Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1)

by Christine Nolfi

  “Revenge won the Green Duck in Sydney.”

  From the closet she removed a less pungent costume. The gown was surprisingly heavy. “What’s the Green Duck?”

  “An indie film award. Really big deal. Freddie’s won three.”

  Surveying the costume, she muffled a gasp. The creepy plastic bodice resembled lizard skin. Leave it to Freddie to add shoulder padding that looked like gouged flesh. The skirt was less repulsive. The drape of silver fabric featured long glass beads trailing to the hem. How did her brother dream up this stuff?

  Her heart shifting, she recalled her mother’s comments about the hidden creativity of the Wayfair men. It was plausible Freddie’s vision appealed to adolescents the world over. Was Bryce an example of the fervor reserved for the creations of a man who was, in many ways, more adolescent than adult?

  She returned the garment, selected another. “You like my brother’s films?” she asked, hoping to draw Bryce out. He remained trapped behind the bed in a self-imposed prison. How to perform a rescue operation wasn’t clear.

  “Like them? They’re fantastic.” He drummed his hands against the wall with a child’s enthusiasm. “No one beats Freddie at crazy plots and disturbing characters. First movie I saw, in fifth grade? Scared the shit out of me. Maze of Misfits. Freddie doesn’t do gore—he’s a purist, and there are never slasher scenes—but the Misfit hero summoned really creepy ghosts from other planets. The guy looked so much like my school principal, I was sure there were space phantoms hiding in the gymnasium. I was hooked. I’ve been collecting his stuff since I was a kid.”

  She laughed. “Bryce, you’re still a kid.”

  “I’m twenty-one,” he said with mulish pride.

  “You have your whole life ahead of you.”

  He grunted unintelligibly.

  Which was when she tired of conversing with a mystery host. “I’m opening the curtains,” she announced, “mostly because I’m beginning to feel like Christine in Phantom of the Opera. Want to dive into bed, pull the covers over your head? Better leap fast.”

  A garbled protest followed her steps to the window. She flung open the drapes, pouring sunshine into the room. There was no sense coddling Bryce. His desire to flee the uncomfortable proof of his injury was no different than Freddie’s sure-footed flights into the woods long ago, the desperate escapes to avoid the indomitable Treat Wayfair whenever he came down too hard on his son. Linnie suffered an ache of regret. She’d been too young to help Freddie when he’d needed her most.

  Bryce was another matter.

  Training her eyes on the desk, she gave her anxious host time to compose himself. She read one of the magazine articles tacked to the wall. Freddie, in Stockholm, receiving a gold medallion at the Indie Magnet awards. He looked rakish in faded jeans, a yellow tie, and a nubby blazer.

  Behind her back, feet shuffled. Then the squeak of the mattress giving as Bryce sat on the edge.

  “May I turn around?” she asked, steeling herself for what she might find.

  There was a pregnant delay, then, “Sure.”

  A smattering of burn marks covered his forehead. There were scars too, and a starburst of pinkish skin stretching across his left temple. Around large, oval eyes, maroon bruises lent the impression of a raccoon. Peach fuzz on a sweetly pointed chin. A wide mouth with full, sensual lips. He grimaced, drawing into relief high cheekbones.

  Bryce Reed was good-looking.

  “You aren’t half-bad,” she joked. “Get out more often. A nice girl might hunt you down.”

  Pleasure darted across his face. Quelling it, he lowered his attention to his lap. He was doing his best to conceal the glass eye.

  Approaching, she held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Linnie Wayfair, proud manager of the historic Wayfair Inn. I know exactly zip about the movie business, although I do have a crush on Benedict Cumberbatch. I never can decide if I love him more in Star Trek or The Imitation Game.”

  “Tough call.” Beneath the weight of his gloomy thoughts, Bryce rolled his shoulders. “Guess I’d choose Star Trek. I love anything sci-fi. Cumberbatch was also great as Alan Turing. Did you know Steve Jobs idolized Turing?”

  “I did not,” she said, aiming for peppy interest. “Pretty cool.”

  An overblown gambit, and her enthusiasm drooped his head lower. “I know you mean well,” he said with a cool resignation hinting at maturity. “I’m not ready for anyone to see it just yet.”

  “What if I want to see?”

  The instant the words left her lips, she saw Jada instead.

  Jada in third grade, pushing the students back with her baby-plump arms. Her wild hair bouncing as she stooped before the girl who’d tumbled from the swing set. The tough cherub’s voice explaining she fell down too—but she got back up. How she’d reached past Linnie’s hiccupping sobs to pull her to her feet.

  The best lessons come when our hearts are broken open. Bryce was broken too.

  There was time for him to heal.

  “We all have something,” Linnie said, sitting beside him. “Look at my thighs. A day doesn’t go by when I wouldn’t like to take a chain saw to them. I’m not even going to discuss my butt.”

  He shifted to glance at her jean-clad legs. “They’re okay.”

  “So is your eye.”

  He regarded her. His left eye tracked slowly behind his right.

  “Not bad.” She smiled.

  “It’s plastic.”

  “Not glass?”

  “Mom calls it glass, but she’s a dope. They’ve been using thermoplastics for about fifty years.” Bryce regarded her for as long as he dared. He looked away, saying, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Why didn’t Freddie visit?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “It’s no big deal. He begins filming a new movie this summer. I read about it on Avinash’s Mad Moviez. There’s a rumor he’ll shoot in Australia, but it’s conjecture. He keeps lots of stuff under wraps until he starts filming. Good PR, if you ask me. Keeps the fans guessing.”

  “I imagine it would.” She glanced at him swiftly. “I don’t have much of a relationship with my brother, a situation I’d like to remedy. If not for you, we probably would’ve gone another decade without running into each other. Longer, maybe. So, thanks.”

  “He came to Ohio for me? I figured he was here for speaking engagements.”

  “Nope. You’re the reason.”

  As was the shrine he’d built, a monument to the achievements of an eccentric filmmaker. Which, Linnie mused, might explain Freddie’s absence. A die-hard fan’s unconditional love glossed over the warts we all possess, the less-than-admirable behavior. Bryce viewed his idol as perfect. Did Freddie avoid contact to protect a young man’s fantasy? Linnie couldn’t blame him if he did.

  Through the window, the sun slid toward the horizon. Conscious of the long drive back to Sweet Lake, she drew the visit to a close. In the living room, she shared a few words with Janis before walking to her car.

  She’d driven to the stop sign at the end of the street when an unfamiliar Ford zoomed up from behind. The horn blared, nearly shocking her out of her skin.

  A rental, obviously, with Freddie at the wheel.

  Another blast from the horn, and he stuck his arm out the window. He pointed at a grassy field to her left.

  By the time she climbed out of the Honda, Freddie was in full lather. “What are you doing here? My sneaky, meddling sister. Snooping in other people’s business, going where you’re not invited—what’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing’s the matter with me!” The insults hurt, and she balled her fists. “Stop yelling at me.”

  “Who told you about Bryce?”

  “No one told me, Freddie.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “I was picking up stuff for Daniel and saw the file on his desk.” Better to take the fall alone than drag Kay into this.

  The answer didn’t satisfy, and her brot
her stalked closer. “You’re lying. Did your boyfriend break a confidence?”

  “Daniel, break a confidence? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I’ll have him disbarred. You had no right coming here.”

  “Then again, you have every right to come here—but you haven’t. What are you afraid of?”

  Ruddy color peaked on Freddie’s cheekbones. He appeared immobilized—by shame or the blunt nature of the question, it was impossible to tell. In that instant, she pitied him. Freddie had invested heavily in his bad boy reputation. Lend the opportunity to display goodness, and he was quickly out of his depth.

  Wanting to steer him, she said, “Bryce is a sweet kid. You’ve made a real difference in his life.”

  “How is he?”

  “Why don’t you go see for yourself?” She’d already deduced he wouldn’t have come at all if not for her visit. But he was here now, and Bryce deserved the courtesy. “Freddie, there’s nothing to fear.”

  “But fear itself,” he said, putting gravel in his voice to ape Winston Churchill. Immediately he sobered. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  A comment doused with petulance, and she laughed. “You’re a pain in the ass, big brother. Must you make everything difficult? If you’re peeved because I’ve looked behind the curtain and discovered you aren’t Lucifer, I swear to take your secret to the grave.”

  “Don’t get any ideas, Sugarpop. I haven’t signed up with the Random Acts of Kindness League. And let’s not pretend we’ll become friends because you got it into your head to drive to Medina after snooping around Daniel’s office. If this one arbitrary event leads you to believe you’ve glimpsed weakness, guess again.”

  An allusion to their battle over the inn, and she wondered if she was witnessing an actor deep inside his role. “We’re still enemies?” she asked, taking care to mask her disappointment.

  “We’re adversaries. You want what I have, and I’m not inclined to hand over my shares. Why should I?”

  She recalled Frances’s remarks at the induction ceremony. “I guess you shouldn’t,” she replied, trying her hand at spontaneity. “I’ve treated you like a dirtbag—mostly because you act like one, but you’ve probably had your reasons.”

  “Keep laying on the sugar. You know how I like it.” Freddie studied his nails. “Oh. Wait. You’re the one with a penchant for sweets.”

  She ignored the bait, needing to get this out before second thoughts intruded. “Here’s the bottom line,” she said, the emotion glossing her voice coming as a surprise. “I have no right to push you out of the family biz. It’s your family too.”

  “I’m astonished you noticed.”

  The droll retort emboldened her to say, “I don’t expect a puppy for Christmas, but I would like to get along better. You are my brother.” Her throat tightening, she added, “Despite all your maddening qualities, I care about you.”

  “Ah—more lies!”

  “Freddie, I mean it.”

  Clearly unconvinced, he said, “Did Saint Daniel suggest you try buttering me up? A stealthy maneuver, but I’m on to you. Tell your boyfriend he can’t sit on both sides of the negotiating table, not when he’s already agreed to represent me.” Freddie stopped abruptly to regard the field where they stood, the weeds up to his ankles and the crumpled soda cans strewn about. “Who lives in a place like this? There’s more excitement in the Tibetan wilds.”

  “Good people like the Reeds. If you hurry, you won’t interrupt their dinner.”

  “Oh, go home, would you?”

  Climbing into the car, she brought the engine to life. Freddie hadn’t budged from the weeds, his eyes vacant, his expensive sport coat flapping and his beautiful hair tufting in the summer wind like horns. The horns didn’t call to mind Lucifer.

  More than anything else, Freddie resembled a lost boy from Peter Pan, a perpetual adolescent for whom maturity would never arrive.

  Sticking her head out the window, she shouted, “Are you going to visit Bryce or not?”

  Chapter 24

  Inside the suite, the music droned at an acceptable volume. For the last twenty-four hours, Freddie had remained holed up with his staff.

  On a steadying breath, Linnie rapped twice.

  The ill-mannered Lexie opened the door. “Yeah?”

  “May I see my brother?”

  “He doesn’t want to see you.”

  “Please. It’s important.”

  His assistant chewed over the request. Finally, she said, “Hold on.”

  The door creaked partially shut. A good time to flee, Linnie mused, or dash to the kitchen for a sugar injection. There wasn’t much chance of a friendly reception. For strength, she pretended Siren vibes, a charming fiction, were surrounding her now. She imagined the energy forming ribbons that were purple, silver, and a clear hazel shade, which, come to think of it, described the eye color she shared with Frances. A mere inconvenience that she didn’t also possess a dose of the old dame’s majesty, the habit Frances had of peering down her nose as if surrounded by commoners she accepted with benevolent patience and a large dose of affection.

  After long minutes Freddie sauntered up. An unfamiliar brunette hung on his arm. At his side, his assistant glowered.

  “Lexie, I’ll take care of this.” She stalked off, and he gave the brunette a squeeze. “Sasha, do you mind? I prefer to cross swords with my sister in private.”

  Linnie waited for the woman to move off. “I’m not here to argue.” He regarded her suspiciously, and she hastened to add, “I’m sorry about Medina. I shouldn’t have gone without asking first.”

  “You’re admitting your behavior was deplorable?”

  Hear the Siren’s call and give kindness in secret.

  “Absolutely. Really bad move on my part. I hope you can forgive me.” She eyed him questioningly. “So. Did you see Bryce or not?”

  “I did.”

  “How did it go?”

  Faint satisfaction wove through his features. “Better than expected. His bedroom is a bit much.” Freddie gave an elaborate sigh, but she wasn’t fooled. “Bryce owns enough memorabilia to open a museum. He’s taking fandom to a whole new level.”

  “Oh, c’mon. You got a kick out of it. He’s crazy about your movies. Your number one fan.”

  The observation left him slightly mollified. “I suppose.” Adding a touch of kindness to his voice, he asked, “What do you want?”

  “To show you something. It’s a beautiful night. Let’s take a walk.”

  “You’re inviting me for a nighttime stroll?” He knit his hands together, presumably as he searched the offer for subterfuge. “Planning to have your stealthy friends change the locks while I’m off the premises? Don’t bother. I’m checking out soon.”

  The words nearly spilled out. I’ll miss you. Then she remembered the bar in the Sunshine Room was still leaking booze, and his late-night parties had drawn complaints from several guests. Although she wanted to patch up their relationship, he’d stayed long enough.

  Lightly she touched his arm, a peace offering. “You’ll get a kick out of this,” she promised.

  Intrigued, he followed her downstairs. She picked up the flashlights she’d deposited on the veranda and handed one over. She’d already stowed the neatly typed letter in the pocket of her loose summer sweater.

  A light rain had fallen earlier in the day. The skies were now clear, and the moisture had lured swarms of lightning bugs. Pinpoints of light bobbed over the damp grass like sparklers waving in an unseen hand. A good omen, and she felt the jangling nervousness cede to her lifting spirits. Taking the lead, she strode toward the lake and the forest beyond.

  Slowing his pace, Freddie curved his palm through a swarm of lightning bugs, taking care not to touch the fragile insects. “Where are we going?” In childhood, he’d found them fascinating.

  “To the forest.”

  “You don’t have an ax hidden behind a tree, do you? Knives buried in the dirt?”

  “I don’t d
o murder.”

  “You would if there was sugar for incentive,” he remarked testily. “If Jada promised a lifetime supply of her brownies, you’d take out anyone who caused her the least irritation.”

  “She hasn’t suggested I tie bricks to your ankles and throw you in the lake.” She sent him a backward glance, adding, “Not yet, anyway.”

  Although it was nearing eleven o’clock, several couples strolled the beach, kicking their feet in the surf and gazing at the moon. They were among the week’s new arrivals. Bypassing them, Linnie ducked onto a secondary path guests never used, one she’d forged with her brother during childhood. The sands merged with the much darker earth at the forest’s edge.

  Trailing behind, Freddie asked, “How’s Daniel? I presume you spent the day tending his every need.”

  “Doing great. Will you visit him before you leave?”

  “If Daniel doesn’t mind.”

  “I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

  “Linnie, have you found some high-grade weed? I don’t know what to make of your cordial tone.”

  “The cordiality is genuine.” The path ended in a patch of rocky ground. To get her bearings, she arced the flashlight through the trees. “This way.” She charged through heavy brush.

  Freddie caught up. “What’s this about?”

  At last she found the spot. In the small clearing, an oak tree thicker than three men stretched toward the open heavens. She sent the flashlight’s beam up the knotty wood. The intense ring of illumination came to rest on the third limb.

  “Look.”

  Starved of light, the ponderous limb had grown horizontally before forming a nearly perfect ninety-degree angle. A tree house was tucked into the nook. The small structure boasted walls of mismatched lumber and a makeshift roof fashioned with dowel rods.

  Freddie drifted back on his heels. “My tree house is standing? Remarkable.”

  “No one hikes this far into the woods. It’s remained unmolested.”

  “Should’ve come down in a storm.” A pile of new lumber caught his notice, and his face tensed. “Why do I have the impression repair work is about to commence?”