Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1)

by Christine Nolfi

  Daniel scrubbed his palms across his cheeks. “Let me get this straight. You’ve returned to make amends with your sister?”

  “In part. And only if you’ll help me with another matter.” Uncharacteristic remorse flickered through Freddie’s expression. Instantly the emotion disappeared. “First, I need an assurance you’ll respect the attorney-client privilege. Nothing we discuss gets back to my sister or anyone else in town. Agreed?”

  Daniel suffered the uneasy notion he was dancing with the devil. “I help, and you’ll make things right?”

  “If you don’t trust me, I’ll put it in writing.”

  “I’ll draft the agreement first thing tomorrow.”

  Freddie released a short laugh. “Fine, Counselor.” The merriment didn’t reach his eyes. “Afterward, I’ll have you contact the boy’s family.”

  “What boy?”

  “A starstruck kid. He wanted to work in the industry.”

  “Employee of yours?”

  “Bryce didn’t have the qualifications. Several actors on my last film paid him under the table to run errands. I should’ve thrown him off the lot, but he did have an eagerness to please. So I let him stay.”

  “Sounds like you made a mistake.”

  “The accident didn’t happen on the lot. Don’t ask me to take responsibility.”

  An unexpected revelation, and Daniel rocked back on his heels. “He was injured?” Freddie nodded, and despite his reluctance to help, Daniel found himself sorting through the legal ramifications. “Even if he wasn’t an employee, you’re not in the clear. He can sue your production company.”

  “He won’t sue.”

  Now it was Daniel’s turn to laugh. “I’ve always thought of you as a lot of things, but naïve isn’t one of them.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Got that right. Care to explain?”

  “Bryce thinks of me as . . .” His voice drifting off, Freddie walked to the foyer. Apparently the turn in the conversation bothered him.

  Trying to fit the pieces together, Daniel followed. “Thinks of you as what?”

  “Never mind. It’s not important. What does matter is Bryce’s reluctance to accept my help. He’s too proud.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “Persuade his parents. We can agree you are persuasive in all matters—except one.” A taunt glittered in Freddie’s eyes. “Why is that? You have the finesse of a politician. You can talk anyone into anything. Why is my sister immune to your persuasions?”

  A direct assault, and Daniel’s heart seized. “We’re close friends. Leave it at that.”

  A cruel sort of amusement played with Freddie’s lips. “You’ve never told her how you feel? Astonishing.”

  Daniel wiped the emotion from his face. “Here’s the thing,” he replied with rigid calm. “The carefree Linnie you remember? She died when you dropped your responsibilities on her shoulders. When she wasn’t letting members of the staff go—a process that gave her hives for months—she was busy getting your parents settled in Florida. She doesn’t date. Doesn’t take time off, doesn’t laugh much—and Lord knows I miss her laughter. Fixing your mess consumes her days.” The intensity seeping into his voice brought him to a stop. In a more professional tone, he said, “I need the details of Bryce’s accident and an understanding of how you’d like to help him.”

  “Let’s cover the details tomorrow.” Wearily, Freddie glanced at his watch. “Long flight. I have to find somewhere to stay. When should I drop by your office?”

  Snapping out a time, Daniel brought the meeting to a close. His guest walked out the door, and he shut his eyes tight.

  Why promise to keep Linnie in the dark? Attorney-client privilege notwithstanding, it was a decision he was sure to regret.

  On the cedar deck outside the Sunshine Room, guests sipped drinks beneath star-studded skies. The kitchen staff was finishing for the night, and Linnie had let all but two of the waitresses leave. Behind the canopied bar, the bartender and his assistant would serve drinks until midnight or the last guests returned to their rooms, whichever came first.

  The Wayfair drew families and couples seeking rejuvenation in the rural setting. The days saw many of them out on the lake enjoying water sports or trekking the paths in the woods. By nightfall, most of the guests were spent and rarely stayed up late. As the inn’s manager, Linnie usually remained downstairs until the bar staff prepared to leave. Tonight her sedate linen dress seemed more constricting than usual, her black pumps too tight. Ascending the stairwell to the south wing, she decided to change into tights and a lightweight sweater.

  Leaving her suite, she caught the murmur of Jada’s and Cat’s voices. She stuck her head into Cat’s room. On the bed, a variety of trinkets surrounded them.

  The crisp scent of lavender tickled Linnie’s nose. There were other more subtle scents—marjoram, rosemary, and a hint of pungent clove. She picked up a small bundle of herbs tied with simple twine. Pink feathers stuck out from beneath.

  “The answer is no.” She cast a look of disapproval on her pajama-clad friends. “Jada, if I’d known you were up here celebrating craft day, I would’ve asked you to help the staff close up the kitchen. Cat, you could’ve stuck around to help the waitresses. We still have guests outside looking for refills.”

  Cat flicked a curtain of glossy hair over her shoulder. “What choice do we have?” she retorted. “Mami has the Sirens making amulets for us to wear, but we can’t wait for them to finish. I’m not going to sleep until I’m sure we’ve protected the grounds. I’m tired of having nightmares.”

  “And your mother wants you to hang this stuff around the Wayfair?” Silvia was a crack accountant, but her superstitions made no sense.

  “She says it’ll help.”

  “Well, she’s nuts.” Unfortunately, Frances also believed herbs were useful for the most unlikely problems, like keeping Freddie from stepping inside town. No doubt they’d scared Silvia’s husband out of the Mendoza kitchen while they devised silly remedies.

  “Linnie, there’s nothing wrong with insurance.”

  “Spiritual insurance? Cat—no. If you and Jada are determined to hang this stuff around your necks, that’s as far as it goes. I’m not having my guests find herbs dangling from doorknobs or sprinkled underfoot.”

  “You’re gutless and shortsighted.”

  “Because I don’t want charms littering the inn? Freddie isn’t coming back!”

  Jada, whose nervous gestures were fast returning her curls to the Jimi Hendrix style, leapt off the bed. “Have it your way,” she said, coming nose to nose. “Want us to stop with the superstition? Then read the letter. If Freddie’s merely trying to open the lines of communication, I’m going to bed. The herbs are bothering my sinuses.”

  “I meant to open it at Daniel’s office,” Linnie revealed. “Honest, I did.”

  “You were at his office?”

  “This morning.”

  “Did he know you were coming?”

  “I ran into him when I tried to look in on Philip at Unity Design.” Several hours later, she’d reached Philip by phone. He was thrilled she’d accepted the job quote, promising to begin work on the new landscaping in the morning. “I caught Daniel on the way to his office. He offered coffee, so I went inside.”

  “But still you chickened out.” Her voice softening, Jada added, “Honestly, girl. Why drag our favorite attorney into this, especially if you have no intention of reading the letter? Now Daniel will worry. Isn’t it enough having your closest friends and the Sirens at wit’s end?”

  “As if Daniel needs incentive to worry about Linnie,” Cat added. “His favorite pastime.”

  Jada shook her head. “Nope. Not even close. Daniel’s favorite pastime? Pining away for her. A weaker man would admit defeat and find someone else. Of course, I can’t imagine Daniel looking at anyone else.”

  The turn of the conversation filled Linnie with discomfort. She sank onto the side of the bed.<
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  Cat said, “He’s only had eyes for Linnie since she was a teenager. Not that she would’ve noticed him back then. Too tame. Interesting how the good boys turn into the great men.”

  “Stop it, both of you.” Linnie flopped onto her back. “I didn’t ask Daniel for advice to lead him on. He’s an attorney, remember? I wanted his feedback in case Freddie had written about . . . forget it.”

  Cat thumped her on the thigh. “Gutless, shortsighted, and stupid. We’re not concerned about you leading Daniel on. We’re concerned you’ll never lead that big, beautiful man to your bed. What are you waiting for? Get your groove on, babe. Jada and I will happily clear out of the south wing. Take as long as you need to have your way with him.”

  The risqué suggestion stirred the yearning Linnie was adept at suppressing. Warmth pooled in her belly alongside the uncomfortable reservations so familiar she could recite them in her sleep. Managing the inn demanded every waking hour. They’d only recently erased the red from the books. It was a long way from breakeven to profitability. As for relationships, they took time to nurture and grow.

  For the foreseeable future, time was in short supply.

  A bigger concern? Her long-buried guilt. Cat’s assessment was accurate—she hadn’t taken notice of Daniel’s attentions until her irresponsible brother opened a trapdoor beneath her world. The easygoing life she’d led disappeared overnight, and Daniel became her rock. Taking their relationship to its logical conclusion wasn’t smart until time became available for a real commitment. He deserved nothing less.

  And if he didn’t wait around? She despised the risk. If he found someone else, she’d do her best to feel happy for him.

  Approaching, Jada smiled. “We’re not coming down on you.”

  “Speak for yourself. Cat is coming down on me. Little Miss Sassy.”

  Cat thumped her again. “Got that right. You and Daniel should be married by now, with a bunch of kids racing around the Wayfair. Ditch all the reasons why you don’t have time for romance, and remember your eggs. Want them to shrivel like raisins? Wait much longer to let him know you’re interested and they will.”

  “Hey! I’ve only got two years on you. Worry about your own eggs.”

  “You think I don’t?”

  “I think you spend too much time worrying about my reproductive chances when you ought to find a man for yourself.”

  “As if I’m not looking.” Cat yanked up her pajama top. “Stay frisky, girls,” she said, addressing her navel. “When the right man comes along, I promise to grab on and not let go.”

  Jada sent a warning look. To Linnie, she said, “You’ll never muster up the courage to open Freddie’s letter alone. Read it now. If you faint, I’ll catch you.”

  “You’d better.”

  Resigned to the decision, Linnie fetched the letter. Her pulse bounced like a rubber ball as she tore open the envelope.

  Hello Sugarpop,

  In June I’m in Ohio on business. Short stay. Shall we meet for lunch? I promise not to order dessert if you’ll spare me the complaints about the latest diet failure. I’m mystified as to why you bother. Would baby seals appeal without the extra padding?

  I hope this letter finds you less hostile toward your legendary brother.

  Freddie

  She grimaced at the opener—Sugarpop. To this day, her mother continued to use the humiliating nickname. Freddie knew how much she despised it.

  Business. So he wasn’t in town for a social visit. A no-brainer, since he didn’t have a friend east of the Mississippi.

  Everyone who’d suffered the misfortune of knowing him well wanted him jailed or strung up. The Sweet Lake Sirens wanted him dead. Thanks to record-breaking YouTube views, Freddie had launched Bad Seed Productions after stealthily filming the Sirens during a midnight soiree involving too many of Silvia’s mojitos. In the video, he’d wisely blurred their faces—an obvious choice, since the Sirens never would’ve signed consent forms. If they’d caught him lurking in the bushes, they would’ve beaten him senseless.

  If he came back now, he was cruisin’ for a bruisin’. They’d never forgiven him for sending glimpses of their breasts into cyberspace.

  Reading from over her shoulder, Cat said, “You don’t look like a baby seal. Your brother’s a meanie.”

  “There’s a news flash.” Absently Linnie stared at the ceiling, thinking. “He’s coming for business. What business?”

  Knitting her fingers in her lap, Jada said, “Show this to Daniel immediately. If there’s anything to worry about, he should be in the loop. I mean, if Freddie thinks he can stake a claim . . .”

  Worry extinguished her voice, forcing Linnie to supply, “He’s not crazy enough to interfere. After seven years? My parents would stop him.”

  “You’re positive?”

  “I guess.”

  Was she? Linnie’s heart skipped a beat.

  Jada regarded her with misgiving. “Wayfairs and their sons,” she muttered. “You ought to put your foot down, tell your parents enough is enough. Make them do the right thing.”

  Cat looked from one to the other. “Mind cluing me in? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Of course she didn’t. Nor would Jada have a clue if not for Linnie’s incredibly difficult twenty-sixth year. In a moment of weakness, she’d spilled the details about the inheritance her parents had drawn up. At least she’d dropped the embarrassing facts on Jada, who’d guard a secret from invading Huns. No one else in town knew the truth, not even Daniel. Discussing the inheritance was humiliating, and Linnie spent as little time thinking about it as possible.

  The pregnant silence brought Cat to full attention. “Well? I’m waiting. If this is like the blood oaths we took as kids, go on. Prick my finger. Just disinfect the needle first.”

  Jada stuck her hand deep into her curls. “We can’t tell you. No offense.”

  “Offense taken. Why can’t you tell me?”

  “Because we’re not your only best friends. You’ll blab.”

  “If I shouldn’t tell Mami, just say so.”

  “Cat, you’d discuss the details of your sex life with your mother. Icky.” Jada reconsidered. “Not that you have a sex life.”

  “As if we’re not all virgin queens.” Cat wrinkled her nose. “Well, sort of. We’re die-hard abstainers by default.”

  Linnie blew out a breath of frustration. “Shut up about sex already,” she said, pulling her friend into a sitting position before she belted out a Latino ballad about finding love. Cat’s search for the perfect hunk of testosterone was her life’s pursuit. “If we explain, you can’t blab. You’ll swear not to mention this to your mother. It would take all of ten seconds for her to share the news with the Sirens. Swear it.”

  Her brown eyes dancing, Cat made an X over her heart.

  Linnie’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her lips went as dry as the Sahara.

  On the exhale, she blurted, “I don’t own the Wayfair.” She hesitated, gauging Cat’s reaction. None so far, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “I mean, I don’t own it entirely. After my parents got settled into retirement, well . . .”

  “Geez, Linnie—what?”

  Continuing proved difficult. Burying the hurt, she made herself say, “My parents transferred ownership of the Wayfair. After my dad’s stroke, they decided they shouldn’t delay. I guess they were mulling over the transfer for a long time. So they left the inn to both me and Freddie. Get it? The thieving rat bastard who’s my brother is a fifty percent owner of the inn. Even though he stole from the accounts, my parents still gave him half of the inheritance.”

  “Whaa-at?”

  “The transfer went through a year after they moved to Florida. Freddie was long gone by then.”

  “Why didn’t they cut him out of the will? He nearly bankrupted the inn!”

  Linnie sank into silence, and Jada muttered, “Wayfairs and their sons. I’ll never understand the stupid tradition.”

  Cat�
��s golden skin took on decidedly grey tones. “What if he’s coming back to push you out?” she asked Linnie.

  “My brother has no interest in taking over. He hates the inn, always did. ‘Swabbing down floors and dining with the unwashed masses’ he called it.”

  “I don’t care what he called it. You don’t have a handle on his intentions. The Wayfair wasn’t much of a prize when you were fighting off the IRS, but now? You’re turning the place around. If I were a thieving, philandering, no-good narcissist, this is exactly when I’d make my grand entrance.”

  The observation placed a chill on the suite. In shared gloom, the women contemplated the havoc Freddie was capable of inflicting on their cherished inn.

  Jada was the first to awaken from a near-catatonic fear of the consequences. Chin tipped at a haughty angle, she swept from the room. She returned with Linnie’s purse.

  “No more hiding in a hole.” She handed the purse over. “Drive to Daniel’s house and have him read the letter. If Freddie’s about to stake a claim or plans another run through your bank accounts, you need legal muscle on your side.”

  “And boxing gloves,” Cat added. “Big ones.”

  The lurid possibilities made Linnie desperate for consolation.

  Viennese Dobos torte.

  She’d tiptoe downstairs, grab the dessert Jada had concocted this afternoon, and lock herself in her suite. There was also strawberry swirl cheesecake resting nicely in the fridge. After a sugar OD, she’d burn the letter. If her brother turned up, she’d fake amnesia, pretend she’d never seen him before in her life.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Jada hauled her to her feet. “You’re not crawling into your burrow with any of my desserts. Snap out of it! Tell Daniel. He’ll draw a road map for survival.”

  Linnie tamped down her cravings and one perfectly acceptable daydream. “What about my nasty habit of leading him on, as you guys put it?”

  “We can’t solve that. Ignore Daniel for months, and nothing changes. He’ll still love you.”

  “Get your facts straight. He doesn’t love me. He has a crush.” More than she deserved, actually.