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soon. The “chance” meeting with Marissa would have to wait until tomorrow. With all the people crowding the path, he’d be fortunate to reach the shore in time to catch the steamer for home. Unless there was another way.
    A narrow trail on his left parted the woods. Light filtering through the branches of the trees lit its downward slope. He glanced back at the crowd on the main path, entered the woods and followed the winding way. The sound of voices faded, gave way to birds twittering their night songs. He stepped cautiously through a cluster of pines where it was too dark to see clearly and entered a clearing. Tents formed rows laid out like streets to his left and right. Children laughed and played games, chased one another in and out of the trees. Adults talked over cooking fires. The smell of coffee tantalized his nose. He took a deep sniff, looked around. The path had disappeared.
    A woman wearing a long apron straightened from a cooking fire, rubbed her back and looked his way. “You took the wrong path if you’re going to the concert. Or else you don’t care if you get there late.” She motioned to her left. “The main path is a short piece that way.”
    He smiled his gratitude. “Thank you. I thought this trail might be a faster way to the shore. Obviously, I was wrong.” He gave her another smile. “Did you say there was a concert tonight?”
    The woman nodded and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand. “Down on the shore. Isn’t that where you was headed? It seems like everybody is going—except those of us with young’uns to watch over. You’d best hurry if you hope to attend. It started at dusk.”
    â€œThank you. You’ve been very helpful. Perhaps I will attend.” He smiled and dipped his head. “Have a good evening.”
    â€œAnd you. Mind your step, there’s pines along that path and their roots will trip the unwary.”
    The woman’s words followed him into the darkness beneath the pines. He picked his way to the wider path and started down, joined with others coming out of narrow side paths and clearings to merge with the crowd ahead of him. He wasn’t the only one late for the concert. There had to be a hundred or more people within his limited scope of vision.
    He scanned the crowd for Marissa’s blond curls as he walked, though he knew it for a fruitless effort. The dusky light made all of the ladies’ hair seem dark. He snorted at his own foolishness and glanced up at the darkening sky. It wouldn’t be long now until the
Colonel Phillips
made its last run of the day. He’d sit on the dock and listen to the music until they ran out the gangplank and he could go aboard.
    Music sounded in the distance. He followed those ahead of him out of the trees onto the shore, stopped and stared. The failing light made it difficult to see, but he was almost certain... He smiled and started forward.
    * * *
    Marissa lifted her hems and moved closer to the lake. A warm, gentle breeze carrying soft music from the concert down the lakefront caressed her face and fluttered the curls at her forehead and temples. She stopped and brushed back the curls, gazed at the
Colonel Phillips
floating on the silvered water at the end of the dock, its lanterns golden orbs against the evening sky.
    May I assist you to your destination?
Sun-streaked hair above a handsome face with a disarming smile rushed back from the oblivion to which she’d assigned them. Seeing Grant Winston at the dining hall this afternoon had brought back the memories of him on the boat. She sighed and shook her head. It was foolishness to entertain romantic thoughts about a man she would likely never see again. But he was so nice. And it was such a perfect night for dreaming...
    â€œMiss Bradley?”
    She froze. It couldn’t be. She turned, stared at the object of her dreaming. “Mr. Winston!”