Lake Season

by Denise Hunter

  “Not at all.” He found her chattering ways utterly charming, but it was probably best to keep that to himself. “I look forward to getting to know you all. I can be packed up and out of your hair early Tuesday.”

  “That would be great. The inspector’s not due until ten thirty, but I’ll need a little time to clean your room. And we’ve gone to extra measures to be sure everything is up to snuff, so I’m sure we’ll pass the inspection with flying colors. We only need to score 70 percent to get the permit—again, something you probably didn’t need to hear.”

  He bit back a smile. “Check-in is at three o’clock?”

  “I can call you when we’re all set here. Do you have a pen? Here, just give me your phone.”

  He did as she asked, and she plugged in her number and sent herself a text. Getting a number from a woman had never been so easy.

  She seemed a little distracted as she handed back his phone.

  “Are you sure you’re all right with this?” he said. “I could easily move into the house for a couple days until things are all clear.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just . . .” She bit her lip, calling attention to the vertical line down the middle of her plump lower lip. Another detail he should write down before he forgot.

  “I was wanting to ask you about a project I’m working on—since research is kind of your thing.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  She tucked both hands into her back pockets. “If I wanted to find someone, how would I go about doing it?”

  “Find someone—like a missing person?”

  “Sort of. I’m not very good with computers, so I’ll probably have to resort to public documents and the library.”

  Now he was curious. Was she looking for a birth parent? An old boyfriend? “What information do you have about the person?”

  “Two people, actually. I have their names—just the first and last—and former addresses.”

  “I can’t imagine it would take too long to locate them, especially on a computer.”

  “I know, but that’s really not my—”

  He was already withdrawing his Mac from his bag and opening it on the desk in his room.

  “Come on in.” He sank into the wooden chair. “What are the names and address? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “It’s actually two names at two different addresses.” She read one of them off her phone and came to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder. “This is awfully nice of you. I’m terrible at this stuff. Grace says I was born in the wrong era. I mean, I can get around a little on there, but I’ve mostly used the computer in school for documents and Excel, though I truly hate spreadsheets.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Well, I am on Facebook. Isn’t everybody?”

  “I’m not.” He scanned the results of the search, but there was nothing that included all the words he’d put in.

  “Really? Are you more a Twitter guy? Instagram? LinkedIn?”

  His lips twitched. “None of the above. But I can send a mean email. Well, not mean as in hostile but—”

  “I understand.”

  “Social media isn’t really my thing. So . . . this information isn’t turning up much of anything.”

  “Well . . . I should’ve mentioned the addresses are very old—dating back to the sixties.”

  “Oh, I see. That is a long time ago.” He was beyond curious, but he didn’t want to pry.

  “I found a lost letter,” Molly blurted.

  He turned and looked up into her sparkling eyes.

  “In the wall downstairs, when my brother was installing the window in the lobby.”

  “In the wall?”

  “Remember how I told you this building used to house the—”

  “Post office.” He was starting to make sense of this. How curious.

  “Right. There was a mail slot, and the letter apparently got stuck in there for all these years.”

  Interesting. Romance may be his genre of choice, but he did love a good mystery. “Are you wanting to forward the letter to its intended recipient then?”

  “Sort of.” She looked down for a long moment before meeting his gaze again, guilt in her eyes. “I already read the letter. I probably shouldn’t have—it’s a federal offense to tamper with mail, but I couldn’t help myself. And now I almost wish I hadn’t, because it’s a love letter. Even worse, it’s a declaration that might’ve changed the course of their lives had the letter gone through.”

  Ah, romance and mystery with a thread of history. “You have me intrigued.”

  Her eyes lit up as she sank onto the footboard of his bed as if pulled there by gravity. “I know, right? Finally, someone who understands. My sister thinks I’m crazy, and my brother . . . ugh. Would you like to read the letter?”

  “And become guilty of a federal offense?” he deadpanned.

  She froze for a moment before giving a soft little laugh. “You’re teasing me. Grace thought I was being ridiculous too. I guess it has been sitting around a long time.”

  “I’d love to read the letter. It sounds like a—”

  She was already halfway out the room. “Be right back.”

  He listened to the sounds of her footsteps going down the hall, a smile playing at his mouth. She was so excited about this letter—not that he could blame her. The mystery intrigued him too. Just not as much as Molly herself did.

  He stood and turned his chair so she could have a seat when she returned, then perched on the bed’s wooden footboard. She was back before he had time to get nervous about having her in his room again.

  She slipped into the room, leaving the door open, and handed him a white envelope. “Here it is.”

  “Have a seat.” He scanned the addresses on the face of the envelope, taking in the feminine script and the four-cent stamp. Then he lifted the flap and removed the sheet of stationery.

  * * *

  Molly watched Adam as he read the letter. His expression remained impassive, a slight glare from the window making it hard to see his eyes behind his glasses.

  He held the letter with steady hands. His fingers were long and tapered, the nails neatly trimmed. Nice hands. Manly hands.

  Why was she thinking about his hands? Her eyes swept upward toward his face. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead as he read. He’d shaved this morning, and she found herself missing the slightly frumpy look of the scruff. Although it gave her a clear view of his jawline.

  He turned toward her, letting the letter fall to his thigh. “That’s quite a letter.” His voice had a new husky note.

  “Thank you. Honestly, my siblings don’t have a romantic bone in their entire bodies. You don’t think I’m crazy for wanting to track them down?”

  “Not at all. I’d do exactly the same.”

  Molly felt her smile broaden. “I knew you’d understand. So where do I start? How do I go about finding them?”

  “They’re in their seventies now—or at least Lizzie is. She doesn’t give Benjamin’s age, but he’s at least eighteen, if I’m interpreting the reference to the war correctly.”

  “Yes, that’s a good point.”

  “I hate to be a killjoy, but I’d suggest starting with death records. They’re public, and there’s no point looking for them if they’ve already passed.”

  She knew he was right. “All right. Where do I find those?”

  “The internet would be your best bet since you don’t know for sure where they were living. You could check local records for Lizzie or Elizabeth, but there’s no guarantee she stayed in Bluebell her whole life.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  “If you come up empty, it’ll get a little more complicated. There are probably hundreds of people in the US with those names. We don’t have social security numbers or birth dates, or even middle names.”

  We.

  Everything else he said went right over her head as she absorbed the unifying pronoun. That word warmed her heart in a way sh
e couldn’t describe or even fully understand.

  “So . . .” he continued when she didn’t respond. “This may very well take a while to work out.”

  “I’ll check the county records first chance I get. Though Levi is kind of on the warpath about the inn. And honestly, I have more to do before opening than I even want to think about.”

  “Let me help with your search.” He shifted a bit, just enough that the glare on his glasses gave way to soft blue eyes, framed in dark lashes.

  “I can’t ask that of you. You’re a guest—I’m supposed to be serving your needs.” Her brother would have her head. He’d already cautioned her about getting too familiar with the guests. Getting Adam involved in her little project definitely crossed the line.

  “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You’ve let me stay here free—for four nights by the time it’s all done and said. The way I see it, I still owe you.”

  She waved his words away. “No, you don’t.”

  “I don’t care to be in someone’s debt, and this is an excellent way to return the favor. Besides which, I love a good mystery, and this one’s aroused my curiosity.”

  “I couldn’t impose. You have your own work to do.”

  “Not so much that I can’t fit in a side project. I’d love to get to the bottom of it as much as you would.”

  He seemed sincere. That was the thing she liked so much about those eyes. They were very sincere. After the debacle with Dominic, that particular trait meant a lot to her.

  “Are you sure you’d have time for it?”

  “Please.” His lips twitched. “You had me at ‘lost letter.’”

  And then, as if the movie reference wasn’t enough, he lifted the letter and sealed the deal. “These people—if they’re still alive—deserve to know what happened. Don’t you think?”

  Molly’s heart gave a hard tug. He did understand. She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was a romantic or simply pragmatic enough to realize how important closure was. But right then Molly felt as if she’d found a kindred spirit.

  “Thank you, Adam,” she said. And she didn’t know if she’d ever meant those words more.

  eight

  “Who wants to do the honors?” Levi asked, holding the wooden vacancy sign that would hang below the inn’s shingle sign on the front lawn.

  Grace elbowed him. “You’re the only one who can reach it, doofus.”

  Levi lifted the sign, not even having to go onto his tiptoes to reach the eyelet hooks.

  Molly watched, swallowing past the achy lump in her throat. She wished her parents could see them now. Most of all she wished they were still here, living out their dream. She put her arm around Grace’s shoulder.

  Can they see us, God? Do they know we’re all right? Can you let them know we are? And please tell them I’m sorry about that last call. I didn’t mean to brush them off.

  “Did I miss the party?” Miss Della said as she came up the sidewalk, all smiles. Her turquoise dress showed off her deep-brown skin, but an enormous bouquet of blue hydrangeas nearly concealed her face. “I heard somebody around here was officially open.”

  “You’re just in time,” Molly said. “Buck sent us the Godfather as a grand opening gift. Stay and eat with us.” Buck’s was the best pizza in town.

  “I just might at that.” Miss Della held out the bouquet to Molly. “Congratulations, kiddos. Your parents would be so proud.”

  Molly took the vase and gave the woman a one-armed hug. “Mama’s favorite. Thank you, Miss Della. They’re beautiful. I’ll put them on the table in the entry.”

  Levi stepped back from the sign, having secured it. They admired it for a moment, as worry settled in Molly’s stomach. What if—

  No. She wouldn’t go there. They were going to make a go of this place. Everything was going to be fine.

  “Now we just need some guests,” Miss Della said, as if reading Molly’s mind.

  “We already have one,” Grace said, following Molly and Levi back up the walkway. “And he’s staying the whole summer.”

  “Is that right,” Miss Della said.

  Once inside, air conditioning swept deliciously over Molly’s skin as she set the flowers on her new table in front of the new window.

  “Perfect,” she pronounced.

  Skye had sent a bouquet of balloons, and they danced on the check-in desk. She’d stopped by first thing that morning to congratulate them on the opening. Cards lined the wall behind the desk. The community had really come together to help them pull this off. From help with the drywall to plumbing to landscaping, Molly wasn’t sure they could’ve done it without their friends and neighbors. It was enough to restore her faith in humanity.

  “Now what’s this about a summer guest, and why haven’t I got wind of it?” Della asked as they made their way to the dining room. Levi began pulling a couple tables together while Molly grabbed the plates.

  “I’m sorry,” Molly said. “My oversight. Will you be able to set up for breakfast in the morning?”

  “Of course. I’m planning to be here every evening to do prep work and come in bright and early to finish up. I already got groceries. Wednesday’s menu is fresh fruit with homemade granola and orange spice muffins.”

  “Yum,” Grace said. “Make extra muffins, please. They’re my favorite. The menus are all printed up and ready, see?”

  “Well, look at that.” Della picked up one of the holders from the table. “These look lovely, Grace. And the daily weather forecast is a nice addition.”

  “I’ll have to print them off each day,” Grace said, “but we’re going to be all about the details.”

  “Anticipate their every need,” Molly added.

  “Y’all sound just like your mama. She’d have loved the way this place turned out.” Della’s gaze fell on each of them in turn, her eyes glassy with tears. “But mostly she’d be so proud of the way you’ve pulled together. I’m proud as punch myself.”

  “Aw, thanks, Miss Della.” Molly squeezed the woman’s hand and blinked back her own tears.

  The house phone rang, and Levi went to answer the call while the ladies finished setting the tables.

  “So who’s our summer guest?” Della asked. “Is he nice?”

  “He’s here on business, researching the area,” Molly said. “And yes, he’s very nice. It’ll be good to have him around all summer.”

  Della gave her a curious look. “And is he single and handsome by any chance?”

  “I meant, good for business,” Molly said, but she could feel the heat rising to her face.

  “Molly’s got a crush on him.” Grace smirked. “She’s doting on him.”

  “I do not. I am not. For heaven’s sake, he’s a guest. I’ll dote on all our guests. That’s our job.” Maybe she was protesting too much. She clamped her mouth shut.

  “She thinks he looks like Ryan Gosling, which he totally does not.”

  “Is he the host from that popular music show?” Della asked.

  “No, he’s the actor from The Notebook.”

  “I just can’t keep up with it all.” She gave Molly a wink. “But it can’t be so bad having a handsome man around all summer long.”

  “He’s a guest,” Molly reiterated as they found their seats at the table. She’d called Adam as soon as they’d passed inspection and let him know all was clear.

  “And yet you’ve roped him into your little romance project,” Grace said, an impish gleam in her eyes.

  Of course Levi chose that exact moment to enter the room, turning his dark gaze on Molly.

  “That sounds intriguing,” Della said. “Tell me everything.”

  Molly gave her sister the stink eye. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  But of course Grace didn’t see it that way and paid no attention to Molly’s nonverbal cues. She rattled off the whole story, from finding the letter to reading its contents, and finally to Molly enlisting Adam’s help.

  Levi gave Molly a flinty look. “You asked our g
uest to help you?”

  “He offered to help,” Molly said with a thrust of her chin. “He wants to help.”

  “What did I tell you about—?”

  “Oh, relax, honey.” Della squeezed Levi’s hand. “This sounds like a wonderful mystery. Now, what was the young lady’s name again? Maybe I know her kinfolk.”

  “Elizabeth Van Buren,” Molly said. “She went by Lizzie. I was going to ask if you’d heard of her or any Van Burens living around here back in the day.”

  “Hmm.” Frown lines formed between Della’s brows. “Not as I can recall. But I was just a babe in the sixties, and they could’ve been summer people for all we know.”

  “That’s true,” Molly said. “But she lived on Church Street. I can show you the letter later. It’s up in my room.”

  “Oh, I’d like that. I’ll bet they met at the old dance hall. It’s where all the young folk of the day hung out.”

  Molly liked that thought. “It’s a good possibility, I guess.”

  “For anyone who’s interested,” Levi said, “we have a party of three coming in at nine and staying for two nights. That’s what the call was about.”

  “Well, that’s great,” Molly said. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because I was too busy learning about all the lines you’ve been crossing with our very first guest.”

  A ding sounded from the bell in the lobby. “Pizza delivery!” a voice called.

  Shooting her one last look, Levi got up and went to meet the guy.

  Della gave one of her rich, throaty chuckles. “Now that’s what I call being saved by the bell.”

  nine

  Molly was behind the check-in desk by seven o’clock the next morning. They had house phones in their bedrooms, and Grace had been on call last night. No calls had come in, but it made for light sleeping. She was bleary-eyed when her alarm went off at six.

  The previous evening she’d registered the guests—a husband, wife, and their adorable five-year-old daughter, Lily. They were in town visiting the wife’s parents, who’d recommended the inn since their house was too cramped to accommodate the little family.