Page 72 of Until Next Summer

Dot turns to me, giving Scout one final pat before getting up. “You really think they’ll agree to this hullabaloo?”

“I don’t see why not,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I am. “From everything I’ve heard, Jack Valentine is all about the money. It shouldn’t matter where that money comes from. And if we play on Mary’s sentimentality, hopefully she’ll help convince her brother.”

Dot mutters something about Jack that I can’t make out, then scoops a spoonful of taco meat into her bag of Fritos. Once it’s clear there are no more questions, Jessie fills everyone in on what else we found in the camp’s historical paperwork.

My best friend looks effervescent, like the weight of the world has been lifted off her shoulders. I bet our conversation last night has something to do with it. Finally talking about some of the hurt we’ve been holding on to for the last decade helped me, too. Now that it’s all out in the open, I hope we’ll be able to move forward and heal.

“What now?” Zoey asks. “How can we help?”

“We’re going to start by seeing if people are willing to put their money where their hearts are,” Jessie says, glancing at me.

She wanted to make the Valentines an offer first thing tomorrow morning, but I convinced her we should make surethe interest was there first. We’re talking about raising a few million dollars at least.

Not that I’m concerned. From what Jessie’s said, the adult sessions this summer filled up almost instantly—I have no doubt those same campers will want to help save Camp Chickawah for future generations, for their children or grandchildren. Especially after revisiting that magic this summer.

“Jack and Mary are going to be here in a few weeks to walk through the property with the buyers,” I tell the group. “We’re going to invite them to come up the night before so they can be wined and dined by one of the hottest chefs in Boston.”

The words are meant as a compliment, but they make Cooper wince. Again, I get the feeling there’s more to the story of why he left such a lucrative job. And now that I’m staying put, I’ve got time to delve into the depths and figure out what wounds he’s holding on to.

“While they’re here,” I continue, “we’ll present them with the counteroffer and hope like hell they agree to pull out of the deal.”

“I wish Nathaniel had pulled out the night that rat weasel was conceived,” Dot mutters. I bark out a laugh, and Jessie rolls her eyes.

“Let’s be grown-ups here,” Jessie says, and I attempt to straighten my expression.

“So the Valentines can just…” Zoey hesitates. “…back out?”

“It’s possible,” I say. “There would be some penalties, but we’d cover those costs. We’re counting on Mary, since Jack doesn’t seem to have a sentimental bone in his body.”

Dot grumbles to herself, something about Mary this time. There is no love lost between her and this generation of Valentines.

“What we’re saying is, we’ve got a chance.” Jessie’s voice is bright, but I can tell there are nerves hiding under that relentless optimism.

The door opens then, and everyone turns to stare as Luke walks in, back from his trip to New York. It’s not that he’s here—he’s become a fixture at our Sunday night dinners—it’s that he looks so dapper, dressed in dark jeans, a button-down shirt, and a blazer, like a real-life author headed to a book reading at some fancy gentleman’s club.

“Nice threads,” Zac says as Luke approaches the table, going straight for Scout, who’s asleep at Jessie’s feet.

I’ve never seen Zac in anything but board shorts and a T-shirt, but his assessment of Luke’s outfit is spot on—the jacket looks like something Aaron would wear, expensive and tailored to fit. Maybe we should hit Luke up to be the first donor to our co-op.

“Welcome back.” Jessie slides over to make room for him. “Scout missed you.”

As if on cue, the old dog lets out a loud fart, and everyone laughs.

“Really seems like it.” Luke bends his head toward Jessie and whispers something that makes her smile shine even brighter. It’s good to see her so happy. I hope Luke reciprocates her feelings. If anyone deserves some carefree camp fun, it’s Jessie.

I blush at the memory of last night in the Arts and Crafts cabin—and earlier this afternoon in the walk-in pantry. As if Cooper knows exactly what I’m thinking, he places a hand onmy thigh and gives it a squeeze. A flock of butterflies takes flight in my belly, and for the thousandth time today, I send a silent thank-you to Jessie for letting me stay.

“Dinner looks…interesting,” Luke says as he surveys the table and all the empty bags of chips.

Cooper tenses beside me, but Jessie swoops in with an explanation. “There’s a reason for that,” she says, and fills Luke in on everything he missed.

“Wow,” he says when she’s finished.

“Wow, as in ‘that sounds like an impossibly crazy plan’?”

Luke shakes his head. “No, wow, as in ‘I think that sounds brilliant.’ ” Jessie glows at his praise, but then he asks, “Have you started work on the fundraising materials?” and just like that, her face falls.

“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” she says.

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