.

  “So?” He eyeballed her. “You always talked about power to the people.”

  Charlie tilted her head to one side, the way she used to when she was getting ready to argue with him. “There’s the Inn on the Lake, lots of bed-and-breakfasts, the motel out by the highway. What difference does one more place make?” She pushed her hair away from her face, distracting Sean with the sweet curve of her jaw and luscious outline of her lips. “It’s the summer people who keep a town like Firefly Lake alive.”

  Sean clenched his jaw and forced himself to ignore the kissable dent in her chin. “That one more place, as you put it, is one too many. It’s the people who live here all year, the true Vermonters, who give Firefly Lake its heart and soul.”

  “The fact that this resort would be next to Carmichael’s doesn’t have anything to do with it?” Charlie pulled off her sunglasses. “That’s the real reason you don’t want the development, isn’t it? If the resort was going to be built somewhere else, you wouldn’t bother with petitions.” She crumpled the flyer and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

  “That developer isn’t putting in a marina?” Sean stared her down.

  “They’re still working on the plans.” Charlie stared back, unflinching. She’d never been a girl who backed away.

  “I have a business to run and I can’t…” The hairs on the back of Sean’s neck raised and he turned. His mom and Trevor’s wife hovered in front of the Cozy Corner Craft Shoppe, next door to the law office. His sister-in-law gave him a slow smile, and his mom pushed her glasses up her nose.

  “Sean?” His mom reached his side in three brisk strides. “With Charlie?” His mom was seventy-two, her once-blond hair silver, her gait slower, but she still didn’t miss much. For an instant, Sean was a kid again, caught sneaking a cookie before dinner.

  “Mrs. Carmichael.” Charlie pasted a bright smile on her face. The smile she’d always used to hide what she thought and felt. She clasped his mom’s hand and leaned in to kiss her.

  His mom kissed Charlie back, a stiff grazing of cheeks. “You remember Linnie?” She turned to the redhead at her side.

  “Sure I do.” Charlie’s expression softened, and there was a warmth in her voice that hadn’t been there before. “Linnie and I were partners in crime way back.”

  “Holy terrors is more like it. Your mothers used to despair over what the two of you got up to.” His mom darted another glance at Linnie. “Linnie settled right down, though, and she and Trevor have been married going on nineteen years.”

  “It’s great to see you again.” Charlie hugged Linnie.

  “You too.” Linnie returned the hug. “It’s been a real long time. Too long.”

  “Yeah.” Charlie stepped away. “I’m sorry—I meant to keep in touch, but…” She stopped and fingered the tiny gold heart on the chain around her neck.

  “Well, you’re here now. Maybe we should ring a few doorbells and run for old times’ sake.” Linnie’s voice was amused.
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  “What are you two doing here?” Although Sean loved Firefly Lake, at times like this he wished it were a bit bigger and a lot more anonymous.

  “It’s Wednesday,” his mom said. “You know I have craft and chat on Wednesdays.” She pointed to the craft shop, where colorful balls of yarn were piled high in the front window. “Linnie led a quilting demonstration this week.” She turned to Charlie. “She made two quilts last winter. Even though she has four girls to look after and a part-time job.”

  “Linnie, you always were good at crafts.” Charlie chuckled. “Remember when I tore my jeans climbing out the window of the shed behind your folks’ place? You sewed them up so neatly, my mom never noticed.”

  Linnie’s smile was crooked. “If I wasn’t getting into trouble with you, I was getting you out of it.”

  “Now you’re a quilter. That must be relaxing.”

  To Sean’s surprise, Charlie sounded like she meant it.

  “It is.” Linnie’s hazel eyes glowed. “I’m working on a double wedding ring pattern. That one’s complicated, but if you’re here for a while, I could get you started on a pillow cover or a small wall picture. It’d be fun and we…”

  Sean shot her a warning glance and Linnie stopped. Her face reddened, and she looked at her sandals.

  “I was sorry to hear about your mother,” his mom said. “I never see that cottage without thinking of her sitting on the porch or playing her piano, you and your sister singing along. Beatrice sure loved it here.”

  “Yeah, she did.” Charlie’s eyes were two dark pools of pain, and her jaw twitched, the nervous tic Sean remembered from when she was a kid.

  “Your grandfather McKellar built that place. He was a banker in Montreal and he had money enough. He could have hired somebody, but no, he wanted to do it for his family. Every board, every nail that went into it was put there by Andrew McKellar’s hands.” His mom’s lips tightened. “I hope you and Mia know what you’re doing, all those big plans I hear the two of you have.”

  “Mom.” Sean flicked a glance at Charlie, who’d grabbed the lamppost and held on like her life depended on it.

  “I’m not saying anything different from what other folks are saying. People around here respect tradition, community, and family.” In her pink blouse and white skirt, his mom looked as fragile as one of the china figurines she’d collected since she was a girl. But the set to her jaw and edge in her voice belied that fragility. “Neighborliness is a way of life in the Kingdom, and for all he wasn’t born and raised here, Charlie’s grandfather knew that.”

  And his descendants didn’t. Or they’d forgotten and it was his mom’s duty to remind them.

  Sean glanced at Charlie again. Her face grew whiter by the second, her dark eyelashes and brows standing out in stark contrast. An old, almost-forgotten urge to protect her, to help her, vied with the need to keep his distance. “Everyone’s wondering what will happen with the Gibbs cottage, Mom, but there’s no need to get personal.”

  His mom’s shoulders slumped, hurt flashed in her blue eyes, and the lines between her nose and mouth deepened. “No offense intended.”

  Charlie wet her lips with her tongue, the sensual gesture sending heat straight to Sean’s groin. “None taken.”

  “Ready to go, Ellen?” Linnie’s eyes met Sean’s gaze in wordless sympathy before she took his mom’s arm in a firm grip. “See you around, Charlie.” She shepherded his mom along Main Street toward the bakery, since his mom always stopped at the Daily Bread for cinnamon buns after craft and chat.

  Sean let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Charlie had destroyed his trust and turned his world upside down. Now she could change the place he loved and his family’s livelihood.

  Change him too, because painful as it was to admit, she’d already gotten under his skin.

  So he’d stood up for her against his mom, caved as soon as Charlie got that vulnerable look on her face, the look he could never resist.

  Chapter Four

  Your mom hasn’t changed much,” Charlie said in that clipped voice Sean couldn’t connect with her. The Charlotte voice spoke of the person she’d become, all the places she’d seen. How far away from Firefly Lake she’d gone. She shoved her sunglasses back onto the bridge of her nose.

  “She loved your mom. They were friends, way back.” Until their friendship had ended without him ever knowing why. No more phone calls or visits on the front porch, no more Christmas cards even. Beatrice Gibbs had disappeared from his mom’s life like Charlie had disappeared from his.

  He exhaled, anger with his mother coupled with anger at himself. The Gibbs cottage was personal. What had possessed him to go out on a limb for Charlie?

  She gave him a sad smile. “Talking about Mom gets to me. I still…I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  Despite his anger, Sean’s heart clenched at the pain in her face. “I feel the same way about my dad.” The loss that caught him when he least expected and tore his guts out. Which meant he still hadn’t gone through all his dad’s files or old handwritten invoices.

  “It’s tough.” Her voice was soft.

  “I liked your mom. For all she was quiet, she was smart and funny and she sure loved her music. And she was real stylish. Mom and my sisters always talked about her clothes. She looked like she stepped out of some fashion magazine, that’s what they said.”

  “Mom liked you too.” Charlie surprised him. She gestured to his tennis whites. “I better get going and leave you to your game.”

  “Going where?”

  “I’m meeting Mia and her girls at the car over by the park.” She tugged on her shoulder bag and pulled out a key ring, which drew Sean’s attention to the enticing swell of her breasts. Breasts that had fit into his hands like they belonged there. “Playing tennis with anybody I might know?”

  “Nick McGuire.”

  “The lawyer?” She swiveled to the law office, gold letters across the front window.

  “The same. He came back from New York City last winter.”

  “The two of you are friends?”

  “Sure. We play hockey in the winter and tennis in the summer.” He grinned. “I kick his ass most of the time.”

  “You and Nick were never friends before. He—”

  “Lived in one of the big houses on the hill. Graduated from Yale Law School and one of his sisters went to Harvard.” Sean’s phone vibrated and he dug in the pocket of his shorts, pulling it out.

  “I’m not judging you. It never mattered to me where you lived or what your dad did for a living.”

  “It mattered to your dad, though, didn’t it? It mattered I lived on the mill side of town, my family built boats, and none of us were headed for college, let alone the Ivy League.” His tone was harsher than he’d intended. Dr. Gibbs was dead. He couldn’t look down on Sean ever again. And Sean wasn’t still the boat guy and golf caddie Dr. Gibbs had ordered around.

  Charlie stood there and fiddled with her keys as he read the text from Nick apologizing for having to bail on their tennis match.

  “I’m proud of Carmichael’s, I always was, and I wanted to make a success of it. But your dad would have been thrilled if you’d hung around with a guy like Nick instead of me.”

  “I doubt it.” Her smile teased him. “Nick’s two years older than us. If he’d been hanging around anyone, it would have been Mia. His family had money, sure, but whether he deserved it or not, he had that bad-boy reputation. You remember that motorcycle of his? Mia says she doesn’t, but I do.”

  Despite himself, Sean laughed. “You said my mom hasn’t changed, but from the sounds of it, Mia hasn’t changed much either.”

  Charlie laughed too, throaty, sexy, and endearing. “She hasn’t.” Her gaze locked with his and, despite her dark glasses, something sparked between them. Something hot and elemental that stripped away the years, the hurt, and the betrayal to leave Sean’s heart raw and exposed.

  “Listen.” He hesitated, his usual cool logic ba
ttling with something else, that reckless something Charlie had always stirred in him. “Nick is standing me up. Some crisis with a client.” His blood pounded in his ears. “I’ve booked a court and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. You want to play some tennis?”

  “Tennis?” She jerked back.

  He stepped forward and narrowed the space between them again. “You were an ace tennis player. Since you seem set on forgetting everything about this place, I think it’s time you remembered. Don’t you?” He paused, quirked an eyebrow, and tried to hide a grin before he went for the kill. “Unless you’re afraid of a little competition.”

  “Competition?” Charlie’s voice hummed along Sean’s nerve ends, and the wind caught her hair and whipped it across her face. With the chocolate-brown tendrils brushing her jaw, she looked more like the girl he remembered. The one who’d starred in all his teenage fantasies; the one he was still aware of in a way he’d never been aware of any other woman.

  “Only for fun.” Sean damped down the tug of desire. “Seeing as you’re not dressed for tennis.”

  “These are yoga pants. They’re fine for tennis.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “My shoes are tennis shoes.” She paused. “But like I told you, I’m meeting Mia and the girls.”

  “The courts are still over by the parking lot in Old Harbor Park. Besides, your sister was never on time for anything.” He waited, his heart pounding. In business he’d learned it didn’t pay to rush, not if you wanted to close the deal.

  Sure, they weren’t on the same side about the cottage, but he felt bad about what had happened to her. There was also that connection between them. It defied logic but made him want to spend time with her, maybe have some fun.

  “I can’t run around a tennis court. Not yet.” Her smile disappeared. “At least not like I used to.”

  “Aw, Charlie.” He winced with what the admission cost her. “Are you up to volleying, then? Best of five.” He looked at her sideways. “I’ll do most of the work. You used to like that fine.”