Ralston.”
“I was in the city for meetings pertaining to the property. But…it’s not finalized yet.”
She waited for him to poke and prod further, but he switched tactics. “I’m just trying to follow the same path the reporter did who put the article together. So far, their sources would—or could—include Shelby and the sheriff.”
“Or possibly anyone in Ralston. For all I know the vandalism is common knowledge.”
“Is the Sentinel still up and running?” Donovan was referring to the paper that was based in Ralston, but pretty much served everyone on this side of the county.
“Yes. I used it when I started compiling names and businesses to call.”
“Did they run a story on the vandalism?”
“No. I mean, not that I know of. No one contacted me. It might have been mentioned in the little sheriff’s crime column, but other than that—why do you ask? What difference would that make?”
“I don’t know yet. But, at least back when I lived here, it was big news if someone ran the only light in town. You’d think this would have been at least filler on the local interest page if nothing else.”
She shrugged, though if his goal was to further unnerve her, he was doing a good job. “Winnimocca isn’t all that close to town. Maybe it never came up.”
“And after telling the sheriff about your plans to open a camp for disabled kids, no one came out here to do a little local feature story either?”
“No, but honestly, Donov—Mac, I didn’t really assume they would. I haven’t even begun repairs yet. Maybe they’re waiting until there’s more of a story. Who knows?” She didn’t tell him that her other mission this morning, after seeing Gilby, was to pay a visit to the head of the Ralston Chamber of Commerce. Her intent there was to talk up the camp a little, see if she could get his support by bringing to his attention the future business the camp might provide to Ralston, in exchange for him talking it up a little with the local merchants, most notably anyone having anything to do with construction.
“Is there anyone else?”
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t follow the question. “Anyone else what?”
“Anyone else who might be talking. Do you have any partners, silent or otherwise? Anyone helping you in any way or otherwise involved with you?”
She knew he was talking business. He sounded just like the detective he used to be, and she was definitely starting to feel interrogated. And yet she didn’t dare so much as glance at him. On the off chance there was anything personal behind the question. “No. Just me. I—I have connections with people I hope to hire as instructors and counselors, but in terms of ownership and management, it’s just me.”
He fell silent again, and maybe it was her own mounting tension over the increasingly negative situation she was finding herself in that made the air between them seem to crackle. But, at least from her perspective, the awareness and tension were operating on another level as well. She did risk a quick sideways glance at him then; she couldn’t help it. His profile was solemn, his jaw hard and set. His gaze was fixed on some point out the front windshield. And she had no clue what was going through his mind. Chances were he really was here on something of a lark, to help her out. Chances were, he didn’t want or desire anything else from her other than a job well done and maybe a polite thank-you.
She settled more deeply into the sprung cushion seat and tried to tell herself all the reasons why being disappointed with that probable reality was a really dangerous way to feel.
“What are you planning to do during the off season?” he asked rather abruptly.
“What off season? Spring is here. Perfect time to get work done. By winter all the exterior work should be done, leaving only the inside refurbishing for the colder months.”
“I meant what are your plans during the off season of the camp. Louisa wintered in Manhattan or whatever island beckoned.” She felt his gaze shift to her. “Where do you plan to hibernate?”
She wanted to ask him what that had to do with the vandalism and possible developer intrusion, but didn’t. Maybe his mind was following the same personal track hers was. Only what difference it made, she had no idea. “Are you—is your people-helper business based in the city?” she asked in return.
“No. Virginia. We have Finn’s father’s old place. It’s the base of operations for Trinity.”
She happened to know that “old place” was a majestic sea of acreage in the old-wealth section of Virginia horse country. “Trinity? As in—” She glanced at him in time to see his lips curve.
“Yes,” he admitted, “as in Unholy Trinity.”
“I can’t believe you guys stuck together all these years.”
Mac didn’t respond to that; instead, he shifted the focus back to her. “So, where do you live? I mean, normally.”
“I live in that cabin back at camp.” She knew what he was getting after, but she wanted to let him hang himself on his own narrow-minded preconceptions of her. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Okay,” he said with the same exaggerated patience. “And this winter?”
“I’ll still be living in the cabin. It is my sole residence now.”
“Where were you before moving up here?”
“Not that it has anything to do with the situation at hand, but before moving here I lived in university-funded housing just off campus from where I was teaching.”
“You’re a teacher?”
She did look at him then. “I’m opening up a camp to help disabled kids learn new methods to help them cope with their limitations. What did you think I did?”
“I—I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
She liked that little momentary catch in his voice. She doubted he was often caught off guard. Unreasonably cheered by having the upper hand, even if it was likely short-lived, she took advantage. “I’m not my mother, Donovan,” she said, purposely using his given name. And maybe he’d just have to get used to it. He simply wasn’t Mac to her. “I’m not here to play camp owner to the offspring of the wealthy as a way to springboard myself into the realms of high society. This will be a working camp dedicated to helping those who need it, whether they can afford it or not. I am already working with several nonprofits and other charitable foundations in hopes of raising money to fund scholarships or something similar for kids who can’t otherwise attend. And I won’t be handing off the day-to-day management to someone else. I will be running this place from the ground up. It is my dream to see this camp realized, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it a reality.”
He didn’t say anything at first, then, finally, “I’m sorry.”
“For?” she said archly, still revved up from her little speech and not quite ready to abdicate her temporary throne.
“It’s been a long time. We really don’t know each other. I shouldn’t have made assumptions.”
It wasn’t the best apology she’d ever gotten, or even the most heartfelt, but coming from him, it was more than she’d expected.
She shifted her attention back to the road. “As for winter, I don’t plan for this to be a summer-only camp, though that will be when we’ll do the most work. Spring and fall will be heavily utilized and, if I can make it happen, I’m hoping to use the winter months as a teachers retreat where instructors can come and study and learn more about the alternative methods I plan to implement here.”
“An impressive agenda.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Not that it’s any of my business, but—”
She barked out a laugh. “Not that it’s