Karan braked to slow her descent and maneuver a switchback curve, enjoying the way the sun dappled the road through the overhead trees. She had a flash of memory of how much this road had once felt like coming home. It had been one of the reasons she and Charles had decided to buy a place so close to Karan’s parents. She liked the welcoming feeling, and he’d liked the idea of being close to family.
Of course, her father had been alive then.
And she and Charles had been in love then.
“Let’s just say things didn’t go as expected,” Karan said. “You will never guess who’s a director at New Hope.”
“Not someone else who has it in for you, I hope.”
“Charles.”
“Your Charles?”
Karan chuckled. “That’s exactly what my mother said. Yes, I’m afraid. My ex—Charles.”
“Oh, you really are in hell.”
“Officially. Jack set me up, Suze. I know it. That rat. Mr. Police Chief probably felt the need to pound his chest and entertain his new wife by torturing her high school nemesis. Honestly. Don’t you think there should be some sort of statute of limitations on retribution?”
“That’s silly. Jack was trying to help you out. Are you sure he knew about Charles’s affiliation?”
“Quite sure.”
“Then he probably thought you were better off with Charles than Judge Jenny. That’s all.”
Karan gave a harrumph, unwilling to concede the point yet unwilling to argue. While she had dated Jack, her involvement with the man had ended in college. Susanna, on the other hand, had married her high school sweetheart, Skip, who had happened to be Jack’s best friend. That friendship had lasted right until Skip had died from non-Hodgkins lymphoma barely three years ago.
“Let’s move past Jack,” Susanna coaxed. “I want to hear everything about Charles.”
Karan knew exactly what Susanna was trying to do. She was too firmly entrenched with Bluestone Mountain society nowadays to be comfortable with this little trip down memory lane. She worked for Jack’s wife. Maybe not technically, but they both worked for the same management company, so they inhabited the same workspace forty-plus hours a week. Susanna didn’t want to discuss anything to do with Frankie Cesarini. And as Karan was on a time frame, she conceded with a sigh and let her best friend win this round.
CHAPTER SIX
“MAN, IT’S A DIFFERENT WORLD out here,” Charles whispered into the morning calm, his voice the embodiment of contentment.
The words were out of his mouth before he could catch them, inviting a reply and intruding on this alternate reality, where the only sounds were from nature. The forest buffered civilization, and though Charles knew Route 42 was out there somewhere, all he could hear was the current splashing over rocks and lapping the hull of the boat as this mountain tributary rushed toward the river.
The sun had been steadily rising. The light filtered through the trees on the riverbank and shone off the water, making him peel away a layer of clothing as the early-morning chill yielded to a perfect summer day.
Charles supposed he had Karan to thank since she’d introduced him to hiking on Devil’s Path so long ago.
Karan?
The thought of her came at him sideways. His fingers froze on the grip of his fishing rod.
How the hell had she intruded on his perfect day?
Okay, so maybe she’d been the first one to lead him on an expedition through the craggy trails of this mountain range. The high peaks and deep gaps themselves had spawned in him a love of the Catskills that didn’t look like it would be wearing off anytime soon.
Charles could also argue that growing up on the flat terrain of Florida had primed him for a change of scenery. That was, after all, exactly why he’d chosen Van Cortlandt College. To finally live somewhere with real seasons, although his mother always swore after a few winters up here, he’d come home again appreciating Florida’s temperate climate.
He hadn’t proven her right yet, and Karan had absolutely no place in his quarterly weekend trip with fellow anglers during the middle of trout season.
Or anywhere else in his life, for that matter.
He was relieved for the distraction of the inevitable reply when it finally came.
“Damned straight it’s another world,” Jay said. “Personally, I vote for not returning to the real one.”
Matthew gave a snort—laughter maybe.
That’s the way it always went on these fishing trips. Quiet reverence for the dawn eventually accelerated into excitement as they woke up, or whenever one of them hooked and landed a catch. And, of course, as the day heated they were forced to break open the beer cooler.
The guys were always the same, too. Matthew West, chief of staff at St. Joseph’s Hospital, had been hosting these seasonal trips for half a dozen years now. He owned the cabin. Jay Reiber, Internal Medicine, owned the boat. Henry Hyatt, ob-gyn, had the wonderful wife who always spent a week cooking so they wouldn’t starve while they were away. Summer. Autumn. Winter. Spring.
Charles wasn’t sure what his contribution was beyond filling the coolers with beer, but he wasn’t complaining.
“I thought that was always the plan?” Henry was still half-bent over the tackle box, spending more time knotting his fly than actually fishing because he insisted the lighter line would give him an edge.
Another unproven theory.
“Can’t swing it for a few more years,” Jay admitted. “Not unless Matthew puts me up in the cabin rent-free.”
Another snort from Matthew. Laughter definitely.
“You really think you can pay off those student loans in a few more years, Jay?” Charles reeled in for another cast.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’m good with budgeting, and I don’t live beyond my means like others I won’t mention.”
“You general docs must not run up loans like we specialists do.” Henry laughed. “But I don’t think you’re going anywhere soon. You’d miss us too much.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Charles said. “Jay can always watch the videos if he gets lonely. Or did you miss that he brought the camcorder again?”
Henry glanced up from his line and followed Charles’s gaze to the photographic equipment in question, packed in pricey waterproof gear for the boat ride. Jay and his camcorder were also becoming a tradition.
“He didn’t notice because he never gives Jay anything to record and put on YouTube,” Matthew weighed in, earning a scowl from Henry.
“I am a man with a plan.” Jay dragged his line. “Angling Amateurs is getting quite the following on the internet, thank you very much. And when it grows up, I’m changing the name to Accomplished Anglers and spending my early retirement charging clowns like you big bucks to be taken to the best spots on every river and stream in the Catskills.”
“You go, Captain Jay.” Charles didn’t doubt the man would eventually accomplish mission objective. “But you might need a bigger boat.”
“I’ll have one. Or two. Or a whole damned fleet.”
“If you want footage to show your fan base, then you’d better grab your camcorder,” Matthew said. “I got one.”
It would be Matthew who scored first today, and with a quiet precision not unlike they used at the hospital when ambulances pulled into the E.R. and lives were on the line, they moved into action.