He slid onto the picnic bench. “You didn’t go?” Unwrapping the sandwich, he bit with relish.
Philip grimaced. “She canceled.”
“Linnie canceled the meeting about the new landscape?”
“Got a call from Cat telling me not to come.”
“That’s unusual. Why didn’t you hear directly from Linnie?”
“Cat didn’t explain. Just delivered the news, then hung up.” Philip raked his hand through his hair. “Talk about a disappointment. I’m counting on the work. The rhododendrons are set for delivery, and I thought Linnie would spring for the azaleas too.”
“The inn does need to improve curb appeal.” Like everything else at the Wayfair, general maintenance took a hit seven years ago. “Odd for Linnie to put you off when you’ve been mapping out the improvements for weeks.”
Nor did cancelling at the last minute make sense. Linnie was conscientious to a fault. She delighted returning visitors with questions about their families or favorite hobbies. She never forgot an employee’s birthday, and she sent holiday cards to nearly everyone in town. She wouldn’t put Philip off without a good reason.
His brother continued. “There’s something wrong at the inn. Daisy from housekeeping was at the drugstore. She said Jada looks like she could spit fire. Cat was crying.”
“That’s not good.”
“Think the landscaping job’s canceled?”
Daniel tossed down the sandwich. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Linnie has been thinking about upgrading the grounds for years.” The boxwood lining the inn’s golden sandstone exterior was overgrown, a real eyesore.
The reassurance didn’t assuage his brother’s doubt. “I wouldn’t be so sure. The way Daisy was talking, they’re dealing with a crisis up there.”
“What sort of crisis?”
Not financial—Linnie’s careful management was working its magic. If she harbored a fault, it was a fear of moving too quickly. Any number of banks would grant the Wayfair a line of credit. Bank loans too. The inn’s cautious manager couldn’t stomach risk.
“Something about a letter,” Philip said. “Came in today’s mail.”
What sort of correspondence would make coolheaded Jada furious and urge Cat to bring on the waterworks? Worried now, Daniel absently watched Fancy racing between picnic tables with Puddles on her heels.
He asked, “What about Linnie? She’s also upset?”
“No idea.” Philip drummed his thumbs on the table. “I asked Daisy if she knew the contents of the letter. She didn’t.” He stopped drumming, looked up. “Think I should call? Try to reschedule?”
“In a day or two. If there’s a problem, give Linnie time to sort it out. She loves the designs. You’ve spent weeks revising sketches, coming up with the perfect combination of plant stock.”
Philip gestured at the empty buildings on the other side of the circle. “Bro, you’re confident I won’t join their ranks?”
From behind, an elegant voice said, “Personally I’m not confident any business in town is safe.”
Together, they turned to their unexpected visitor. Shutting her sun parasol, Frances ducked into the shade. She didn’t usually barge into conversations, and Daniel suspected there was a good reason for the intrusion.
“I’m sorry, Philip.” She perched beside his brother on the bench. “The letter isn’t good news.” Daniel caught the distress in her eyes as she regarded him. “Freddie wrote to his sister.”
The news took him aback. “He has the gall to bother her, after the mess he caused?”
“I suspect he views the past differently than the rest of us.”
“Doubtful he thinks about the pain he caused.” Frowning, Daniel stared through the dappled shade at a point that didn’t exist. Irritation followed as he considered the cautious attempts Linnie was making to put her world back together. “She’s been through enough. Her father’s stroke could’ve killed him, and Treat sure wasn’t happy about retirement. Linnie wasn’t happy about taking over either.”
“Treat and Sarah never prepared her for the responsibilities of running the Wayfair,” Frances agreed. “Their greatest ambition was for their daughter to marry and give them grandchildren. The fools. She’s smarter than they guessed. All the attention they showered on Freddie, as if she wasn’t half as talented.”
“She’s damn talented,” Daniel shot back, a defensive tone coloring his words. It bothered him how fully Linnie’s parents underestimated her. “She’s done a good job breathing life back into the place. An impossible feat for most people, yet she’s making headway. Look at the mess she had with the IRS. All taken care of.”
“If Freddie doesn’t tamper in her affairs, she’ll experience true success. Not overnight. But with enough hard work, she’ll have the inn back to capacity bookings.”
“If she succeeds, those tourism dollars will rebuild the town.” He glanced at Frances swiftly. “You believe Freddie’s on his way back?”
“I do. And if he causes more trouble, the Wayfair may not survive.”
The pronouncement sent worry across his brother’s face. Daniel, a more stubborn adversary, refused to buy into the gloomy statement.
“You’re speculating,” he told Frances. “I’ll wager Freddie’s happy in California. No reason for him to set foot in Ohio. You’re guessing at his intentions.”
“Hardly.”
She seemed about to add something else. Her hesitation, more than her dire predictions, sent unease through Daniel.
“How can you guess at Freddie’s plans?” he demanded. “Are you getting this from a crystal ball?”
“I don’t have a crystal ball, nor do I need one. Isn’t it obvious? The letter is his calling card.”
Daniel chewed this over. “Even if you’re correct, Linnie’s older now,” he finally said. “Mature. He won’t walk over her a second time.”
“I agree she’s proven herself an accomplished businesswoman, but she’s still fragile. All the shops that closed . . . She isn’t responsible, but she does carry tremendous guilt. Look at how she’s cared for Jada since the bakery closed, and Cat since her event planning business went under. She’s given them new jobs at the inn and free lodgings in the south wing.” In quiet reflection Frances ran her fingers down her sun parasol before adding, “If Freddie throws the Wayfair back in peril, what then? Or do you believe she’ll win singlehandedly once again?”
A challenge, and Daniel’s emotions tumbled before it. “She’s better prepared now precisely because she’s older. She won’t let him undo all her hard work.”
He said the last of it with thin conviction. When Linnie’s world broke apart, his respect for her ability to navigate her own path had encouraged him to stand by. Blunting his better instincts, he’d let her fight alone.
It was an error he sorely regretted.
Unease shifted through Daniel. If Frances was correct, would he make the same mistake again?
Chapter 3
With a grunt, Linnie hauled herself from the tranquility of sleep. An uncomfortable weight pressed down on her thighs.
Bleary-eyed, she regarded the woman roosting on her like a vulture. Tall, slender, Jada was a good four inches taller and quite a bit stronger. She also possessed a stubborn streak that beat Linnie’s handily.
“Jada, we’re too old for slumber parties. What are you doing in my room?”
“Little Miss Faint Heart, you are not going back to sleep.” Jada dropped the full weight of her athletic body on her prisoner. “You’ve worn through the last thread of my patience.”
“Get off!”
“Only if you promise.”
The inference was as subtle as a two-by-four. “That’s blackmail,” Linnie growled. “Totally unlike you.”
“As if I care. It’s been twenty-four hours. Open the letter.”
“No.” Pushing free, Linnie got out of bed.
“You act like you’ve been sitting shiva for years, which I’d forgive if you were Jewish. You can
deal with whatever Freddie has to say.”
Although it was early summer, the air held a chill. A typical occurrence, since the heating and cooling units in the south wing were shot. Even so, the three-story wing boasted some of the prettiest views of the lake and the sweep of pine, maple, and oak trees in the forest beyond. The guest rooms were among the largest at the inn, with individual sitting rooms, where business tycoons in ages past had enjoyed a late-night brandy in front of the licking flames of the fireplace.
Shrugging into her robe, Linnie stalked to the dresser. Last night she’d tossed down the letter with the unrealistic hope that gnomes would run off with it while she slept. Or she’d awaken to discover the correspondence had never existed in the first place. Either solution would’ve met with her approval since she didn’t have the strength to deal with Freddie. Their relationship had gone south clear back in childhood.
Certain there was no way to fix it now, she stuffed the letter into her pocket.
Jada tracked her movements with ill-concealed frustration. “Girl, you’ve got to screw your head on straight. Pretending he isn’t reaching out won’t make the letter go away. What if he’s writing about something important, like he needs a kidney transplant?”
“Stop exaggerating. Freddie’s never been sick a day in his life.”
“Not true. Remember when we were in eighth grade? Your brother almost missed his high school graduation. Running a fever, bedridden for days—your Mom was frantic.”
“Jada, you’re a ninny. Freddie wasn’t sick. Just another one of his great performances. You know why he was skipping school.”
At last Jada’s neurons fired. “Oh. Right. That was the spring your parents hired the young tart from Tennessee.”
“Are you kidding? She was forty years old if she was a day.” The woman had arrived with an impressive résumé in hotel management. Other more enviable resources trumped her human resource skills, including an hourglass shape and a Southern drawl capable of ensnaring willing suitors. Considering, Linnie added, “I never blamed her. Freddie didn’t require much encouragement in the sexual arena. My parents were furious when they found Mr. On-Death’s-Door camped out in her bed.”
“He’s probably still Playmate of the Year.” Jada paused in dreamy reflection. “We all had a crush on him. Our mothers did too.”
“None of you had an ounce of sense.” Coffee. There was a chance of surviving the conversation with a heart-thumping jolt of caffeine. She risked a glance at her friend, lounging on the bed in thermal long johns and the silly zebra slippers Linnie had bought her as a joke gift last Christmas. “Fix your hair, will you? You look like Jimi Hendrix.”
Rolling her eyes, Jada flopped down on the pillow.
“If you insist on rousting me at dawn’s first light, we might as well eat,” Linnie remarked in a more agreeable tone. Her stomach rumbled. “Will you make apple pancakes? I’ll chop up the walnuts.” Excessive calories were the perfect complement to caffeine overload.
“You want a batch of my special pancakes? Here’s the deal. I’m never making them again if you keep acting like a pigheaded fool.”
“Keep pigs out of this. Cat’s dream is still giving me the willies.”
“Speaking of Cat, she talked to her mother last night. The Sirens have another meeting scheduled.”
“Don’t tell me they’re back at the lake.”
“They went to Sweet Lake Circle. They’re showering you and the town with protective vibes.”
“They’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“Cat believes they’ll protect us, burn incense around town, or make charms to hang around the Wayfair. I’d hold out for divine intervention, but it might take too long. Trouble this bad, the Sirens are the only solution.”
Linnie ditched the irritation and located her common sense. “Enough with the old woman voodoo. Is there someone I can bribe to get them to stop? At the very least this will disrupt the planning for the anniversary party.”
“Don’t underestimate the Sirens. They’re not as silly as you think.”
Right. “If you won’t make breakfast, then I’m getting dressed. I should go over the numbers before Philip arrives. I’d like him to start on the new plantings ASAP. I hope he doesn’t need a bulldozer to remove the boxwood.” The racket would irritate guests, but the spindly old shrubs were seven feet tall.
“Relax. We canceled for you. Cat made the call.”
She halted in the center of the suite. “Why cancel my appointment with our favorite landscape architect? We took a vote at the last employee meeting. Everyone agreed to a hold on wage increases so we can start sprucing up the place.” The nearly unanimous vote had been heartwarming. Sure, a few of the women in housekeeping were fuming—if Linnie was moving forward, they preferred to send the ancient washers and dryers to meet their maker.
“Linnie, the meeting was yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you remind me?”
Jada gave a look implying she was dealing with a dunce. “Gosh, let’s see. You climbed the ladder, cleaned the chandelier for ten seconds, and came back down. You flew out of the ballroom so quickly I couldn’t find you for hours. I would’ve sent out hound dogs, but we don’t have any.”
Fair enough. Her brother’s attempt to make contact was a more difficult blow than anticipated. A long walk in the forest had provided the best remedy.
“I’m sorry I took off.” The disappearing act had clearly rattled Jada. When she smiled, Linnie added, “I hope Philip isn’t upset. All those weeks coming up with designs free of charge. The work means a lot to him.”
“He’ll forgive you.”
She stepped toward the bathroom, hesitated. “I don’t have anything on my calendar this morning. I’ll run down to Sweet Lake Circle, see if Philip has time to chat. Have any fresh brownies in the kitchen?”
Jada laughed. “Fancy will be delighted. I’ll pack a box.”
At the bickering outside, Daniel stopped pouring kibble into the dog bowl.
Puddles bounded into the living room behind him. Together, man and beast watched the gaggle of Sirens marching down Orchard Lane. In the lead Frances and Silvia batted each other with dried gourds on sticks. The weapons appeared less life threatening than the insults they lobbed.
Amused, he returned to the kitchen to feed Puddles and finish breakfast. Since time immemorial, women had met up at the lake or in the circle during odd hours. None of the men in town understood why grown women chose to stick feathers in their hair or cavort in chilly waters beneath the moon. Before the town’s decline, several of the Sirens had sold handmade jewelry at the now-defunct gift shop. The earrings and necklaces were fashioned with the shells of freshwater mollusks washed up on Sweet Lake’s beach and pretty rocks scavenged in the forest.
In Daniel’s estimation, the group was harmless. The primary, if unspoken, reason to join the Sweet Lake Sirens seemed obvious. Entry gave a woman the perfect excuse to drink too many of Silvia’s delicious mojitos and complain about a husband, living or dead.
He nursed his coffee as his dog made short work of the kibble. Why were the Sirens meeting this morning? Hopefully Frances’s prediction about Freddie returning was off base. Linnie had enough responsibilities without dealing with her brother.
His phone buzzed.
Philip skipped the pleasantries. “I can’t tell if Fancy’s getting sick.”
“Temp?” Daniel eyed Puddles. The beast rooted for crumbs by the fridge and eyed him back.
“Cool as a cucumber. Says her tummy hurts, though.”
“What about her ears?” Fancy had a history of earaches.
A pause, then, “Says her ears don’t hurt.”
Puddles butted him in the thigh, prodding Daniel to grab the croissant still warm from the microwave. “Does she want to spend the day at summer camp?” he asked, flinging the croissant into the air.
Muffled conversation, then, “She’d like your esteemed opinion, Counselor.”
Daniel took a
last swig from his cup. “I don’t think she wants to go. You’re up at the Dufour place this morning?” Frances owned a beaut of a colonial on Highland. His brother was planting a new rose bed in back, complete with an arbor.
“Supposed to be there in fifteen minutes. I have a meeting out of town afterward. Bidding on a landscape job for a new office park near the highway.” Philip hesitated before adding, “Scaring up a babysitter will take half an hour.”
“Call me when you have someone lined up, and tell Fancy I’ll pick her up by three o’clock.” He was in court later this morning, then drawing up a will for a family in town. A light day.
“Thanks, bro. Expect me no later than dinnertime.”
His brother was about to hang up when Daniel heard himself say, “Any word from Linnie?”
A mistake. Puddles, his matted snout hunting the linoleum for a second croissant, abandoned the search and dropped onto his haunches. He gave out a moan so intense, his master got a visual of Fancy having a rare tantrum in public.
Philip whistled, impressed. “Man, what’s with the dog?”
“Forgot to feed him,” he lied. Mortified, he wafted the box of croissants beneath the traitor’s snout. Puddles continued moaning. Daniel spilled the entire box onto the floor.
“Sounds bad. Do mutts get cavities?”
“They have teeth just like us. So, yeah. I guess they do.”
“Should you take him to the vet?”
“No.” Maybe. In between moans, Puddles made short work of a dozen croissants. Was it okay to give antacids to a dog?
Philip chuckled. “If you decide to take him in, Fancy won’t mind tagging along. Just don’t let her see anything small and furry. I don’t have your dedication to animal welfare. She’s been jonesing for a bunny rabbit.”
“All right.”
He let Puddles out one last time before fetching his briefcase. From the picture window, the goofy beast, tongue lolling and floppy ears twitching, watched him stride down Orchard for the short walk to Sweet Lake Circle. Some people were cut out for the frenetic energy of the city, the miles of concrete, and the relationships that bubbled up like champagne but dissipated just as quickly. Daniel wasn’t one of them. After law school, he’d tried a short stint at a firm in New York City. He’d missed the crickets bringing in the night.
Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1) Page 3