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“Not scared so much as. . . offended. I would think no self-described feminist would consider such an offer.”
“Yeah, well, she shouldn’t. But what one should do and what one actually does aren’t always the same.”
We stopped close to the lake, but most of the Adirondack chairs were already taken. Which was fine by me. This wasn’t the final destination.
In the meantime. . . “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“Me? You’re the one who’s been gone. The one with the stories, I assume.” She took a sip of wine. “It’s been business as usual here. College, job. Wine weekends, trips when I can manage it.”
“So you work for the resorts?”
“I do. Manage Taughannock Falls.”
“I remember when all you wanted to do was draw.”
She gave me the side-eye. “Since we met in art class and spent half our time together drawing and bouncing ideas off each other, I’d say you know as well as anyone how big of a part of my life that was.”
“Was?”
Charlee sighed. “I actually minored in graphic design in college.”
That didn’t surprise me in the least. “But ended up in hotel management?”
“I have a really good job, with flexibility, which is important to me since I like to travel a lot. . .” She trailed off.
But it was a job. Not a passion. Charlee was and always would be trapped—something I absolutely refused to let happen to me—if she didn’t pursue the creative side of her.
“What about you?” she asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Can you tell me about your time in the military?”
“What do you want to know?”
It was the perfect fall day. Part of me had had no desire to come back to a town that judged first, asked questions later. But another part of me, the one that had actually come back, knew this region was like a little slice of paradise, and I’d be damned if I wouldn’t at least try to stake my claim.
“I know you were a sniper. And that you’ve lived all over, were deployed twice. But, what else? Fill in the gaps.”
That would take longer than one afternoon. I thought of something I could share. “My spotter,” I said. “His name is Nate.”
“Spotter?”
“A sniper and spotter work together as a two-person team. You end up pretty close with that person. And my person is Nate.”
“Tell me about him,” she said, seeming genuinely interested.
“He’s one hell of a sniper—”
“I thought you said he was your spotter.”
“A spotter is also a sniper. Nate is a great one too. He’s from Monticello, New York. Been in for about thirteen years. We were a team for just under three years.”
“Is he young, old? Married?”
I laughed. “Have someone in mind for him?”
Charlee’s smile was something I could spend a lifetime staring at. It was as genuine as they got.
The whole time. I tried to keep track of your movements.
He threatened not to pay for college.
