Sky Lake Summer. Peggy Dymond Leavey

fine, fine. Looks like a grand day. Yesterday’s rain was just what we needed.”

      Jane closed her book and took her breakfast dishes to the sink. How hard was it to put two bricks back on a chimney anyway, she wondered? Outside, she discovered the day was warming up quickly. She swung herself into the old striped hammock which sagged between two poplar trees in the side yard, pushing herself off with one foot, swinging there, facing the lake where the sunlight glinted. She waited for Nell.

      Today, they were going to take a picnic lunch and row over to the island, see what the crop of raspberries was going to be like this year. Of all the cottagers on the lake, Nell was the only one Jane knew who still considered a stout set of oars and muscles to match the best way to power a boat.

      The screen door slammed and Nell came down the steps towards her. “It’s all set then,” she announced. “Jesse’s picking up some supplies and he’s going to fix the chimney for me. Right away. You don’t mind having our picnic here, do you, dear? We use that stove everyday, and the chimney is dangerous the way it is.”

      Jane gave herself another push to set the hammock in motion again. “Jesse didn’t mind coming?”

      “Well, I didn’t actually speak to him,” Nell admitted, dropping her hands into the pockets on the front of her denim skirt. “But when I asked his father about getting some mortar, Jackson said he’d send Jesse over to do the work for me. He’ll do some other little jobs while he’s here. What teenager doesn’t need a little extra money these days?”

      Nell went back inside and Jane debated whether she should go for a swim first or putter about in the row boat for a while. The warmth of the sun was making her lazy. Maybe she would go and look for the raspberries herself. She would just as soon not be here when Jesse arrived, considering his surly attitude when they had first met. But she did wonder if he might have discovered anything more about the strange letter she’d found.

      Jane had gone upstairs to straighten her room when she heard the sound of an outboard motor approaching. From the window, she saw Jess Howard pull his boat into the empty berth on the other side of the dock, get out, tie the boat to the pipe, and reach down for a paper sack, which he slung onto his shoulder. Then he strode with it up the incline to the cottage. The bandanna was gone from the dark hair, and he had added a white T-shirt to his wardrobe of jeans and workboots.

      Jane heard Nell go out to greet him, and the sound of their voices moved around to the back. From the window at the head of the stairs, Jane watched as Jess entered the shed and came out with the ladder. He set it down on its side against the building. Reaching over his shoulder with one hand, she saw him pull his T-shirt off over his head and stuff it into the waist band at the back of his jeans. Then, before bending to pick up the ladder again, he looked directly up at the window. Jane stepped back quickly, feeling the colour rise in her face, knowing she’d been caught.

      “Oh, there you are,” said Nell when Jane came down into the kitchen again. “Could you take Jesse this lemonade, dear?”

      “Oh, Nell. He just got here! Couldn’t it wait?”

      “It’s pretty hot around there on the east side, Jane. Jesse will be here for a while. He’s going to set the stones back in the front planters for me, do some other repairs. It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more friendly, would it?”

      “He didn’t act like he was looking for a friend,” Jane said. She took the glass without another word and found Jess on the far side of the cottage, mixing mortar in the old wheelbarrow. She wished now that Nell hadn’t made that remark about his looks the other day, and she especially wished that he hadn’t seen her watching him from the window on the stairs.

      “My grandmother sent you some lemonade.”

      “Thanks,” said Jess, without raising his head.

      “Could I set it somewhere?”

      “I’ll take it.” He reached for the dripping glass and downed it all at once.

      Jane stepped carefully over the coil of hose to stand in the shade of the lilac bush. “Working hard?” she asked, realizing as soon as the words were out how lame they sounded.

      “You bet,” Jess said and handed her back the empty glass.

      Might as well cut to the chase. “Did you find out anything about what we found on Tuesday?”

      He paused for the briefest second, as if trying to remember Tuesday. “I know where that box of books came from, if that’s what you mean.”

      “You do? All right!”

      Jess shoved the tip of the shovel into the paper sack, carefully drawing out some powdery, white material and tossing it into the wheelbarrow. “Just like you figured,” he said, “Sky Lake Variety Store, right there on the box. Didn’t see it till I was putting it back inside last night.”

      Jane frowned. “They were your dad’s books?”

      “No. They were in boxes in the storeroom when we took over. My dad gave them to the library.”

      “And the letter?” she pressed. “What did you do with it?”

      “I’ve got it.”

      “You’re still carrying it around? I thought you were going to give it to the librarian.”

      “I couldn’t,” Jess said. “She started her holidays this week. Her replacement wouldn’t know anything about it.”

      “So? Did you show it to anyone else?”

      “Like who?”

      “I don’t know.” Didn’t he have any imagination? “Your parents, maybe. Someone who might have known the Frasers.”

      Jess stirred the contents of the wheelbarrow. “I didn’t show it to anyone.”

      “Oh,” said Jane. “Maybe I should just let Nell see it, then.”

      “Go ahead. It’s all yours.” He set the shovel down and drew the letter out of the pocket of his jeans with two fingers.

      Nell was in the kitchen washing lettuce, laying each leaf out on a clean tea towel she’d spread on the counter. At Jane’s invitation, she sat down to read the letter which Jane unfolded for her on the kitchen table.

      When she was through, Nell removed her glasses, shaking her head. “I agree. Whoever Eugenie is, she sounds frightened.”

      “Sounded, you mean,” Jane reminded her gloomily. “This letter is 68 years old.”

      “That’s true. So whatever she was afraid was going to happen, either did, or didn’t.”

      “We don’t even know if the storekeeper was able to help her or not.”

      “Or if she ever got the letter,” Nell added.

      “Well, Jess just told me that the book came from the storeroom of his father’s store,” Jane pointed out. “So we know the letter got that far.”

      “There’s really nothing you can do now, dear,” Nell said kindly.

      “Maybe not. But I’m still curious.”

      At lunchtime, at Nell’s request, Jane carried a plate of chicken sandwiches covered with plastic wrap around to the side to Jess, only to discover he’d gone down to the dock. She found him dangling his legs in the water, his jeans rolled up to his knees.

      “She didn’t have to feed me,” Jess growled when he saw the sandwiches, but accepted the plate Jane handed him anyway.

      His dark hair curled up at the back of his neck, and he had missed a streak of white paint above the elbow of his right arm. Seeing the paint made Jane feel she had the advantage, that she knew something about him he didn’t want her to know: he wasn’t nearly as tough as he thought he was. She walked on out and pretended to check the rope that held Nell’s boat, wishing she could do it without making the dock bounce so much.