that she would even wonder about this meant she probably needed serious therapy.
“Hi, Caroline.” She greeted the manager/cook who was cutting up vegetables on the long stainless-steel counter in the center of the room. A six-burner stove stood behind her, and different-sized pots hung from a rack suspended from the ceiling.
The tall blonde looked up and smiled. “Did the kids scare you off?”
“No.” But Kate grinned at the teasing. “They’re a terrific bunch and I really enjoyed meeting them. But Jim told me to take a break while they divide the campers into color groups for activities.”
“Jim Shields is a good teacher and really terrific at what he does here.”
Kate knew Caroline worked with him at Blackwater Lake High School, where he taught math and was the boys’ volleyball coach. “I came to see if you need any help in the kitchen.”
“You don’t want to put your feet up? Catch a power nap?”
“Working with children might not be my best skill, but I can take it. I’m sturdier than I look.”
“What is your best skill?” the other woman asked.
Kate couldn’t blame her for being curious. She’d shown up in a wedding dress and given no other information about herself besides the fact that she’d left her cheating weasel of a groom at the altar. But this peace and quiet felt good after so many years of nonstop media interest and craziness. It would end if the details about her came out. She wanted serenity for just a little bit longer.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not say.”
“Suit yourself.” Caroline put down the knife in her hand. “I can use some help. Hamburgers and fries are the traditional first-night meal here, and I insist on fresh, not frozen, potatoes. You can cut them up. Real thin.”
“Okay.”
“When you finish that, would you slice some carrot and celery sticks? I always like to have those available.”
“Got it.”
Kate saw that the potatoes were already peeled and soaking in a pot of water. She got to work, and after checking the thinness of her fries, Caroline said nothing for a few moments. Finally Kate couldn’t stand the silence. It was against all the laws of nature for two women to be in a kitchen together and not talk. Usually about men. And she knew exactly which man she wanted to talk about.
“How long have you managed the camp for Cabot?”
“Ten years now.”
Tyler was eight, which meant this woman had met his mother. After the little bit Cabot had said, Kate had a lot of questions. “So what was Cabot’s wife like?”
Caroline glanced up quickly from the tomato she was slicing. “Why do you want to know?”
“He told me what happened and why.”
“Interesting.” She looked up again. “He doesn’t usually talk about it.”
Should she feel special that he’d told her the story? A question for another day. “I guess I’m just curious what you thought of her.”
“It’s hard to answer that. There is my impression when he was first with her and my feelings about what she did to him by running away.” She sighed and rested her wrist against the cutting board. “She was a very pretty little thing. Long black hair and violet-colored eyes. Seemed sweet and head over heels for Cabot. No one saw that she was unhappy or that she would do what she did. Folks were shocked, and some blamed it on postpartum depression. But she never came back to set things right. Cabot was stunned and dazed. The thing is, he didn’t really even have time to process his feelings because he had an infant to care for and a business to run. Maybe that was a blessing.”
Kate remembered his wistful tone when he’d talked about his wife. “Do you know how he feels about her now?”
“No,” Caroline said. “As far as I know, no one knows.”
Kate had been hoping for something specific, a tidbit to explain why he hadn’t shown the least bit of interest in kissing her. It wasn’t that she’d wanted him to get romantic, because that would complicate her peace and quiet. But she kind of wanted him to want to and be fighting it just a little. Crazy. Except that she was still feeling the effects of her fiancé cheating on her and the lingering questions about why she was found lacking. Maybe her self-confidence had taken a bigger hit than she’d realized.
“Does he have a girlfriend?” That would explain the lack of interest.
“Not that I’m aware of. And this is a small town,” Caroline said pointedly. “If he did, everyone would know.”
“He must have needs.”
Caroline gave her a sharp look. “You’re awfully curious.”
“I’m sorry. That was really nosy. I didn’t mean to be inappropriate. But he’s an exceptionally good-looking man. It’s hard to believe he’s been unattached for so long.”
Kate figured if he had an itch that wasn’t getting scratched and he’d still not been tempted by her, that would make her feel even more pathetic.
The other woman nodded, apparently understanding the curiosity. “Cabot likes women, if that’s what you’re asking. No one knows for sure, but the assumption is that he ‘dates’ discreetly. The last thing he’d want is talk linking him to anyone getting back to his boy. He’d never put up with that.”
“Anyone can see he cares about Ty,” Kate agreed. “He seems like a wonderful father.”
“And then some.” Caroline looked thoughtful. “Because of what happened, he’s got a deep empathy for wounded people and goes out of his way to protect them.”
That actually was a segue into something else she was curious about. “I have another question.”
“I bet you do.”
“Clearly I have no right and I’d like to believe it’s not prying. Maybe inquisitive—”
“You think?” She saw humor in Caroline’s blue eyes.
“Yeah. But I can’t help it. I’m curious about the cabin where I’m staying.”
“Why?”
“It was empty and available. Stocked with basics—including coffee and toiletries, like a hotel room. As if it was ready. Like people in areas that are prone to natural disaster keep emergency supplies up to date.”
“Natural disaster and emergency pretty much describe Cabot’s reasons for keeping it prepared.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Folks call it the ‘stray cabin.’ Cabot has a soft spot for the three-legged dog or a blind cat. People, too. He keeps that place for anyone who’s in need. Like the soldier returning from the war who needs quiet to deal with post-traumatic stress disorder. Or the homeless
