Chapter 1

Sunday, Day one at Shady Pines

It was ten years ago, and I was about to embark on my most memorable and life-changing vacation. Being a single mother with two kids and a full-time job, my annual vacation in August is the most important time of the year to me. It gives me a month to be away from the house, the city, work, and, most importantly, to spend time with my kids.

I’m a paralegal in a small but prestigious Boston firm specializing in defending corporations from fraudulent claims by individuals and other corporations. I finally finished the brief that I had been researching. I filed it with the rest of the case records and shut down my computer. I just wanted to go home to my two kids and finish packing.

My son Brad is eighteen, and my daughter Carol is twenty. Brad just graduated from high school, and Carol is attending Boston University. Between the commuting, the overtime I put in and their activities, it’s three people passing each other, each going somewhere else, saying “Hi” and “Bye” during the week. On weekends, we connect more. Despite the busyness of our lives, we are a very close family and take every advantage of the time we do have together. There never were any arguments from Brad or Carol about spending a month in Vermont with their Mom. It was our time of the year to spend together, and we all looked forward to our annual trip.

I have rented the same cabin at a lake in Vermont for the past three years. It’s a family-owned summer vacation spot offering cabins with one or two bedrooms, one bathroom, screened porches, and bare-bones amenities. The open area has a kitchen with a stove, refrigerator, a few cabinets, a table, and four wooden chairs. The area adjacent to the kitchen has a sofa and a couple of armchairs.

Each bedroom has one chest and a nightstand with a lamp and a simple rod to hang clothes. The main bedroom has a comfortable double bed, and the second bedroom has two twin beds. The few concessions to the modern world are a microwave, TV, and a VCR, but without cable or satellite, a smoke alarm, a fire extinguisher by the stove and a black Bakelite rotary phone. The proprietor rents movies at his office to make a few extra dollars and give his visitors something to do if it rains.

A few days before we were to leave for Vermont, Carol decided to spend a few days with her latest boyfriend, Steve. Brad and I did all the shopping and packing, including everything we thought Carol would need. Carol made it home that Sunday about an hour before we planned to leave with Steve in tow.

As Brad and I were packing the SUV, Carol came up and hugged me and in her most ‘I am so sweet you will do anything for me’ voice asked, “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Steve to come with us. I told him you are a cool Mom and wouldn’t mind.”

I hugged my daughter back and whispered in her ear, “You should have asked two weeks ago so I could have had a chance to say no without looking un-cool in front of Steve.”

I broke our embrace and smiled at Steve, “Of course, I would love to have Steve along.” I was not upset. From the few times I had met Steve, I thought he was a decent guy and thought it would be good for Brad to have another male to hang with instead of just his mother and sister. Carol went into the house and returned with a few more things she wanted to bring. We squeezed Steve’s bag and Carol’s nonessentials in with the rest of our belongings and were ready to go.

It was a six-and-a-half-hour trip via the scenic route that I always took. The trip up was uneventful. Carol and Steve sat in the back and played lovey-dovey while Brad and I talked, enjoyed the scenery, rolled our eyes, and smiled at their antics. We stopped for lunch a little after noon. After lunch, Brad took over the driver’s seat from me, and we were back on the road by 1:00.

We arrived at the campsite at 3:30 in the afternoon. Brad parked by cabin #10, and I told the boys to unload the SUV. Carol and I walked over to check-in at the camp office. The office is off the main hall in the two-story cottage-style house that was the original building on the site. I read in the camp brochure the house was built in early 1932. Until 1957, it was the vacation home of a lumber baron. After his passing, it was sold and became Camp Shady Pines.

I opened the screen door, and we walked to the check-in desk and rang the small bell. A tall, good-looking man with brown hair and brown eyes came from the next room, greeted us and asked if he could help. Expecting the older gentleman who had checked us in in the past, I asked, “Where is Mr. Thompson?”

“I’m Mr. Thompson’s son, Jake. My father retired, and I now run the place with my daughter. And who may you be, if I may ask?”

“I’m Mary Sullivan, and this is my daughter Carol. I have a reservation for the next four weeks in cabin #10.”

“Ah yes, Ms. Sullivan. My dad told me to make sure I reserved cabin #10 for you. The cabin is all ready, and you can unpack at any time. Give me a shout if you need help with your bags or anything else that may come up.”

“There is one thing, Mr. Thompson.”

Chapter 2 »