Informationen zum Autor Carley Fortune is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Every Summer After, Meet Me at the Lake , and This Summer Will Be Different . She is an award-winning Canadian journalist who's worked as an editor for Refinery29, The Globe and Mail , Chatelaine , and Toronto Life . She lives in Toronto with her husband and two sons. Klappentext #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER · A random connection sends two strangers on a daylong adventure where they make a promise one keeps and the other breaks, with life-changing effects, in this breathtaking novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Every Summer After. Fern Brookbanks has wasted far too much of her adult life thinking about Will Baxter. She spent just twenty-four hours in her early twenties with the aggravatingly attractive, idealistic artist, a chance encounter that spiraled into a daylong adventure in the city. The timing was wrong, but their connection was undeniable: they shared every secret, every dream, and made a pact to meet one year later. Fern showed up. Will didn't. At thirty-two, Fern's life doesn't look at all how she once imagined it would. Instead of living in the city, Fern's back home, running her mother's lakeside resortsomething she vowed never to do. The place is in disarray, her ex-boyfriend's the manager, and Fern doesn't know where to begin. She needs a plana lifeline. To her surprise, it comes in the form of Will, who arrives nine years too late, with a suitcase in tow and an offer to help on his lips. Will may be the only person who understands what Fern's going through. But how could she possibly trust this expensive-suit wearing mirage who seems nothing like the young man she met all those years ago. Will is hiding something, and Fern's not sure she wants to know what it is. But ten years ago, Will Baxter rescued Fern. Can she do the same for him? Leseprobe 1 Now I make it as far as the front desk without anyone noticing me. It's a striking piece, carved from a large tree trunk ­rustic but not shabby, the epitome of Mom's aesthetic­and there's no one behind it. I hurry past, to the office, then shut myself inside and lock the door. The room is more fishing hut than work space. Pine walls, two ancient desks, a small window trimmed with a flimsy plaid curtain. I doubt it's changed much since the lodge was built in the 1800s. There's nothing to suggest how much time Mom spent here, except for a photo of me as a baby pinned to the timber and a faint whiff of Clinique perfume. Dropping into one of the worn leather chairs, I switch on the plastic tabletop fan. I'm already sticky, but it's stifling in here, one of the few spots in the building without air-­conditioning. I raise my elbows like a scarecrow and swing my hands back and forth. Pit stains are the last thing I need. While I wait to cool off before changing into heels, I stare at a stack of our brochures. Brookbanks Resort­Your Muskoka Getaway Awaits, declares a chipper font above a photo of the beach at sunset, the lodge looming in the background like a country cottage castle. It almost makes me laugh­it's Brookbanks Resort I've failed to get away from. Maybe Jamie will forget I agreed to do this tonight, and I can sneak back to the house, slither into stretchy pants, and douse myself with a bucket of cold white wine. The door handle rattles. No such luck. Fernie? Jamie calls. What's with the lock? You decent in there? I need five minutes, I reply, voice pinched. You're not gonna bail, right? You swore you'd do this, he says. But the reminder is unnecessary. I've been dreading it all day. All my life maybe. I know, I know. I'm finishing up some paperwork. I clamp my eyes shut at the mistake. I'm almost done. What paperwo...

Autorentext

Carley Fortune is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Every Summer After, Meet Me at the Lake, and This Summer Will Be Different. She is an award-winning Canadian journalist who’s worked as an editor for Refinery29, The Globe and Mail, Chatelaine, and Toronto Life. She lives in Toronto with her husband and two sons.

Klappentext

**#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER ∙ A random connection sends two strangers on a daylong adventure where they make a promise one keeps and the other breaks, with life-changing effects, in this breathtaking novel from the New York Times bestselling author of *Every Summer After.

Fern Brookbanks has wasted far too much of her adult life thinking about Will Baxter. She spent just twenty-four hours in her early twenties with the aggravatingly attractive, idealistic artist, a chance encounter that spiraled into a daylong adventure in the city. The timing was wrong, but their connection was undeniable: they shared every secret, every dream, and made a pact to meet one year later. Fern showed up. Will didn’t.

At thirty-two, Fern’s life doesn’t look at all how she once imagined it would. Instead of living in the city, Fern’s back home, running her mother’s lakeside resort—something she vowed never to do. The place is in disarray, her ex-boyfriend’s the manager, and Fern doesn’t know where to begin.

She needs a plan—a lifeline. To her surprise, it comes in the form of Will, who arrives nine years too late, with a suitcase in tow and an offer to help on his lips. Will may be the only person who understands what Fern’s going through. But how could she possibly trust this expensive-suit wearing mirage who seems nothing like the young man she met all those years ago. Will is hiding something, and Fern’s not sure she wants to know what it is.

But ten years ago, Will Baxter rescued Fern. Can she do the same for him?

Leseprobe
1

Now

I make it as far as the front desk without anyone noticing me. It s a striking piece, carved from a large tree trunk ­rustic but not shabby, the epitome of Mom s aesthetic ­and there s no one behind it. I hurry past, to the office, then shut myself inside and lock the door.

The room is more fishing hut than work space. Pine walls, two ancient desks, a small window trimmed with a flimsy plaid curtain. I doubt it s changed much since the lodge was built in the 1800s. There s nothing to suggest how much time Mom spent here, except for a photo of me as a baby pinned to the timber and a faint whiff of Clinique perfume.

Dropping into one of the worn leather chairs, I switch on the plastic tabletop fan. I m already sticky, but it s stifling in here, one of the few spots in the building without air-­conditioning. I raise my elbows like a scarecrow and swing my hands back and forth. Pit stains are the last thing I need.

While I wait to cool off before changing into heels, I stare at a stack of our brochures. Brookbanks Resort ­Your Muskoka Getaway Awaits, declares a chipper font above a photo of the beach at sunset, the lodge looming in the background like a country cottage castle. It almost makes me laugh ­it s Brookbanks Resort I ve failed to get away from.

Maybe Jamie will forget I agreed to do this tonight, and I can sneak back to the house, slither into stretchy pants, and douse myself with a bucket of cold white wine.

The door handle rattles.

No such luck.

Fernie? Jamie calls. What s with the lock? You decent in there?

I need five minutes, I reply, voice pinched.

You re not gonna bail, right? You swore you d do this, he says. But the reminder is unnecessary. I ve been dreading it all day. All my life maybe.

I know, I know. I m finishing up some paperwork. I clamp my eyes shut at the mistake. I m almost done.

What paperwork? Is it the linen order? We have a system for that.

My mom had a system for everything, and Jamie doesn t want me messing with any of them.

He s worried. It s peak season, but many of the guest rooms are vacant. I ve been back for six weeks, and Jamie thinks it s…