Leeza laughed but Brooke’s eyes widened. “What happened? Was he hurt?”

  “I set him straight and he got back into his vehicle.” The fingers marched back to the driver’s side of the bottle. “That’s all we need is some tourist getting mauled by a bear. Or worse.” She took another slug of water. “I think he was pretty shook up when I told him it was a grizzly, though.” She gave a little shudder. “Black bears are bad enough, but there’s something about the word grizzly that frightens everyone.”

  Leeza checked her watch. “Shall we get on with it? We have a full house and we’re busy doing prep work for lunch and dinner.” She pointed to the printout Brooke had placed on the table. “Three VIPs in one day. That’s quite something.”

  Jamie studied the sheet as if she hadn’t seen it before, but she knew exactly who was arriving.

  She looked across the table at her chef. If Leeza hadn’t been wearing a white chef’s jacket, no one would ever guess that she worked in a kitchen, let alone be in charge. With her diminutive stature, pale skin and black spiky hair she looked like an escapee from a punk rock band. But in spite of Leeza’s unconventional appearance Jamie was confident in her chef and knew that she was as dependable as she was skilled.

  “Brooke says none of them have indicated any special dietary needs.” Leeza nodded to herself. “Can’t say I mind that.” She tapped the list with a finger. “I see Slick Billy is coming back again.”

  “Slick Billy?” Brooke looked down at the list and a slight frown marred her brow. “You must mean William Talbot.”

  Jamie grinned in spite of herself. “Oh, yeah. Billy Talbot is slick all right, but of course we only call him that behind his back.”

  “Why do I know that name?” Brooke had assumed the duties of office manager at the beginning of the season and wasn’t yet familiar with their return customers. “I feel as though I should know who he is.”

  Jamie paused to think for a moment. “I suppose if you don’t follow sports you may not have heard of him. Remember how the Blue Jays were doing so well about six or eight years ago?”

  Brooke shook her head. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. He played for the Blue Jays and was a terrific pitcher. He blew out his arm and had to retire but he’s still famous. The press gave him the nickname of Slick Billy because he was a real ladies’ man but he always managed to escape before he got seriously involved. A love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy.”

  “Oh.” Brooke looked disappointed. “I’ve met enough of those to last a lifetime.”

  “You?” Jamie pulled back and looked at her Office Manager. “With your looks you could have any man that walks through that door groveling at your feet. You must know that.”

  Brooke didn’t try to deny that she was beautiful. Jamie liked that about her. “Not interested,” she said simply. “I swear, at my last job I was hit on by almost every man who checked in. Didn’t matter who they were with.”

  Jamie and Leeza looked at each other. “Billy will try anyway,” said Leeza. “If he doesn’t come on to you, take his pulse; he’s probably dead.”

  “He’s not that bad, surely.” Brooke looked from one to the other.

  “Trouble is, he’s so charming.” Jamie looked at her new Office Manager with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve watched him over the years and I think he actually falls in love. But you could give him a taste of his own medicine.”

  Leeza sat up straighter, suddenly animated. Her dark eyes sparkled with interest. “You could do it, you know. Hook him then let him go, same as he’s been doing ever since he got famous.”

  “Ladies! This is one of our guests you’re talking about.” Brooke pretended to be shocked and they all laughed.

  “You’re right.” Jamie sobered. “I don’t need any negative publicity right now. Besides, Billy is more like family. He’s been coming here for quite a few years now.”

  Brooke looked down at the list. “I see that. This is his fifth visit.” Her finger trailed down the list of names. “Here’s another one. Matthew Weber. Must be a hot shot real estate agent. He’s won a prize as Salesman of the Year, and his stay was paid for by the Valley Real Estate Board.”

  Jamie raked her fingers through her hair. “Sometimes I wish companies would find some other destination for their prize winners.” She massaged her temples. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the booking, and the Lodge gets a lot of extra exposure, but these people get here and don’t know anything about fishing. Within a couple of days they’re bored.” She glanced over at the list. “He’s alone, isn’t he? Same as Billy?”

  Brooke nodded. “Let’s just see how it goes. Maybe he’ll surprise us.”

  “I hope so.” Jamie motioned impatiently. “And the last of the VIPs was that documentary film maker, right?”

  “Yup.” Brooke didn’t have to look at the name. “Craig Hansen. I’ve seen his work and he’s good.” She slid a sideways glance at Jamie. “This is a big deal, him coming here. Right?”

  Jamie nodded. “Yeah. It’s a preliminary trip, but if he decides to do a documentary on fly fishing in the area, it could put us back in the money.” Jamie shared everything with her two key employees. It was no secret that the Lodge had been struggling since the economic downturn in the States and she was worried that she might not be able to open next year. “I’m almost afraid to hope for too much.”

  Brooke spoke thoughtfully. “Well then, let’s just treat him like we treat all the guests. He’s probably used to people falling all over him.”

  Jamie nodded. “You’re right. His representative asked me to meet with him while he’s here. Apparently he has the final say on decisions about locations.”

  Brooke looked out over the lake. “What more could he ask for? This is so beautiful.”

  “Let’s hope he agrees.” Jamie turned to Leeza. “Any problems in the kitchen I should know about?”

  Leeza shook her head. “Just the usual. College kids that come for the summer and are shocked when they find out they actually have to work.” She shrugged. “Nothing new. But I’d better get back there now.” She rose and stretched. “See you guys later.” She walked briskly in the direction of the kitchen.

  Jamie looked at her watch and stood up as well. “Time I put on my taxi driver hat. I hope those two men I dropped off this morning have had some luck. They had enough gear to catch every rainbow in the lake.”

  Brooke stood and walked over to the window. Not for the first time Jamie wondered why the other woman hadn’t taken a more high profile job. With her experience, looks and innate grace, she could work anywhere she chose. “Aren’t you afraid, flying all over the north in that thing?” She was looking toward the special dock a hundred yards away where Jamie’s favourite form of transportation rocked gently in the wake of a passing boat.

  “Not in the least. What frightens me is driving on the highway.” Jamie motioned toward the Beaver. “When I’m flying, I don’t have to deal with kamikaze drivers.”

  Brooke looked at the sky to the north. “I suppose so. By the way, I checked the weather earlier and we’re supposed to have a storm later on.”

  People had started to wander toward the dining room for lunch and Brooke looked at her boss. “Have you eaten anything today?”

  Jamie thought for a moment. “I had a piece of toast this morning.” She headed for the door.

  Brooke shook her head, walked to the reception desk and grabbed an apple from the basket. “Here, take this with you at least.” She tossed it to Jamie.

  “Thanks.” Jamie caught it and ran down the steps. Goldie scrambled to her feet and followed, tail wagging in anticipation of the flight to come. Brooke sighed and returned to her office.

  Chapter Two

  Craig Hansen left the town behind and drove back toward Long Lake. He’d had a pleasant lunch on the outside terrace of a small restaurant and spent some time in the town’s museum, but he was ready to get settled in and relax. He chuckled at the direction of his thoughts. When compared with his usual schedule, this entire day so far had been one big relax.

  He turned in at the sign pointing to Long Lake Fishing Resort. A simple name, and he liked it. Many of these places spent too much time focusing on new age names, and not enough on their primary purpose...a comfortable bed, a good meal and some great fishing. He’d heard good things about Long Lake and hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed.

  His car rumbled over a cattle guard and he paused to get a sense of where he was.

  By his estimate, the main road was offset from the lake by about a quarter of a mile, perhaps a bit more. He’d checked it out on Google Earth and had noticed the irregular shoreline as well as several streams leading into the lake from the east. He’d also noted that development was sparse along the shore; clusters of buildings separated by stretches of unoccupied land.

  From here the land sloped gently toward the lake. This particular area was sparsely treed and offered enticing glimpses of the lake in the distance. He started up again and drove slowly. Grasshoppers jumped out of the way as he passed and in the heat of the afternoon the pungent scent of fir trees filled the air like sweet perfume.

  He inhaled deeply and relaxed for the first time in days. He’d been working almost non-stop for the last two years and he needed this break. He also needed a break from his publicist, who he had mistakenly dated about six months ago. He couldn’t seem to make her understand that there was never going to be anything between them; the woman was becoming a real problem.

  The Lodge buildings came into view and he slowed again, looking them over. The main building was large and could only be described as rambling. It looked as though it had been a large country home at one time but the original outlines of the building were hard to discern among all of the add-ons over the years. The irregular additions gave it a casual, comfortable feel, like an older woman surrounded by her grandchildren.

  In front of the main building, a broad lawn sloped gently down toward the water. Behind the lodge, tucked in among some fir trees, three small cottages occupied higher ground. There was a permanent air about them and he wondered if the owner lived in one of them. Directly to his left were two newer buildings. Two story units, they were situated close enough to the main Lodge to be easily accessible. Guests in these accommodations could enjoy the view out over the lake and he noted that both buildings offered wide balconies with comfortable chairs. Were there actually people who came here to look at the lake? He supposed it was possible.

  The Lodge obviously encouraged children. A small playground was set up off to the left, in sight of the two-story units. A string of floats marked off an area of the beach where children could play safely away from boat traffic. Directly in front of the lodge, a dock stretched out into the water, with several smaller docks shooting off to the sides like branches of a tree. About a dozen boats were tied up snugly, out of use in the heat of the afternoon when few fish would take a fly, or any bait for that matter.

  A smaller dock sat off to the left. It was empty and his gaze went beyond, to a stand of trees near the water’s edge. Campsites nestled in among the trees and he found himself wishing he’d brought his camping gear. These were the most perfectly sited campsites he’d ever seen, at least in a commercial setting. A sprawling wooden building housed the office and a good-sized store. The front porch was lined with flower boxes and appeared to be a spot for children to gather and eat ice cream. A cement block addition on the rear housed laundry and shower facilities. Memories of a happier time flooded over him, but he pushed them down and pulled into a parking spot beside the lodge.

  He walked up a set of broad steps and paused on the verandah. It was like something out of another time, with an eclectic mix of chairs pulled up in conversational groupings. Maybe he’d been wrong about people passing quiet time overlooking the water. Two men who looked like they might be father and son were sitting quietly with a drink. Suddenly he wasn’t so eager to get to his room and unpack.

  He walked into a large, open great room. An informal area served as reception and he was about to ring a bell when a tall young woman appeared from a back room. “Good afternoon sir. Welcome to Long Lake Fishing Lodge.” Her smile was warm.

  “Good afternoon. I’d like to check in please. My name is Craig Hansen.”

  “Yes Mr. Hansen, we’ve been expecting you.” She placed a registration card in front of him and he signed. “If you’ll be dining with us tonight I’d be happy to make a reservation for you.”

  “Would it be all right if I play that by ear? I’ve just had lunch in town.”

  “Certainly sir. You can call from your room or come back to see me and I’ll be happy to take care of it.”

  “Thank you. You know, when I first drove in all I could think about was getting to my room and unpacking, but I’ve changed my mind. Could you have someone bring me a beer out on the verandah?”

  She glanced toward the outside. “Inviting, isn’t it. Any particular kind of beer?”

  “I prefer Heineken but anything would be good.” He glanced at her name tag. “Thank you, Brooke.”

  He sauntered outside and chose a high backed rocking chair. Most of the furniture was large and he gave silent thanks that he’d found something to accommodate his six foot four inch frame.

  A beer was placed on the low table beside his chair. He thanked the server and poured. Clouds threatened the sun and a breeze had kicked up but he didn’t care; if this wasn’t heaven, it was close. He took a long, cold swallow and thought back on what he knew about the Lodge.

  There was no lack of information about the Lodge and fishing in the area, but very little about the people behind the operation. His assistant had researched it for him and had learned that Jamie Nicholson inherited the Lodge at the age of eighteen when his parents died in a train accident while travelling in Asia. He’d managed with some administrative help until the age of twenty one and had been running it alone ever since. Doing a good job too, until the latest economic downturn reduced the portfolios of many of the Lodge’s regular clients.

  He checked out the building without being too obvious. They appeared to have a good maintenance crew and for some reason that pleased him. Too many family businesses were falling into disrepair.

  He was taking his second swallow of beer when the sound of a small aircraft broke into his thoughts. He rose, went to the railing and looked into the sky. It must be circling because it was out of sight but he could hear it coming around.

  There it was! Coming in from the south end of the lake, just over the treetops. The pilot held the aircraft about thirty feet above the water and he sensed that he was about to touch down when a gust of wind caught one wingtip. It dipped to one side for a fraction of a second before the pilot regained control and brought it down for a smooth landing in front of the Lodge.

  For the second time today he found that he’d been holding his breath. Shaken, he went back to his chair and watched the Beaver taxi up to the small dock.

  The door opened on the pilot’s side and a figure emerged, stepped lightly down onto the float and hopped onto the deck, one hand on the wing strut. It was the woman from this morning; the one with the bear spray. A gust of wind caught her long sun-streaked hair and she brushed it back from her face. He could see the laughter in her eyes from here, and for an almost uncontrollable moment he wanted to be down there on the deck with her, sharing her enthusiasm. A dog followed her out of the cockpit and onto the deck, its coat a pale golden colour in the afternoon sun.

  Two men, obviously fishermen, emerged through the passenger door. They looked toward the two-storey buildings and held up their catch. Silvery scales glistened in the sunlight and the men exchanged a few words with the woman, shook her hand and then trudged off, proudly showing their catch to several children who came running from the beach. He wondered idly if the chef would be asked to cook fish tonight, then laughed to himself. It was probably a rarity when the chef wasn’t asked to cook fish.

  He watched the woman tie down the Beaver. The dog had trotted to the shore and was lapping up lake water. She patted the wing of the aircraft the way one would stroke a favourite pet and walked toward the lodge, long legs encased in slim, faded jeans.

  He set down the beer bottle, surprised to see that it was empty. He must have finished it while watching her. As she ran up the steps his feet moved forward of their own accord and he extended his hand. “Hi, that was quite a landing.” What was he doing?

  She stopped in mid-stride and turned to look at him. Something flared behind her eyes for a fraction of a second and he wondered if she recognized him. Another gust of wind caught her hair and she tucked it impatiently behind her ear. She wore no makeup and appeared to be free of artifice of any kind. Hazel eyes that were predominantly green smiled at him and all rational thought fled from his mind.

  “Thanks. It was a bit breezy out there.” She extended her hand. “Welcome to Long Lake. I’m Jamie Nicholson.”

  He shook her hand. It was surprisingly small and feminine. “You’re Jamie Nicholson?”

  She laughed. “You were expecting a man?”

  He nodded.

  “Happens a lot. And you are?”

  “Craig Hansen. I just checked in.”

  Now he could see the recognition in her eyes. “Ah, Mr. Hansen.” She gestured back toward the Beaver. “I hope that little flying exhibition hasn’t put you off. I can fly you into a lot of lovely spots that aren’t accessible by road.”

  He sucked in a breath of air and looked at the floatplane. “I don’t know...”

  She picked up on his ambivalence. “You don’t have to decide now, but I’ll make myself available any time you’d like to go out.”

  She made a move toward the inside of the lodge, but he didn’t want her to go. “Do you have time for a beer?” He motioned to the empty bottle. “I was just about to have another one.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t.” She took a quick look inside the lodge. “Looks like all the check-ins arrived at once today. I should help Brooke.”