Not Just Friends. Kate Hoffmann

they chanted together. “Winnehawkee Winne-who? Winnehawkee. Are you true? Winnehawkee. We’re true blue. Winnehawkee, Winnehawkee, whoo!”

      “I’m sorry I missed your call. I was just getting Derek and Steven set up in a cabin.”

      “Derek and Steven are there?” Julia asked.

      “Yes.” Kate lowered her voice. “And they’re now a couple.”

      “Derek and Steven?”

      “Umm-hmm. They own a construction firm in Green Bay and they brought a lot of tools, a trailer full of building supplies and two cases of very expensive wine.”

      “Who else is there?” Julia held her breath. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his name. Adam Sutherland. There, she’d said it—or thought it. Adam Sutherland. The memories came flooding back and she felt like her heart was about to burst into a million pieces. She knew he and Mason were still friends. There was always a chance.

      “Just them,” Kate said. “There’ll be more coming tomorrow. And I think Frannie and Ben might arrive in the morning. I made up Woodchuck for you and Frannie. I knew you’d want to be close to the bathrooms.”

      “Old Woodchuck,” she said. “I wonder if—” Julia cleared her throat, brushing the memory aside. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning then. Go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. I hope you have your tennis racquet, because we have to play this week.”

      “I haven’t played in years, and we haven’t put up the new nets yet, but I’m ready,” Kate said. “By the way, I’m counting on you to do some baking for us. I can’t be responsible for feeding eight people all week long.”

      “I have pies in the back of my car. And pastries and croissants for breakfast tomorrow morning. I even made a little Winnehawkee cake for dinner tomorrow night. It looks just like the lodge.”

      “That’s perfect! We have a wonderful dinner planned for tomorrow night,” Kate said. “Not the usual hot dogs and baked beans.”

      “Good,” Julia said. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

      “Night, Jules. And thanks so much for helping out with this. Mason and I really appreciate it.”

      Julia hung up the phone and stared out at the road ahead of her. Eight people. Kate and Mason, Frannie and Ben, Steve and Derek and her. Who was the eighth? Could it be him?

      She’d met Adam Sutherland her third summer at camp. Even as a twelve-year-old, he’d been every tween’s dream. With his dark hair and pale blue eyes and his devastating smile, every girl at camp had fallen in love with him at first sight. But for Julia, it had been just the start of a decade-long romance, entirely unrequited and yet as real as any she’d ever experienced.

      She’d seen him once since leaving camp eight years ago. He’d been strolling down Michigan Avenue right before Christmas with a beautiful woman on his arm. She knew he worked in finance at his father’s venture capital company in downtown Chicago. She’d looked him up on Google a number of times over the years, piecing together a fairly comprehensive biography. She’d even found a few photos that had been taken at charity events around town.

      Though the infatuation had faded long ago, the curiosity was still there. And when her dating life seemed to be at its lowest point, she’d wonder what it might have been like if she’d been able to attract the attention of a guy like Adam.

      As a teenager, she’d put all her thoughts about him in her camp journal which she’d hidden beneath a loose floorboard in Woodchuck cabin. She remembered the day she began the journal at age ten and then the day she left camp for the last time, the journal still in its hiding place. She’d walked away from Winnehawkee determined to forget the journal and Adam Sutherland. She thought by leaving the record of her adolescent angst behind, she’d finally have the closure she so desperately needed.

      But even now, after all these years, she thought of Adam whenever she thought of Winnehawkee. Julia giggled softly. Gosh, she’d been a fool for that boy. She’d tried so hard to avoid him, pretending that he meant nothing to her. And whenever she did attempt to attract his attention, she managed to make a complete idiot of herself.

      There was the time she stuffed the top of her swim-suit with toilet paper, only to get pushed in the water and watch her newfound bust line float away. And then there was the time she made him a lopsided birthday cake in the camp kitchen—she’d tripped on a tree root carrying it to his cabin, splattering the purple frosting over the front of her T-shirt.

      But the worst experience, the one that ranked number one in the pantheon of embarrassing moments was when she’d finally poured out all her feelings in a letter. She’d screwed up her courage and left it beneath the pillow of his bunk. Then she learned that he’d switched bunks with a cabin-mate just that week. Dougie O’Neill spent the rest of the summer following her around, trying to kiss her, certain that the letter had been meant for him.

      As counselors, she and Adam had worked together regularly, but she’d always kept her distance, treating him like a friend. Hiding her feelings for him, especially when he’d managed to charm nearly every other female counselor, had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life, but it kept her from further humiliation.

      Julia moaned softly. Thankfully, her luck with men had gotten a bit better over time, but the results had stayed the same. She enjoyed the fantasy of love, the possibilities and the anticipation, much more than she every enjoyed a real relationship. Men just never lived up to her expectations, at least not the men she met.

      Julia suspected her insecurities and disappointments were probably rooted in her parents’ divorce, but she told herself that she just hadn’t met the man of her dreams yet. When he came along, she’d know and then everything would make sense. Love would finally become a reality.

      Over the next thirty miles, her thoughts remained mired in memories of her years at camp. So much of it was good, and even in the worst of times, there had always been dreams of Adam Sutherland to keep her going. Would the journal still be there? Perhaps if she read it again, it might give her more insight into why her love life was so messed up now.

      After graduating with a degree in art, she’d fallen into a job as a cake decorator at one of Chicago’s most popular patisseries. A few years ago, she’d struck out on her own, building a successful boutique bakery and wedding cake business. But in two months, she was going to begin the adventure of her life, moving to Paris to study pastry making with one of her mentors.

      Jean-Paul had been a teacher first, a friend second, and after she’d finished pastry school, a lover. Though they’d shared a passion for baking, that passion had never really taken off in the bedroom.

      In truth, her expectations between the sheets had always been more than the men in her life were able to deliver. Where was the frantic need, the overwhelming attraction, the sense that sex was a release instead of merely an enjoyable activity? She’d always wanted to be swept away by lust and then love. But it had never happened.

      Maybe she’d meet a handsome Frenchman in Paris and have a torrid affair. She certainly hadn’t met many eligible men working in the wedding industry. She was so ready to just throw caution to the wind and indulge, to forget about all of her past mistakes. For once, she wouldn’t think about love. She’d think about pleasure first. After all, when in Paris …

      But before all that could happen, she needed to say good-bye to the old Julia McKee, the girl who pined after the boy of her dreams for ten long summers. Then, she’d pack her things, leave Chicago and say hello to a new and improved Julia McKee.

      Julia focused on the road, following the familiar route to the camp, surprised that she was able to remember it after so many years. But as she got farther from the small towns, the landmarks were less familiar. She watched the GPS on the dash and slowed as the car approached the road that led to the camp.

      And then it was there, the familiar yellow and brown sign. It had recently been painted and reflected the headlights from the