If the Summer Lasted Forever

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly concerned.

  “Nothing.” She steps away, and Mark’s arms fall to his sides. “Just a typical Monday. Hi, Landon.”

  “Hey, Mrs. Morrison.”

  “Cassie is fine,” she says, cracking a smile.

  “What happened?” I prod, not about to let her avoid the question.

  She rolls her shoulders. “I mixed up spaces and sent a couple to an occupied site. Instead of letting me know, they chose their own. Thirty minutes later, I sent another couple to that spot, and it created all kinds of chaos.”

  “We fixed it,” Mark adds.

  I frown. “Did you use my laminated campground chart? Maybe I forgot to mark off the spot. I should probably go through it and double check it for current occupancy.” I’m already tugging away from Landon, heading toward the office.

  “I just forgot to look at it,” she says, brushing it off. Then she changes the subject. “Where are you two headed?”

  “We’re going out for hamburgers,” Landon says.

  I glance in the direction of the office. “I should probably take a quick look—”

  Mom laughs in a frustrated way. “Lacey, it’s fine.”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I finally nod.

  “Go,” she says, making shooing motions with her hands.

  Giving in—but not necessarily happy about it—I let Landon lead me away.

  We make the unspoken agreement to walk. It’s a good trek to Main Street, but it’s a beautiful day with a cool breeze, and we have sundaes to work off before I’ll be able to eat again.

  Landon still has my hand, and we walk side by side, in no rush.

  “I have a weird question, but I don’t know how you’ll take it,” he says after several minutes.

  I give him a questioning look.

  “Would you be upset if your mom and uncle ever got together?”

  “They’re not together.”

  He gently tugs me back when I try to yank away. “But would it bother you if they were?”

  My mom wouldn’t do that to my dad, and neither would Uncle Mark. Doesn’t anyone get that? It would be a betrayal to his memory. Who makes a move on their dead brother’s widow? Just…ew.

  “They’re really good friends,” I explain again. “And Mark is like a dad to me, but I swear their relationship isn’t like that.”

  “Okay.”

  That’s all he says. Just “okay.” Which is a little obnoxious because I know it means he doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t want to argue.

  “It’s not.”

  Landon laughs, shaking his head. “I believe you, Lacey. I was just asking.”

  And I let it go because I like the way he says my name, like we’re close. Like I’m his, and he’s mine, and we’re actually together.

  “Where has the best burgers?” he asks, putting the previous conversation behind us.

  But even though we’ve changed the subject, my mind stays on his question. I remember the way Mom was leaning into Mark for comfort, and I’m plagued with niggling doubts.

  But she wouldn’t do that to Dad. I know it.

  ***

  A glop of sticky, white paint runs down the split rail fence that separates the campground from the road. I mop up my mess with a big, fat brush I found in the back shed.

  Yesterday, I noticed the fence was looking a little shabby. Since it’s the first thing people see when they pull up, I decided it needed a fresh coat. Mark said the project has been on his to-do list for months, but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet.

  “You realize it’s the Fourth of July?” Paige calls as she walks up the road from the direction of her family’s property. A gust of wind tosses her long hair in front of her eyes and kicks up leaves and dirt.

  Unfortunately, those leaves stick to my fence.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, plucking bits of debris out of the wet paint.

  “They canceled the fireworks due to the wind,” my friend informs me as she stops in front of the fence and admires my work. “You missed a spot.”

  Normally, I would tell her to grab a brush, but I haven’t seen her in days, and I’m reluctant to put her to work. “I thought they might,” I say, referring to the fireworks. Then I realize she’s alone. “Where’s Tanner?”

  She bites back a besotted grin and stares at the fence with a dreamy expression that worries me. “His family drove to Telluride for the weekend. They’re supposed to be back Monday.”

  “Whatever are you going to do with all your free time?”

  “I’m going to fetch a paintbrush because it’s obvious you’re rubbish at this.”

  I roll my eyes, but I’m glad for the help, so I don’t argue. What started as a simple project has grown. The fence seems to be getting longer. At this rate, I’m not sure I’ll ever finish.

  “Take a break,” Paige says. “Help me find a brush.”

  Gladly, I set my own brush aside and stretch my back as I rise.

  “Where’s your fake boyfriend?” she asks as we make our way to the shed.

  “He’s helping his dad with video stuff. They’re having trouble with one of the computers.”

  Instead of answering, Paige nods to a patch of dirt near the gazebo. “Isn’t that a little Tillman? What’s he doing?”

  “He’s looking for gold.”

  Paige flashes me an incredulous look.

  “No, I’m serious. Caleb’s been completely obsessed since he found a book about it at our house when they first arrived. Somehow, he figured out that our gravel came from a local quarry, and he asked Uncle Mark if he could search through it to see if he can find something valuable. He’s been at it for days.”

  “Okay then…” Paige says, just as baffled as I am.

  “Hi, Hunter,” I call to Landon’s second youngest brother. The boy sits in the gazebo, poking at his phone, looking bored as can be. He must be on Caleb duty this afternoon. Watching the spirited eight-year-old is a full-time job, and everyone in the family takes turns.

  Hunter looks up and raises a listless hand in greeting before he goes back to his screen.

  “Find anything?” I ask Caleb.

  His head is bent over in extreme concentration, and he doesn’t stop sorting long enough to even look up. “Not yet.”

  “Well, good luck,” I call as we walk past.

  Still staring at the ground, he says, “Yep.”

  “I saw the Tillman’s latest video,” Paige says as we enter the shed.

  “Oh yeah?” I can’t quite bring myself to look at her, so I search for an extra brush instead.

  “You two look awfully couple-ish.”

  “That’s kind of the point.”

  “I thought maybe you had forgotten that point and dropped the fake in fake dating.”

  I remember how Landon told Evie he likes me, and my cheeks heat. Hopefully, Paige can’t tell in the dim light.

  “Nope.”

  “If you say so.” She spots a brush poking out from under a folded blue tarp and pulls it off the shelf. “This should work.”

  The rest of the afternoon passes quickly, and we somehow manage to finish the fence before dinner.

  As we’re cleaning up, Paige’s phone rings. “Hey,” she coos as soon as she answers.

  I wrinkle my nose.

  “Tanner,” she giggles, making me ill.

  Resisting the strong urge to gag, I finish cleaning the brushes as she talks, and then I rinse out the pan with a garden hose. Across the way, Mom and Uncle Mark catch my eye.

  Her hand is on his arm, and they’re awfully close. I freeze, feeling uneasy, but they split a moment later. Mark goes one way, and Mom heads the other.

  I shake my head, determined to believe I’m reading too much into things.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The oscillating fan on the counter does little to cool the hot office. After months of cold, fickle spring weather, summer decides to hit with a vengeance.

  The bells above the front door
chime, and in walk Greg and Hallie.

  “How’s the fishing?” I ask Greg.

  “It’s great—thanks again for the cabin on the water.”

  “No problem.” I set aside the newly printed stack of flyers advertising Saturday’s barbecue. Soon, I need to distribute them throughout the campground. If I have time, I might even go into town and hang them in shop windows. “What can I do for you guys?”

  Hallie stands next to Greg, reading the kids’ craft schedule. “You’re panning for gold Saturday?” she asks.

  Surprised she’s talking, I turn to her. “Sort of. We’re going to spray rocks with gold paint and hide them in a kiddie pool of sand. The kids will get to ‘pan’ for them, and then they can trade in their gold for little prizes or candy—kind of like the ticket system at arcades.”

  I found the idea online and was inspired by Caleb, who’s so obsessed with finding gold. Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t found anything valuable in our landscaping. (He did, however, catch a lizard that entertained him for half a day.)

  “That’s fun,” she says. “You put a lot of thought into your activities.”

  It’s why we charge “the big bucks,” as Uncle Mark jokes, but I don’t tell Hallie that. Everyone who stays here knows you get what you pay for.

  “Thanks. I think they’ll have a good time with it.“

  “We’re here for the pool code,” Greg says.

  “It’s open from seven to ten,” I tell them as I write down the five-digit number, glancing up when the door opens. Landon walks in but hangs back. He wears a small smile as he waits for me to finish with the Hendricks.

  I hand Hallie the number. “If you’re going in the next few hours, I’d be happy to watch Bark for you—I remember you saying he doesn’t like to be alone. Mom’s coming in for office duty shortly, and I was going to walk the campground and hand out flyers.”

  “Really?” Hallie asks.

  “Sure. He’s welcome to come with me.”

  “You guys really are awesome,” Hallie says with a laugh. I think she might finally be opening up. “I’ll bring him by in fifteen minutes. If it’s really all right.”

  “Of course.”

  Landon waits until they’re out the door before he ambles over, looking entirely too tempting in shorts and a T-shirt that’s just fitted enough to show a hint of muscle—a scrumptious hint.

  “Hi, Faux Boyfriend,” I say, teasing him…and reminding myself at the same time.

  “Hi to you too, Faux—” He cuts off abruptly as Mom walks into the office.

  She calls a greeting back to the Hendricks as she enters.

  “Hey, Landon,” she says, a big smile stretching across her face. Her hair is still down for the day—surprising considering how hot it is. “What are you guys up to this afternoon?”

  I hold up my new stack of flyers. “The Hendricks are going to bring Bark by, and we’re going to walk around the sites to hand these out.”

  “But I said you could have the afternoon off.” Mom frowns in the way that makes me feel bad for being too productive—which is weird.

  “It’s just walking—not exactly hard work,” I point out.

  Mom takes a flyer, and her eyebrows jump with surprise. “These are awesome. Did you make them?”

  “Landon designed them,” I say, flashing him a smirk. “I ate ice cream.”

  Mom turns toward Landon and beams. “At least you can get her to take time off.”

  “I do my best,” he says.

  Does he ever.

  She digs into her pocket and tries to hand several twenties to Landon. “Thank you for the design.”

  He steps back, refusing to take the money. “It was nothing.”

  “Use it to take my daughter out. Drive into the city and catch a movie or something.”

  Watching with wry amusement, I cross my arms. “Are you actually paying a guy to take me on a date? Thanks, Mom.”

  She grins and waves the bills at Landon, not about to back down. Apparently coming to the correct conclusion that she’s more stubborn than he is, Landon gives in and accepts the money, solemnly promising it will be spent on me very soon.

  Hallie shows up with Bark just as Landon pockets the bills. The Greyhound trots on his lead, right by Hallie’s side, and plops his rump down the moment she stops.

  “Are you sure he won’t be any trouble?” Hallie asks, dressed in a swimsuit and flip-flops, with a beach towel wrapped around her middle. “He can be rambunctious.”

  Bark stares at me, the picture of manners.

  “Positive,” I assure her.

  She thanks me again—many times. Before she leaves, she turns back. “Oh, watch out. He likes squirrels.”

  Thinking she’s joking, I laugh.

  Hallie widens her eyes and shakes her head. “No. He really likes squirrels.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I swear.

  Before she leaves, she kneels in front of Bark and tells him to be good. The dog wags his skinny tail.

  “Good boy,” she kisses his head, apparently as attached to him as McKenna is Candy, and finally walks out the door.

  “Whatever you do, don’t lose that dog,” Mom jokes as she sits at the desk, ready to do her time. I almost remind her to check my laminated chart before she assigns any sites, but I hold my tongue.

  “We’ll be fine.” I look down. “Won’t we, Bark?”

  He watches me with his adoring, liquid brown eyes.

  “See?”

  Landon offers to take the flyers, and he follows me out the door. Bark trots with us, perfect as can be.

  “That dog is putting Candy and George to shame,” Landon jokes.

  “He is really good, isn’t he?” I ask, and then I give Landon a nudge. “So, are you going to keep me company while I hand these out?”

  Landon slides his arm through mine, tugging me close to his side. “We have appearances to keep up, don’t we?”

  I tell myself that’s the candy-coated part of the already sweet deal. I get all the perks of dating Landon without any of the heartbreak. I just have to deny my heart is getting tangled up to believe it.

  “I see you have your camera,” I say when he pulls the device from his pocket and begins recording. I’ve seen his parents with a bigger one, one with a fluffy audio accessory and larger lenses. Landon seems partial to simplicity.

  He focuses it on me. “Never leave home without it.”

  I’m growing used to its constant presence.

  “Tell me, Lacey, what are we doing today?” he asks in an exaggerated voice.

  “Well, Landon, we’re going to hand out flyers for the barbecue.”

  “And who is walking with us?”

  I smile, loving the lighthearted way he handles his videos. Sometimes he’s a bit over-the-top—but in a completely endearing way. No wonder the family has so many subscribers. “This is Bark.”

  He films as we walk, switching to a natural, conversation mode for his viewers. We make our way through the campground, handing out flyers and chatting with people. The retirees like to talk in particular—especially to the camera.

  Some of them have been coming to the campground every summer for as long as I can remember. They dole out hugs when they first see me and tell me how “grown-up” I look. Then they focus on Landon’s camera, detailing every stop they’ve made from the moment they pulled out of our campground at the end of last summer to the day they returned. Not only does Landon not mind, but he nods as they talk, giving them his full attention.

  I’m standing here, most of the flyers distributed, listening to Mr. Pent tell us about the alligator they found underneath their Class A motorhome while they were snow-birding in Florida, when Bark spots a squirrel.

  “No!” I yell as Bark pulls a canine version of Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde and rips from my grasp, running down the camp road, chasing after the bushy-tailed rodent that’s barely evading him. “Bark!”

  I take off after him, flyers flying behind me, desperate to catch Halli
e Hendrick’s beloved dog. Even at his age, he’s crazy fast.

  Landon’s right behind me, and then he passes me completely, far quicker than I am since I’m in flip-flops. We race through the campground, through A Loop, through the thick brush to B Loop, and then the squirrel finally darts up a pine tree and disappears.

  Bark stops under the tree, leaping three feet into the air, trying to find a way up.

  I slow to a walk as soon as Landon grabs the dog’s leash and set my hands on my hips, gulping precious air. Apparently, I need to get more exercise.

  “Thank you,” I say to Landon as I attempt to catch my breath.

  Like an angel, Bark forgets about the squirrel, plops onto his haunches, and wags his tail, practically saying, “Aren’t I a good boy?”

  “You’re rotten,” I inform him.

  His tongue lolls out, and his tail wags faster.

  “You’re all scratched up,” Landon informs me, nodding to my legs.

  I glance down and find several minor white scratches along with a long one that’s oozing blood. “Oh, yuck. I must have caught myself in the bushes.”

  “Come on.” Landon’s already walking toward the office. “Let’s drop off the mighty squirrel hunter with your mom, and I’ll fix you up.”

  Ten minutes later, we’re in Landon’s camper, and he’s digging through the overhead cupboards while I try not to bleed on his mother’s cushions.

  “Where’s your family?” I ask, eyeing the white cat as she comes out of her hiding place so she can study me from the table. When I attempt to pet her, she steps just far enough away I can’t reach her and continues to stare.

  “They took the dogs on a hike.” Landon comes to the cupboard directly above me and rummages through it.

  “And why aren’t you hiking?” I ask, looking down so I’m not staring at his stomach.

  Finding what he’s looking for, he kneels in front of me, first aid kit in his hand. “Because I’m with you.”

  Butterflies flutter, but I ignore them. It’s just a side effect of being around Landon.

  “You ready for this?” he asks as he opens an antiseptic wipe. “I don’t know what brand these are, but they sting like no other.”