Carley Fortune's Meet Me at the Lake is a cottage country second-chance romance — read an excerpt now
Mirian Njoh will champion Meet Me at the Lake on Canada Reads 2024
Meet Me at the Lake finds 32-year-old Fern Brookbanks stuck: she can't quite stop thinking about one perfect day she spent in her 20s. By chance, she met a man named Will Baxter and the two spent a romantic 24 hours in Toronto, after which they promised to meet up one year later. But Will never showed up.
Now, instead of living in the city like she thought she would, Fern manages her mother's Muskoka resort by the lake, a role she promised herself she'd never take on. Disillusioned with her life, Fern is shocked when Will shows up at her door, suitcase in hand, asking to help. Why is he here after all this time and more importantly, can she trust him to stay? It's clear Will has a secret but Fern isn't sure if she's ready to hear it all these years later.
Meet Me at the Lake will be championed by fashion influencer Mirian Njoh on Canada Reads 2024.
The Canada Reads debates will take place on March 4-7. This year, we are looking for one book to carry us forward.
They will be hosted by Ali Hassan and will be broadcast on CBC Radio One, CBC TV, CBC Gem and on CBC Books.
You can read an excerpt from Meet Me at the Lake below.
"It's Canada Day," Jamie says. "It would mean something to the guests and the staff to see you. It's the start of summer. I'm not asking you to get up on the stage and make a speech before the fireworks begin." He doesn't need to add, The way your mom did. "Just go say hello."
I swallow, and Jamie holds my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. "You can do this. You're so close. You're already dressed. You've been in there a million times." He lowers his voice. "We've done it in there, remember? Booth 3."
I let out a huff. "Of course you know what booth it was."
"I could draw you a map of all the spots we desecrated. The outfitting hut alone..."
"Stop." I'm laughing now, but it's slightly frantic. Here I am with my ex-boyfriend, talking about the places we've had sex at my recently deceased mother's resort. I've been punked by the universe.
I've been punked by the universe.- Carley Fortune
"Fernie, it's no big deal. That's all I'm saying."
I'm about to tell Jamie that he's wrong, that it's a very big deal, but then I see an excuse in the corner of my eye. A very tall man is wheeling a silver suitcase up to the front desk, and there's still no one behind it.
The skyscraper's back is facing us, but you can tell his suit is expensive. Custom made, probably. The black fabric is cut to his frame in the kind of impeccable manner that requires precise measurements and generous room on a credit card. I doubt an off-the-rack number would be long enough for this guy's arms, and the cuff of his sleeve is perfect. So is his slicked-back hair. Inky and glossy and as meticulously styled as his jacket is tailored. He's overdressed, to be honest. This is a beautiful resort, one of the nicest in eastern Muskoka, and the staff is always well put together, but the guests tend to keep things casual, especially in the summer.
"I'm going to go help him," I tell Jamie. "I need practice with check-ins. Come make sure I do it right."
There's no arguing. We can't just let the fancy man stand there.
As we round the desk, I apologize for making him wait.
"Welcome to Brookbanks Resort," I say, glancing up quickly—even with me in my heels, he's got almost a foot on me.
"Did you have any trouble finding us?" I ask, punching a key to wake up the computer. Tall dude still hasn't said anything. The last stretch of road is unpaved, unlit, and has some wicked turns through the bush. Sometimes city people find it stressful, especially when they arrive after sundown. I'm pegging this guy as a Torontonian, though he could be from Montreal. There's a medical conference starting next week—some of the doctors are arriving early, making a holiday of the long weekend.
"No." He runs a hand down his tie. Says nothing more.
"Good." I type in my passcode. "Are you with the dermatologists?" I navigate to the main menu, and when he doesn't answer, I clear my throat and try again. "Do you have a reservation with us?"
"I do." He says the words slowly, like he's scanning them for errors.
I have no idea what his problem is. Men who wear suits like his usually sound a lot more confident. But then I look up, and I'm met with a very handsome, very chiseled, very tense-looking face. He's about my age, and he's strangely familiar. I'm sure I've seen this face before. It's something about the nose. Maybe he's an actor, although celebrity types don't usually show up in suits and a fresh shave—or at least they didn't used to.
He's about my age, and he's strangely familiar. I'm sure I've seen this face before.- Carley Fortune
"The name?"
His eyebrows rise at my question, like he's surprised I've asked. Then I notice how dark his eyes are, black as a crow's wing, and my stomach twists. His posture is flawless. My heart races, pounding in the pads of my fingers and balls of my feet. I search for the scar immediately. And there it is: below his lip on the left side of his chin, barely visible unless you know to look for it. I can't believe I still know to look for it.
But I do.
I know this face.
I know his irises aren't actually black—in the sunlight, they're espresso brown.
I know how he got that scar.
Because even though I've tried to forget him, I know exactly who this man is.
Meet Me at the Lake by Carley Fortune. Used with permission of the publisher, Viking Canada. Copyright 2023 by Carley Fortune.
