On the wide sweep of lawn, Daniel’s younger brother came at Freddie with fists raised. No one gave much thought to Kettering height and strength, or the way Daniel and Philip towered over any crowd. They were solidly built, unassuming men—friendly and low-key unless provoked.
Now Philip’s easygoing nature melted beneath the fury in his eyes. His crew crowded behind him, the planting project momentarily forgotten. They were ready to fight.
Crossing the veranda, Linnie raced down the steps. Predictably, Freddie was too foolish to run for cover.
“Philip, stop!” She leapt before him. He didn’t possess a cool head like Daniel and was prepared to land a punch. “He’s not worth it.”
Freddie chuckled. “Sugarpop, I’m worth ten times more than you. Hasn’t anyone pointed out that filmmaking is profitable?”
Philip glanced at her, then lowered his fists. “If you’re rich, pay her back what you owe her,” he growled. “Then clear out.”
“Clear out? The Wayfair is my second home. I’ve missed the grande dame.”
Philip looked to Linnie. “What’s he talking about?”
Freddie supplied, “I’m co-owner of the inn.”
“Bullshit.”
“All true. Go on. Ask her.”
“He’s telling the truth.” Gently, she steered Philip back another step. He’d curled his fingers, an indication his temper wasn’t yet under control. “We own the Wayfair fifty-fifty. Sadly.”
The information didn’t immediately register with Philip. When it did, he took her by the shoulders and set her behind his back. His desire to protect her, coming on the heels of Daniel’s betrayal, clouded her vision with tears. On the verge of crying, she sucked in air.
A glance over his shoulder, and the signs of her anguish proved Philip’s undoing. “You own half of Linnie’s inn?” he asked Freddie. “Congratulations.”
The blow he landed sent his opponent flying. Freddie careened to the grass with a thud.
Incredibly, he rose with a snarl. He was also a tall man, but he didn’t have the muscle of the Kettering brothers. Daniel was slightly larger, but only a fool would tangle with Philip. Especially now, as he strode near with the ferocity of a lion.
“Try it.” Freddie lurched forward. “Hit me again, and I’ll sue.” Blood oozed from the gash in his chin. Angrily, he brushed it away. “Want to lose your company? I’ll bankrupt you with lawsuits.”
“Like you nearly bankrupted your kid sister? You’re a bastard. What are you doing here?”
“Paying a visit.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.” Philip hesitated, turned to Linnie. He surveyed the tears catching on her lashes. “You want him off the premises, right?”
With effort, she swallowed. “Right.”
“I’m leaving.” Freddie adjusted his tie, a maroon silk with streaks of canary yellow running through the cloth. Regarding her, he added, “Put your gorilla on a leash. I’m busy for the rest of the day, but I’ll drop by tomorrow.” He looked at his watch. “I don’t want to be late for my meeting with Daniel.”
Philip laughed with disbelief. “You’re seeing my brother? Why? Need a shiner to go with the chin?”
“I’ve hired him.”
“Like hell.”
“I have.” Jingling his car keys, Freddie watched the color seep from his adversary’s face. Satisfied, he regarded Linnie. “Explain to the gorilla, Sugarpop. I really must go.”
Wordlessly, she clasped Philip’s cold fingers to lead him toward the inn.
The princess waved her sparkly wand.
Setting down his briefcase, Daniel offered a weary smile. Why his five-year-old niece was playing on the floor beside his secretary’s desk proved too complex a question for his addled mind. On a normal day, her appearance wouldn’t disturb him.
Today was anything but normal.
Last night he’d received little in the way of shut-eye. At dawn, exhaustion overtook him and he’d slept through the alarm. He’d still be down for the count if the heavy dog breaths across his face hadn’t rousted him from an arousing dream about the kiss he’d shared with Linnie. He awoke in a miserable state of longing.
Cracking open his lids, he found Puddles reclined on the opposite pillow, the beast’s close-set eyes regarding him like those of a long-suffering spouse.
His trip to Ohio Republic to open the bank account took longer than expected. Daniel was left with the disagreeable sensation of standing behind the eight ball at the start of the workday.
Apparently the conclusion wasn’t his alone.
Behind rectangular eyeglasses of cobalt blue, his secretary regarded him closely. On the fast approach to her sixties, there wasn’t much Kay Harnett missed. Of medium height with a linebacker’s build, she ran the law office with smooth efficiency. Already she’d filled the place with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The silver-haired grandmother of three had also pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk. Inside were toys and art supplies, Fancy’s private stash.
His niece hopped up from where she’d scattered coloring books and fat crayons by Kay’s feet. “Uncle Daniel!” Wand still waving, she scampered forward. “I told Daddy I don’t want to go to summer camp today.”
“Seems like you’ve given up on summer camp.” A real problem, since his younger brother didn’t have a babysitter on standby 24/7.
“I don’t like boys.”
“The boys at camp?”
She leaned against his knees, pinioning him with a long-lashed gaze. “They put worms in their pockets.” The puffy sleeves of her princess costume lifted in tandem with her revulsion. “I saw ’em. After they were squished. Andy McFee said he’d put them on my hamburger bun.”
He scooped up her sparrow’s body. “Andy isn’t much of a gentleman. Did you inform him you prefer catsup?”
“You’re silly.” She pressed her nose to his. “Can I stay at the low office? Mrs. Harnett says it’s okay.”
“Law office, buttercup.” Out of habit, he pressed a palm to her silky brow. “How’s your tummy today?”
“Hungry.”
With bemusement he shook his head. No doubt Philip put out nothing but toast for breakfast. In fairness, Linnie had invited him to start work on the new foundation plantings.
Which left the issue of famished royalty up for grabs. There wasn’t time to head back to the house to let Fancy root through his kitchen for a meal suitable for a princess.
Coming to the rescue, Kay retrieved a packet of instant oatmeal from yet another drawer. “Fancy, we’ll make this to hold you for now. Perhaps your uncle will let me take you to the inn for an early lunch.”
“Can we see my daddy when we go?”
“Just for a moment. I’m sure he’s up to his armpits in dirt.” To Daniel, Kay said, “After Fancy and I dine at the Wayfair, I’ll call around, find someone to babysit.”
“Good deal. I have an interesting meeting this afternoon.” He set his niece down. She raced back to the coloring books. “A one o’clock appointment with a new client.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Freddie Wayfair. I need to draft a contract before he arrives.”
His secretary absorbed the news with thinning lips. “The demon seed is in town?”
“Unfortunately.”
“He’s been gone for years. I was under the impression we were rid of him permanently.”
“Someone forgot to erase Sweet Lake from the map.” Daniel thought of something else. “I may also be out of town for several days.”
“Business for the Wayfairs’ tarnished golden boy?” With misgiving Kay read the answer in her employer’s gaze. “Don’t worry about Puddles. I’ll call my husband to prepare him for the invasion. Does the beast still slip pot roasts off counters? There are limits to my hospitality.”
He chuckled. “Face it, Kay. You love Puddles as much as I do.”
“Adorable as his owner, and perhaps a bit wiser.” Driving the point home, she asked, “When your new client
arrives, should I offer tea, coffee, or arsenic?”
“Surprise me.”
“Here’s a better idea. Why don’t I take my time with Fancy at lunch? You deal with Freddie on your own.”
“Probably for the best.” She’d struggle to maintain a civil tone.
She regarded Fancy, belly down at her feet, coloring with single-minded intensity. Satisfied she wasn’t listening, Kay said, “Now everything makes sense. I was curious why you look like a visitor to the seventh circle of hell.” Lowering her voice further, she added, “Did you have the sense to ask him to park behind the building? The fewer people aware of his arrival the better. Can you imagine if the Sirens find out? Having one’s breasts flashing through cyberspace is not a happy circumstance.”
“You mean a film of one’s breasts.”
“As if it makes a difference to women of a certain age.”
Searching for the exit to the conversation, he said, “I have Freddie’s number. Will you do the honors?”
“If I must. How long is he staying in Sweet Lake?”
“Not long. At least I hope. Do you pray? I could use extra chits in heaven.”
“You’re on your own, son.” Kay hesitated. “What about Linnie?”
“She knows Freddie’s here.”
“She’s aware he has an appointment with you?”
Daniel winced. “Oh yeah.” How to gain her forgiveness was a distinct problem. Groveling wasn’t his style, and last night’s moment in his kitchen had changed the calculus of their relationship. Were a dozen red roses in order? Two dozen?
Kay assessed the dismay furrowing his brow. “The eighth circle of hell,” she murmured. “Be careful, Daniel.”
Too late, he mused. Given the deal he’d struck with Freddie, he was in hell for the foreseeable future.
“Hold my calls.” He strode toward his office. “I need to get going on the contract.”
Throughout the morning, he worked with grim concentration. Linnie remained in his mind like background noise, a subtle hum of yearning beneath the more pragmatic demands of writing an airtight contract. The sweetness of her lips, the feel of her feminine body pressed willingly to his—he’d almost lost control. Fueled by her rash invitation, he’d considered taking her right there in the kitchen. The need, bottled up for too long, ran hot in his veins.
When she flung herself into his arms, why didn’t he stop her then? Simple, he reflected, completing the contract and setting it aside. Even if he’d guessed her intentions, he wouldn’t have refused. He couldn’t have refused. For more years than he cared to count, he’d been waiting to hold her in his arms.
Several minutes before noon, Kay left with Fancy. At one on the dot, Daniel went to check the small lobby at the front of the office.
With satisfaction he noted his client, dressed in a suit of yellow pinstripe, was on time. He did a second take. A bruise purpled Freddie’s chin.
“Nice.” Daniel tapped his own chin. “Catching up with old friends?”
“Like a high school reunion with more rage.”
Freddie didn’t elaborate, which suited Daniel fine. “This way.”
In the office, he waved his client into the chair before the desk. Seating himself, he slid the contract across.
“You’ll make a good faith deposit into this account,” he began. “Ten thousand dollars, which I’ll return to Linnie. You then have until July thirty-first to deposit the full amount, plus interest. You have six weeks to get all the funds in order.”
Freddie took the contract, read quickly. “I won’t need six weeks.”
“Fine,” Daniel replied coolly, masking his astonishment. The total amount was triple what he’d squirreled away for retirement. “Sign here.”
The contract sealed, Freddie pressed on without preamble. “As I mentioned last night, Bryce Reed worked under the table for the talent on my last film. Now home with his parents in Medina.” He handed over the address. “I offered to help after the accident. He was embarrassed and refused.”
“How old is Bryce?”
“Twenty-one going on fourteen.”
Like the average boy on the verge of manhood, Daniel mused. “How does a youth from Ohio land in California?”
“Business schools.”
“What?”
A nearly imperceptible tremor ran up Freddie’s wrist. He lowered his hand to his lap.
The conversation came at a cost, which was unexpected—and intriguing.
“Business schools,” he repeated with mild impatience. “I’m contacted frequently. Entrepreneur builds a film studio through Internet marketing, finds success overseas—I can’t speak at every university, though I do visit schools in Ohio when time permits. Bryce was a student at Ohio State. After my talk, he bombarded my e-mail with pleas for a job. He showed up at one of our shooting locations with enough passion to lasso the moon.”
“Like Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life?” He’d forgotten Freddie’s prodigious ability for citing old films. From junior high onward, he’d been incapable of concentrating on studies. But he’d always possessed the uncanny ability to spout lines from scripts dating back to the 1930s.
“Yes, but in place of Mary, our impetuous youth loved cinema. Passionately and without reservation.”
“Like you.” The observation left a chilly silence, and Daniel asked, “To clarify, he wasn’t formally on your payroll?”
“Only handling errands for the talent under the table. I should’ve put a stop to it.”
“Tell me about the accident.”
The question hung in the air for an uncomfortable moment. Daniel got the impression of another bill coming due as Freddie toyed with the gold cufflinks on the blindingly white shirt. Striking how he’d chosen a life behind the camera. Linnie took after the pleasantly featured and darker-haired Wayfairs. Freddie had improved on his mother’s blonde glamour, transmuting the resemblance into a striking presence with movie-star allure.
“You have to understand filmmaking.” He smoothed down his tie as he gathered his thoughts. “My production company attracts all types. We don’t have the budget of a big studio, and the majority of the crew is young. A lucky few invest several years at a place like Bad Seed before moving on.”
“Makes sense.”
“The average camera operator, assistant, or gaffer never receives the call from a major studio. They stay on. Others find less promising forms of amusement.”
“Gaffer?” The term was unfamiliar.
“In charge of lighting.”
“The accident . . . the result of a less promising form of amusement?”
“Bryce fell in with some of the older members of my crew, techs and camera operators. Most had given up on landing in Hollywood. I should’ve fired the lot of them. Our production schedule is hectic, but even so, I sensed the rumblings. The discontent.” He paused, holding Daniel in a meaningful stare. “You’re made of stronger stuff. Pining away for my sister, never making a move—do you ever want to drown at the bottom of a bottle?”
The question took aim at Daniel’s heart. The prick of intense pain, and he heard himself say, “Bryce’s accident was the result of drinking?” Under no circumstances would he discuss Linnie or his feelings for her. He wouldn’t give her brother the satisfaction.
“Drinking and drugs, after a particularly long day of filming. A group of the men were stoned and stupid. Bryce tagged along. Someone got the idea to set off fireworks.”
“While they were stoned? That’s crazy.”
“The boy got too close. Second-degree burns on his face.” Freddie lowered his attention to his lap. “More serious damage to his eyes. Might be permanent.”
“He’s now blind?” The possibility sickened Daniel.
“The Devlin Eye Institute in Cleveland may be able to save his eyesight. With a cornea graft or a transplant—I don’t understand the specifics. But I will pay. You’ll assure Bryce’s parents I’ll cover all expenses.”
Daniel reached for a
pad, jotted a note. “Isn’t he covered by their insurance? They may only require help with out-of-pocket costs. If they have an eighty-twenty plan, there’s a cap on expenses.”
“They removed Bryce from coverage when he ran off to California.” Freddie shrugged. “I doubt it matters. Blue-collar family, barely getting by—their insurance wouldn’t have been enough. Would’ve spent years digging out from under co-pays.”
“And you’re offering to cover the entire cost? Even though you have no legal obligation?”
Which begged the question: What would compel Freddie to open his checkbook? He thought only of himself. Helping the less fortunate wasn’t in his DNA. A shallow man, he was a cheap rhinestone compared to Linnie’s diamond-bright depths.
Or so Daniel thought until his client spoke again.
“I’ll cover everything,” Freddie insisted, his voice thick with emotion. “The cost is immaterial.”
Mystified, Daniel tossed his pen down. It was none of his affair. Yet he couldn’t keep the curiosity at bay.
“May I ask why you’re willing to help at all?”
Chapter 7
Freddie’s threat to return the following day never materialized. Nor was he spotted in town the day afterward. Gossip traveled quickly in a town the size of Sweet Lake, and everyone Linnie asked assured her that Freddie was gone—at least for the time being.
As Cat filled the table in the meeting room with to-do lists for her parents’ anniversary bash, Linnie wondered about his whereabouts. According to Philip, Daniel was out of town for an unspecified period. He’d left without explanation and wasn’t answering his brother’s calls. Was he on a trip with Freddie?
The meeting room, situated in a narrow hallway near the inn’s noisy kitchen, was a favorite haunt. Floor-to-ceiling cherry wood paneling carried the luster of an expensive jewelry box. The carpet sported a whimsical design of teal peacocks cavorting amid peach-colored flowers. Long ago, female guests had enjoyed teatime in the cozy room while their husbands took part in turkey shoots in the forest or filled the Wayfair’s veranda with cigar smoke in the late afternoon.
Not until the 1980s, when Sarah and Treat Wayfair accidentally broke the family tradition of bearing a single male heir, did Sarah claim the room for her own. The wood paneling muffled the sounds of guests coming and going and lent a respite from Treat’s manic energy. In relative peace, Linnie’s mother spent blissful hours on the pale-pink couch or at the cherry wood table knitting scarves, throw blankets, and the occasional nubby sweater.
Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1) Page 7