Page 9 of Pining for You

Hundreds of meters before we reached the turn-off, branches littered the road. Chloe steered her vehicle around them without issue—it was an old but seemingly serviceable half-ton and Chloe handled it like a pro.

Our good luck didn't last. When we reached the campground’s main gate, an ancient willow had tipped over and blocked the driveway. The trunk hadn’t split, it had fallen over like a giant had swiped it, tugging its massive root structure and pulled it out from the earth.

"Ah, I hate it when the old trees fall like that," Chloe commented, drawing to a stop.

So did I. “Looks like it’s taken out the gate.”

"Mr. Tamblin's not going to like that," Chloe said. "At least Dad is the one who will have to tell him he needs a new gate. That guy." She shook her head.

“John said he’s a real cheapskate about everything, too.”

“It’s not just that. Mr. Tamblin is one of those stick-in-the-mud old white guys who don’t believe women have the brains to manage a business.”

“Let me guess, he’d question anything you recommended but would agree if it was suggested by a guy.”

“And also demand I lower the price by at least half. I mean, he’d demand a deal from Dad too, but he wouldn’t give you the gears, because you’re a man.”

“Why does your dad let that happen?” I asked. Didn’t he stick up for his daughter?

“He’s just glad to get a break from Tamblin,” Chloe grumbled, “but the shit that man gives me just because I don’t have a dick. Guess I’ll have to crank up my estimate by half so he can think he’s getting one over on the little lady.”

I choked down a laugh as Chloe shoved the gear stick into park a few yards before we got to the gate. There would be no going forward until that tree was out of the way.

We exited our respective doors, and Chloe took the lead. Before we’d stepped off the road, she glanced over her shoulder and pointed at the first obstacle. A water-filled ditch.

"Best way around that is over it," she said.

"We could go back and…" Before I could finish my sentence, she had taken a few running steps and vaulted across.

Now I'd have to do the same. Chloe was tall, so that helped her, and I was taller, so I can step over a lot of things where a shorter person would find a definite obstacle. But she’d made the jump with such ease, and I didn’t want to fall flat on my ass, or worse, my face, and look like a doofus.

I managed the jump without falling into the muck, and hurried after her, enjoying her long strides and how effortlessly she ducked around the branches of the downed willow.

As we got closer, we confirmed the gate was indeed buried beneath the branches of the willow, as was about thirty feet of the fence line.

"Fence, too," I observed. Though what the Tamblins were trying to keep out, I couldn't be sure. Teenagers, I guess.

We carefully clambered over the fence farther along and back down on the other side.

On this side, the woods were thick and darker. “I half expect to find Freddie or Jason lurking in the woods.”

She snorted. “I’ve heard a few stories of some smart-ass teens in masks thinking it’s funny to scare their dates.” A few hundred feet farther in, she said, “It thins out closer to the lake.”

Fallen branches and leaves littered the drive as we trudged toward the water, and the woods opened up every now and then to reveal what were probably former campsites, though now scrub brush filled in the spaces.

Chloe used her chin to gesture toward the yellow brick Victorian house in the middle of the property. The one with its roof split in two thanks to an ancient maple tree that hadn’t survived the storm’s fury. “I can deal with fallen branches, and even fallen trees, but that’s beyond me.”

Beyond me too. Like her, I could remove the trunk and the branches, but the damage it had done to the house? That was someone else’s purview. “The insurance company’s going to have fun with this claim.”

Though considering how cheap the Tamblins were, they might not have bothered to pay for vacancy insurance since they’d moved out. In which case, it would be better to raze the whole lot. Or sell it and let it be someone else’s problem, though a house with a hole in the middle of the roof wouldn’t increase the property value at all.

“Good thing the Tamblins aren’t still living here.” I pulled out my phone to take photos of the damage.

I rounded the building and found a swear word spray painted in bright red over the yellow brick. Several main floor windows had been broken, though from the looks of it, not by the storm but by vandals.

“There are more tags and broken windows on the other side. Dad has to stop by a lot in the spring to kick out high school students who think it’s a great place to party because no one’s around to see them.”

As we inspected the rest of the property, Chloe made notes for her father to report to the owner. An aspen had fallen smack dab in the middle of a larger cabin, turning the cabin’s roof and walls into splinters.

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