“You ready, Frasier?” Beckett asked.
“Belay on.”
“On belay.”
Frasier made his climb with minimal trouble, only losing his footing once and catching himself before Beckett had to intervene. By the time he headed off with the rest of the Pink Gaydies for evening drinks at the boathouse, he was enjoying the rank of conquering hero.
Beckett began checking and coiling the ropes.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Taylor assured him.
He only grunted.
“Beck.”
In the expectant silence, he lifted his eyes to Taylor’s—eyes the same color and shape as Sarah’s, but with a sharpness he’d learned to recognize over the summer.
“She’s crazy about you. She didn’t change her mind.”
He sure as hell hoped not because he was all in with Sarah. Not pressing these past couple of months had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But Beckett knew she had to come to a decision on her own or she’d always doubt herself. “Guess we’ll see.”
They hauled equipment back to the shed and stowed it.
“I’m headed up to the boathouse. You coming?” Taylor asked.
“Nah. I’m headed back to my cabin, grabbing a shower. See you at dinner, maybe.”
As she headed on up the trail, someone knocked on the doorframe. Beckett whipped around, expecting to see Sarah. The balding guy in the doorway was a severe disappointment. Shaking off his mood, Beckett worked up a smile. “Hey Trent. How was the hike today?”
“A welcome relief from all the fifties-themed everything. I love my wife, but dear God, a man can only take so much.”
Beckett’s lips twitched. Trent Cunningham had given his wife this week at camp for an anniversary present because Grease was her favorite movie. He hadn’t realized exactly how hard-core the theme would be when he agreed to come along. In between all the dance classes, fifties makeovers, and karaoke, he’d ended up spending every day in Beckett’s neck of the woods, climbing, ziplining, and hiking in the nearby state park. Beckett liked the guy.
“Looking for more escape
activities for tomorrow?” Beckett asked.
“No, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“All right. Come on in.”
Trent made himself at home, sitting at the table. “I had a chat about you with Michael Tully today.”
Beckett frowned. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to see if his impression of you matched mine. And it does. He gave you a glowing recommendation.”
“Recommendation for what, exactly?”
Trent smiled. “I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m CEO of The Balanos Society. We’re a non-profit dedicated to wilderness conservation.”
The name was familiar. Beckett wracked his brain. “Out of…North Carolina?”
“Yeah. We’re based in Raleigh, though we’ve got projects stretching through most of the Appalachian Trail. We’re spearheading some of the efforts toward reforestation in the Gatlinburg area after the fires down there. It’s a big job, and we could use someone who can liaise with the National Park Services and other key stakeholders in the area. Someone with experience in that world, who would also be qualified to get out and get his hands dirty on site to document progress of the project. I think you’d be great in that role.”
Beckett stared at him. “You’re offering me a job?”
“Yeah. We’re in early stages of the project, and there are numerous positions to fill, but I’d love to get you in on the ground floor. You interested?”