Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1)

by Christine Nolfi

  “Here we go.” She motioned sit. Puddles dropped to his haunches on the grass. The onlookers quieted down.

  She drew out the singsong command:

  Linnneee . . .

  Puddles lifted his snout and howled at the stars.

  . . . loves . . . Daniel . . .

  Leaping up, the dog pranced across the grass with his large tail wagging.

  . . . and Puddles too!

  Rolling onto his back, Puddles released a joyous wave of barking. Linnie crouched, made the signal. He leapt up and flew into her arms.

  Daniel said, “And I thought he was my best friend.”

  She let the dog push her down on the grass. “Not anymore,” she replied from beneath the mountain of fur. Waking up each morning in Daniel’s arms was everything she’d expected. Canine adoration? A bonus she hadn’t anticipated.

  Fancy, salivating at a burger sizzling on the grill, heard the commotion. She raced over to join the lovefest. Her arm was still in a sling, and she danced carefully around Puddles as the pooch slathered Linnie with kisses. Little-girl laughter resounded across the yard.

  From the picnic table, Frances called for everyone to take seats.

  Daniel lifted his nose to the savory scents. “You coming, or planning to play with the beast all night?” he asked Linnie.

  Cat added, “Jada sent over a batch of her brownies for dessert.”

  “Go ahead,” Linnie told them. “I’ll be right there.”

  They didn’t require further urging. When they’d gone, she crawled out from beneath Puddles. Relishing the summer night, she curled her toes into the grass. Above the flowerbeds, the dancing flicker of fireflies gave the approaching night a magical quality. Contentment flowed through her. Growing up in a mansion that rented rooms by the night, she was unfamiliar with the simple pleasures of a home where privacy was plentiful and the living spaces were shared by only two people. If she walked around in her birthday suit, she drew wolf whistles, not complaints; if she dozed on the couch, she’d awake to find Daniel smoothing his hand across her hair.

  In all the years of friendship, she’d rarely visited his backyard. A half-acre deep and nearly as wide, the tree-dotted vista was now one of her favorite haunts. With Philip’s help, she’d begun clearing the flowerbeds of weeds and salvaging some of the perennials.

  He’d also surprised her by offering to help with the repair work on Freddie’s tree house. Although Philip pronounced her crazy for proceeding with the plan, he insisted on handling all the heavy lifting, his off-key whistling carrying through the forest as he taught her the basics of carpentry. Yesterday they’d spent the better part of the afternoon patching up the roof and replacing several of the rotting floorboards. Daniel wanted to tag along to watch their progress, but negotiating the forest on crutches was out of the question.

  Tomorrow, assuming she cleared the work from her desk by five o’clock, she planned to repaint the structure. Until Freddie came to a decision, keeping busy proved a balm for her worried heart.

  Would the gamble pay off? Unease pooled in her belly. Freddie hadn’t left town, but he hadn’t given in either. If he hired a new manager, what then? She wasn’t ready to begin the difficult task of plotting out an alternative career, not until he came to a decision.

  Frances materialized at her side. “Aren’t you hungry?” She closed the sun parasol used to protect her still-flawless complexion. “They’re starting dinner without you.”

  “Guess I’m not very hungry.”

  “Still no word?”

  “Not yet.”

  Frances squinted into the sun, dipping toward the horizon. “Whatever happens, I hope you and Freddie don’t remain on bad terms.”

  “We won’t. If I lose, I’ll lick my wounds for a month or two, no more. I won’t shut him out of my life a second time.” Linnie toed the grass. She’d begun to build a new life with Daniel—one that wouldn’t feel complete until she mended old wounds. “Doubt he’ll accept an olive branch right away.”

  “He may, in time.”

  She hoped Frances was correct. She hadn’t expected Freddie to waltz back into her life. Now that he had, she couldn’t bear the prospect of losing him again. He’d returned to Ohio to fulfill a private obligation to Bryce Reed, but Linnie viewed the event as an undeserved gift: a do over, a chance to create a lasting relationship with her brother. She didn’t want to fail.

  “Putting things right with Freddie is my best-case scenario.” Recalling the elderly Siren’s advice, she dredged up a smile. “Seeing that we’re siblings and he carries my history.”

  “He does. And you his.”

  “With luck, we’ll keep doing so. We’ve already lost seven years. I don’t want to lose the rest.”

  The remark clearly pleased Frances. “You’re a brave girl.”

  “Thanks.”

  Frances studied the night, creeping toward them. Changing track, she said, “This afternoon I ran into Daisy at the grocery store. We had quite a chat. She mentioned none of the girls in housekeeping have cleaned Freddie’s room in days. He’s barred them entry.”

  This wasn’t exactly news. “I told housekeeping not to bother. I could send them in when he sneaks out at night, but what’s the point? Freddie won’t stay cooped up forever. He’s got a film shoot later this summer. At some point, he must return to California.”

  “Daisy also seemed unaware you’ve given notice. You may leave your post in one short week, and your employees haven’t a clue.”

  Disapproval colored the statement. “Don’t make me feel guilty, okay?” she told Frances. “I’ve already been over this with Daniel. I’ll inform the staff if Freddie pushes me out.”

  “Honestly, dear—shouldn’t you apprise the staff immediately?” Frances made no attempt to hide her censure.

  “And worry them for no reason? I won’t. They’re hardworking employees. If I don’t win this battle? They’ll have a hard enough transition, getting used to a new boss and all the changes sure to come. It’s doubtful Freddie will move forward with the inn’s renovations—he’ll oversee his inheritance from California, and the Wayfair will take a backseat to his film company. The inn will decline, and some of my employees will lose their jobs in a year, maybe two. I’m not making them anxious a moment sooner than necessary.”

  “In a situation so dire, the good people working for you should have all the facts.”

  Was Frances correct? Indecision swamped Linnie. She only meant to do right by her employees, to protect them from upsetting facts until the outcome became clear. With nearly a week gone and Freddie still at the inn, she may have acted in error.

  Gleaning the uncertainty in her eyes, Frances said, “No one in Sweet Lake ever held you responsible for the inn’s troubles. You aren’t your parents, following a tradition that should’ve died out long before you were born. You certainly aren’t your brother, a reckless man carting around the lonely heart of a child—a child, I might add, who was pushed and prodded to become something he is not. Linnie, the whole town loves you, your employees most of all. You should tell them.”

  Linnie’s mouth trembled as the words unhitched her composure. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. The gamble and the waiting, and now the affection Frances offered—the roller coaster of events threatened to careen her off the tracks.

  Nearing, Frances brushed the tears away. “This is no time to fall apart,” she murmured. “Have faith, child.”

  “Conjure some of your good vibes, will you? I need them for strength.”

  “You don’t need anything you don’t already possess. You have character, which will see you through.”

  The timing of the pronouncement seemed uncanny as the back door to Daniel’s house banged shut. Jada strode across the patio with her brows lowered. Intuition splashed Linnie with cold fear. She’d left Jada in charge of the inn, a responsibility she wouldn’t shrug off without good reason.

  Evidently Frances sensed the same omen. She placed a steadying hand to
Linnie’s back. A welcome kindness as Jada paused at the picnic table to whisper in Daniel’s ear. The others fell silent.

  Together Daniel and Jada started across the grass.

  Linnie’s shoulders curved forward. “He made the wrong choice,” she whispered, her heart emptying out.

  Frances patted her gently. “I’m such a fool. I truly believed your brother would make the right choice.”

  “So did I.”

  Confirming the terrible news, Jada told them, “Freddie instructed Mr. Uchida to call everyone on staff. We’re all to report to the Sunshine Room tomorrow morning at seven to meet the new manager.”

  Daniel, unsteady on his crutches, muttered under his breath.

  Absently Linnie wondered what he’d paid to convince someone to take over the inn, sight unseen. “Who is it?” she heard herself say. Oddly, she felt nothing.

  Jada sighed. “His name is Dutch Stevens. Freddie said the guy managed a Hilton in Columbus.”

  “He’s leaving the Hilton without adequate notice?”

  “Not exactly. Freddie pulled him out of retirement.”

  Excusing herself, Frances left them discussing the inn’s new manager. Philip was still at the picnic table, urging his daughter to finish her plate. Marco sat beside him, forlornly sipping a glass of wine. The Sirens who’d attended, clustered by the patio, brought their gloomy conversation to a close as Frances joined them.

  Silvia’s eyes flashed daggers. “We should’ve run him out of town the minute he arrived,” she snapped. “Now look what he’s done.”

  Penelope’s eyes watered. “Poor Linnie! How can he take the inn from her? There must be something we can do.”

  “There is,” Frances assured her. She turned to Silvia. “Tell Cat we have a mission for her, but she mustn’t breathe a word to Linnie. Have her run up to the inn to get the phone number of every employee. Tell her to meet us at my house.”

  Silvia gave her a sour look. “We’re calling the employees? To do what, wish them bon voyage on an early retirement? With Freddie at the helm, the inn will run aground in a matter of months.”

  “Hardly. This isn’t over.” Contrary to Silvia’s assessment, there was time enough for the Sirens to work their magic. To the others, Frances said, “Round up the rest of our comrades. We’re getting to work, ladies.”

  Tilda frowned. “Doing what, exactly?”

  “Lobbying the staff to stand with their leader.” Frances ushered them toward the door. “I’m astonished you need to ask.”

  Chapter 25

  For a man in the winner’s circle, her brother looked decidedly unhappy.

  After spending days sulking in his suite and only slipping out at night, his skin wore a dull pallor. He’d dressed in a nice enough suit, but the coat sported wrinkles. Linnie spied a stain on the canary-yellow tie. With all the hiding out, he’d clearly forgotten a trip to the dry cleaner’s.

  In the doorway to her office, he wavered. A hint of apology filled his eyes.

  “You’re here?” He stepped inside. “I assumed you’d skip the meeting.”

  Although it was nearing 7:00 a.m., none of the employees were assembled in the Sunshine Room. Linnie was certain—she’d checked.

  “I work here, at least until next week.” She looked past his shoulder, to the empty hallway. “Where’s my replacement?”

  Even though she was heartbroken, she wished the mysterious Dutch Stevens no ill will. In fact, she planned to show him around personally. The sadness at losing out wouldn’t abate anytime soon. Still, as the inn’s manager, she’d accept her replacement with grace.

  Fiddling with his tie, Freddie noticed the stain. “Stevens took the wrong exit off the highway.” He buttoned his blazer, hiding the stain. “He called from a pay phone. I wasn’t aware pay phones still exist. Apparently they do.”

  “His phone’s on the blink?”

  “He doesn’t have a cell phone. He promised to get one soon.”

  She recalled Jada mentioning her brother pulling Stevens out of retirement. “Gosh, Freddie. How will you introduce the new manager to the staff if he’s out roaming the highway? How old is he anyway?”

  “Eighty-one.”

  She arched a brow. “You’re joking.”

  He grimaced. “I wish I were. As it turns out, locating proper help on short notice isn’t easy.”

  “You’re a goofball, big brother.”

  “Says you.”

  “Call off the meeting.” Despite the gravity of the situation, she chuckled. “Better yet, call off this nonsense. You don’t want the inn. I’ve offered you a fair deal.”

  For a tantalizing moment, Freddie weighed the suggestion. The contrition on his face tugged loose a memory of him at age nine or ten, his untended homework scattered on the floor of his bedroom and their father stalking a raving path around his browbeaten son.

  “You’re digging in your heels because of Dad?” she guessed.

  His shoulders began lifting toward his ears in a mannerism she hadn’t been aware they shared.

  “You’re afraid to tell him you’re never taking over,” she said, amazed it had taken her so long to arrive at the reason for Freddie’s obstinacy. “That’s it, right? Mom you can handle. But Dad? For Pete’s sake, Freddie. You’ve been running from him your whole life.”

  The pronouncement, harsh though it was, lured her brother across the room. He sank into the chair before her desk.

  “I’m not scared.” His attention drifted to the photographs on the wall, the line of Wayfair men who’d steered the inn. “Don’t you see? This isn’t about fear. I’m a grown man. I stopped letting Dad intimidate me ages ago.”

  “What, then?”

  His gaze found hers, then slid to the floor. “I can’t stand the thought of disappointing him. Not anymore.”

  An odd statement, but then she remembered another bedroom—one she’d recently visited. The movie posters on the walls, a shrine for an eccentric filmmaker.

  Freddie had visited too.

  Unable to resist, she asked, “How did it go with Bryce? You never did share the details.”

  “Better than expected. We talked for an hour. I promised him a job if he returns to Ohio State and completes his degree. He only has three semesters to go.”

  “You encouraged him to finish school? Nice move. Keep it up, and people will suspect you’re becoming responsible.” He shrugged off the compliment, his expression in flux, and she added, “I’ve never been anyone’s hero. Not in the way Bryce looks at you.”

  “Being viewed as perfect isn’t easy. A strangely transformative experience that makes you wonder if . . .”

  His voice trailed off, and she supplied, “If you try hard enough, you’ll deserve the adoration? You don’t have to, you know—try so hard.” Her heart shifted. “Most of the time, Dad is a royal pain. But he loves you. He loves us both.”

  “We won’t see his more affectionate side if we derail his grand plan. Mom will be equally furious.”

  Their reaction no longer concerned her. “Let me talk to them,” Linnie said, the awareness blooming that she was stronger than Freddie, had always been stronger. “Sure, they’ll pitch a fit. They’ll get over it.”

  He was mulling this over when her ears caught the murmur of voices outside her office. Cat dashed past, disappearing from sight. A louder chorus of voices followed.

  “Hello?” Linnie called. “What’s going on out there?”

  Mr. Uchida walked in, the natty carnation on his lapel sparkling with dew. Without acknowledging Freddie, he strode to her desk. With a bow, he laid a typed letter before her nose. His signature was affixed at the bottom.

  She’d only begun to read the contents when Ellis walked in, the kitchen staff trailing like goslings behind a mother goose. More letters fluttered to the desk. Daisy, the rest of housekeeping, the staff in the Sunshine Room, and finally Jada and Cat. Within minutes, Linnie’s desk brimmed with snowy-white sheets.

  Resignation letters.

&nbs
p; A dizzy joy sent her attention across the stack. If she was booted out, they’d go with her. Every last employee.

  Flying high, she motioned Freddie near.

  “Want to give me the go-ahead to call Mom and Dad?” She handed over the stack. “I’m betting you do.”

  “Your brother,” Daniel said, “is slippery like a snake. Didn’t he agree to thirty percent?”

  “First thing this morning.” Linnie helped Daniel to his feet. “In my office.”

  “He’s vying for a higher percentage.”

  “I’ll give him the evil eye, make him back down.”

  Alone in the kitchen, they’d hashed out the details of what to say to her parents. At the inn, Jada was baking a batch of cakes. Several girls on the waitstaff were hanging party streamers in the ballroom. Linnie was looking forward to the impromptu celebration with her employees.

  She glanced at the clock. “It’s time.”

  “Go get ’em, tiger.” Daniel brushed his nose across hers. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you? You had the courage to roll the dice, and got exactly what you wanted.”

  She breathed him in for strength. “I love you.” The conversation with her parents would be difficult, and she was grateful to have him by her side.

  Daniel kissed her, grinned. “I know you do.”

  “I don’t want you to forget.”

  “Not likely. You tell me every time I bring you to . . .” His expression devilish, he feigned confusion. “What did Frances call it?”

  “When she’d had one martini too many? ‘Organism.’ And yeah, I like telling you then too.” Leaning in, she brushed a kiss across his jaw. “I figure encouragement will keep you bringing your A game to bed.”

  “You bet.”

  They walked into the living room. At the bar Freddie was pulling down the bottle of Smirnoff. He poured generously.

  Linnie made another note, then set the pad and pen on the coffee table. “Is that a good idea?” She motioned to the glass.

  Her brother gulped some down. “I’m nervous. Don’t badger me.”

  “I will badger you if you keep trying to renegotiate.” She helped Daniel to the couch. “We agreed on thirty percent.”