Cabin by the Lake

by Desiree Douglas

  Vivian had given him both her and Lydia’s numbers when he decided to stay in the cabin. Judging from Lydia’s expression the last time he saw her face, he didn’t think he would stand much of a chance to apologize in person, not after the way he’d barged in on her, and had decided to send a quick text.

  He had innocently jogged over to pick up the level after Vivian called him, and apparently she hadn’t warned Lydia that he was on his way. Not thinking he’d be walking in on anything private, he had just opened the door and come right in. When he caught sight of Lydia, her back to him, barefoot with only a short robe for cover, it was obvious she was not expecting company. He was about to back out the way he’d come when she turned around and caught him gawking at her.

  Yes, he was gawking. That was one fine-looking woman. He had not been that physically attracted to a woman in, well, maybe ever. It seemed as if, from the first moment he saw her, she was all he could think about.

  After sending his apology, he checked his phone for the tenth time. No response. He picked up another board, measured it, and sawed, letting the end fall onto a growing pile of scraps.

  His phone was set to vibrate in his pocket and when he felt it go off he snatched it out and punched in his pass code. Even though he’d been hoping, he was still surprised when she answered his text. He was relieved to see that she had adopted a light tone and seemed to be brushing off the incident as insignificant.

  He had made up his mind about a few things since he’d been here. The walking that he did and the solitude had been good for him. Landing in a place like Vivian’s where it was peaceful and slow-paced was helping him put things in perspective in a way he hadn’t planned. He decided to at least call the office and have them send the preliminary paperwork to look over.

  He hadn’t made concrete decisions yet, but he found himself figuratively standing with one foot in the boat and one foot on the pier. He needed to decide something soon. Too many people were affected for him to keep them hanging on much longer.

  Meanwhile, he wondered at his impulsive request that she join him at the salvage yard on Saturday. He’d half expected her to turn him down, but was pleased when she accepted. He could tell she loved the cabin and had been enthralled by the idea of bringing it back to life. Maybe they could work on this project together. At least he could get her started so that she’d be able to finish up on her own if he left. He’d help her get the big projects done, at least.

  He would have to steer clear of romantically-charged settings, such as campfires on the shore and walks in the moonlight. He hadn’t intended to kiss her last night, and he wouldn’t trust himself in that position again. He wouldn’t get caught up in the moment and lose control again. He had to be extra cautious, especially after seeing her in that tiny little robe. That was a picture he couldn’t get out of his mind!

  Dang, it wasn’t like it was sexy lingerie or anything. It covered up way more than a bathing suit would. But the sight of her plainly sent his libido into overdrive, making him feel like an inexperienced kid. Sometimes more is less, or something like that, he thought.

  He smiled. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible to feel like a kid again. He had more energy since he’d been here than he’d had in a long time. In the mornings he was up with the sun and couldn’t wait to get to work with his hands wrapped around Todd’s well-worn tools. It was a great feeling to get up looking forward to the day. And looking forward to seeing Lydia, even though he couldn’t let her know how he felt.

  And how did he feel? He wasn’t sure about what the future held, but right now he was here and life was very intriguing.

  Chapter 12

  The break room at Lincoln, Colbert and Colbert was new and modern, even though the building itself was one of the old historical sites on Main Street. There was an efficiency kitchen with tables and chairs, and there always seemed to be good smells coming from that area with the employees heating up leftovers or bringing in desserts to share. Comfortable couches lined two walls with an ever-rotating stack of paperbacks piled on a coffee table.

  The room had been crowded and loud a few minutes earlier, but now Lydia and Betsy had the space to themselves. They sat at one of the tables sharing an order of Chinese take-out, chatting amiably. Lydia had come to enjoy the older woman’s company.

  “In the early years,” Betsy said, “it was just Mr. Lincoln and me. I started out with him when we had nothing but an office the size of a broom closet. We’ve seen lawyers come and go as they left to join bigger firms in bigger cities. But Mr. Lincoln and I have been satisfied to stay around here and live our lives. It’s grown into a very reputable law firm that we take great pride in. When Mr. Lincoln took on Deuce as a junior partner, and then Ace recently, I think he made up his mind to at least consider retiring soon.”

  Lydia wondered just how old Mr. Lincoln and Betsy were. She thought retirement was probably a timely idea, and Betsy made it clear that whenever Mr. Lincoln decided to call it quits, it would be a package deal and she would follow suit. She would miss them if they retired. Mr. Lincoln had been very kind to her since she’d been here, and she would find it hard to repay him for the chance he was giving her.

  She was amused by the fact that Betsy always referred to her husband as Mr. Lincoln, as did everyone else. The man had a presence, and although he was growing frail from the years, he seemed to command respect. She felt blessed to be there.

  Betsy had been encouraging her to go back to school and get her degree as a legal assistant. She was not averse to furthering her education, but she just didn’t know if she had any real interest in law—especially since she’d been on the other side of the law, and hadn’t gotten decent representation when she herself had gone to trial.

  No, she didn’t feel passionate about it in any way, and she wondered if there was anything she would ever feel that passionate about. Sure, it paid a lot more money than her current job, as Betsy pointed out, but she would need some convincing before she embarked on that path.

  The older woman rose from her seat with some effort and dumped her plate in the trash. “Mr. Lincoln will be looking for me,” she said as she headed for the door.

  As she went out the door, Ace walked in. Lydia immediately got up and began clearing the leftover containers from the table.

  “You’re looking good today,” Ace said as he took in her appearance. She was wearing a navy skirt with a blue pinstripe button-down shirt and a white sweater. Very professional, she thought, but the way he was looking her over, she wondered if there was any appropriate clothing to wear around Ace Colbert. Maybe it would take a nun’s habit to do the trick.

  “Nice legs,” he said.

  That’s it! She’d had enough. “Ace, I don’t think comments like that are appropriate in the workplace.”

  “Then let’s go somewhere else,” he said, grinning.

  She felt her cheeks begin to glow as her frustration mounted. “Stop,” she said firmly. “Haven’t you ever heard of sexual harassment?”

  Ace looked shocked. “Sexual harassment?” He made a show of looking over both shoulders as if someone were listening. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. I mean, I’d have to be a dead man not to notice how beautiful you are.” He shrugged disarmingly. “I’m just a healthy all-American man giving a compliment to a gorgeous woman.”

  “I appreciate that, but—”

  “Wait, let’s back up,” he said, giving a boyish laugh. “I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, the way you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

  She blushed even more at his comment. Had she been that obvious? “No, I—”

  He held out his hand. “Let’s start over. Welcome to Lincoln, Colbert and Colbert.”

  She looked at his outstretched hand and rolled her eyes.

  “Come on,” he cajoled, and she was struck by his charming smile, full force.

  She uttered a small, embarrassed laugh and shook his hand.

  “See?” he said. “That wasn’t so bad, was
it? I don’t bite.”

  She smiled, relieved that the tension seemed to be dissipating between them. She had to work with this man, and she wanted things to go well. She finished wiping down the table and tossed the paper towel in the trash. She glanced at the wall clock above the microwave and said, “Oh, look at the time. I’ve got to get back to my desk. See you later.”

  Ace suddenly put an arm out across the door to block her exit. “No need to rush,” he said. “After all, I am the boss.”

  She froze in place, not liking the implications. “Seriously, Ace, I’m going to be late and Mr. Lincoln won’t like that.” She hoped her reference would remind him that Mr. Lincoln had actually been the one to hire her.

  He snorted a derisive laugh. “Don’t worry about that old coot. He’s probably in the middle of his afternoon nap right about now. And anyway, Deuce and I run this show. It won’t be long before Lincoln is out of here and we can stop pretending that he’s anything more than a figurehead.”

  She gasped at his disrespect.

  “Come on, Lydia,” he coaxed. “Give me a chance. Go out with me Friday night.” Then he added with a sly smile, “It would be in your best interest.”

  Maybe her mother would find that to be an attractive offer, but she felt disgusted. “I don’t think so,” she said firmly, and reached up to dislodge his hand from the door jamb.

  Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and put his face close to hers. “For a felon,” he sneered in a low growl, “you seem to have a pretty high opinion of yourself.”

  Her face instantly drained of color. No one was supposed to know about her past. Did Mr. Lincoln betray her trust? She felt sick.

  “I have a thing to attend Friday night; a wedding, black tie. I need a date.” His eyes were cold. “I would very much like for you to accompany me.” The implied threat hung in the air between them.

  Numbness crept through her limbs and she wondered if she would collapse before she could get back to her desk. Her lips felt stiff and didn’t seem to want to form the words, but she finally said, “I see. Of course.” She wrenched her wrist from his grasp, only because he let her. His fingers left indentations in her skin.

  His demeanor instantly changed, like the sun coming out from behind a storm cloud. He opened the door for her and gave a slight bow and gentlemanly sweep of his hand. “After you,” he said cheerfully.

  When she was gone, he pulled a flask from his inside jacket pocket and took a long swig. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and smiled.

  At the other end of the building, Mr. Lincoln leaned forward, his old chair squeaking in protest, and switched off the security screen that showed the break room.

  Betsy sat across from him, her legal pad and pen at the ready. She made a tsking sound with her tongue and shook her head. It never ceased to amaze her, the things people would say and do when they thought no one was looking.

  She had come straight from the break room to his office, around his desk, and switched on the surveillance video camera. He looked at her questioningly, but she just motioned for him to watch. She’d been keeping an eye on Ace Colbert for a while now, and for good reason. They couldn’t afford a lawsuit that would sully the firm’s reputation, and Ace was looking like a lawsuit just waiting to happen.

  She’d smelled alcohol on his breath when she passed him in the break room doorway, and the panicked look she saw on Lydia’s face sent up warning flares in her mind.

  Just a few years ago things began to go missing around the office; the petty cash, money from women’s purses, even spare change that people kept in their desk drawers for the vending machines. Mr. Lincoln installed security cameras and caught the person least likely, in Betsy’s opinion, to be the culprit. Sweet Miss Avery, chubby and bubbly—she doled out equal amounts of hugs and advice. Even when she was confronted with the evidence of her thievery, she had an excuse for everything and denied any wrongdoing. She’d only been looking for an aspirin in that purse, or she’d only borrowed money from the Swear Jar.

  Miss Avery left the company in a highly outraged huff. They recently learned she was working as the church secretary for First Presbyterian over in Centreville. Those deacons better watch the collection plates with Sticky-fingers Avery around, Betsy thought as she watched Mr. Lincoln absorb what he had seen.

  “Set up a meeting with Big Jim Colbert,” he finally said. “I’m afraid Ace is becoming a liability.”

  “Yes, sir.” She noted the instruction on her pad with her spidery shorthand.

  He picked up his desk phone and dialed Ace’s office. “I need you to pick up the discovery from Handle, Winston.” He listened. Then, “No, leave now, you’ll need to work into the night on this one. Thanks.” He hung up before Ace could argue.

  He looked at Betsy. “Have Lydia come to my office.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He held up a hand. “Before you do that, get Deuce in here. And send in Carla from Accounting.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  “Yes, give yourself a raise.” That was an old joke between them, originating from the early years when neither of them had two nickels to rub together. But this time it didn’t elicit her usual smile. Big Jim Colbert was a very powerful man, and this was a matter that would need careful handling. Ace’s father put great store by that boy, and he thought that Ace was set up for life in a respectable law firm, all his misbehavior behind him.

  Big Jim bought Ace out of every scrape he got into, and there were plenty. But sooner or later, there was going to be something that he would not be able to buy his son’s way out of, and that something was looming on the horizon. Now he was about to get news that he wouldn’t be willing to hear, and Betsy was aware of the gravity of the situation.

  “Yes, sir,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.

  Sitting behind the reception desk, Lydia’s hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly press the correct button to direct calls to the right people. That strange feeling of numbness wouldn’t leave her, and it seemed to have affected her brain. She was on autopilot right now, smiling when it was appropriate and answering questions with a voice that sounded odd to her own ears. She was in a daze, feeling like an animal caught in a trap.

  It’s not fair, her brain kept repeating. The feeling of euphoria that went with making a fresh start was gone. Ace Colbert scared her. Should she go to Mr. Lincoln and tell him what was happening? Really, it would hardly be believable. Mr. Lincoln was a very nice man, but she wondered if Ace was right, that he was old and incapable of handling business anymore. Should she confide in Betsy? No, once again, she could barely believe this was happening herself. No one would believe her. It would be his word against hers, and she knew how that would end up.

  She could just quit. But Vivian was counting on her financially now, and she couldn’t let her down. There were other jobs out there, but you had to check that little box on application forms that said you were a felon, and no one would knowingly hire an ex-con. That left waitressing in places where they didn’t care where you’d been or what you had done. The thought made her furious inside. She would never get another opportunity like this to make a decent living. She couldn’t blow it now.

  She glanced up as Ace came through the lobby headed toward the door. He looked irritated and didn’t pause until he got in his car, revved the engine and peeled rubber up the street.

  She felt helpless; she had no option but to go out with Ace. And where would it end? When he got tired of her? How far would he take this extortion? If she refused to go out with him and he told everyone about her past, her reputation would be ruined. But she’d have her life back, she reasoned; Ace would have nothing to hold over her head. Any way she looked at it, she felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  She needed time to think. She had to get out of there.

  She noticed Betsy heading in her direction. “Betsy,” she said, grabbing her purse from under the desk. “I’m sorry, but I’m not f
eeling well. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave.”

  “But I was just coming to tell you that Mr. Lincoln needs to see you.”

  This couldn’t be good. Her flight instinct had kicked in and she just wanted to run. But now Betsy had her by the elbow and was leading her down the hallway to Mr. Lincoln’s inner sanctum.

  She’d never been in his office before. It was paneled and lined with bookcases filled with sets of law books, and smelled of old leather. It reminded her of an office scene from the old Perry Mason shows.

  “Please, sit down, Lydia,” Mr. Lincoln said, indicating a leather chair in front of his desk. “Betsy, would you mind sitting in on this meeting?”

  “Certainly,” she said, settling in with her usual pad and pen. Lydia perched on the edge of her chair, clutching her purse in front of her.

  He cleared his throat and folded his hands in front of him on the desk. “It has come to our attention that there may have been some inappropriate behavior on the part of Ace Colbert involving you,” he began.

  Lydia was shocked. How did he know? Was she going to be fired? Color flooded her cheeks. This was so not fair! How should she handle this?

  “Mr. Lincoln,” she said, the words tumbling out. “I can assure you that I have done nothing to encourage Ace’s attention. If you’re not satisfied with my work, that’s one thing, but—”

  “No, we have been very pleased with your work, Lydia. You’re doing a good job,” he assured her.

  She felt as if she might cry at any moment. She tried again. “I understand that Ace is a partner here and I’m just a receptionist, but I… I…” and then the tears came. “I thought my past mistakes were to be kept in confidence, Mr. Lincoln. I don’t understand how you could have been so kind as to give me this job and a chance to start over, and then rip it out of my grasp by telling people about me.”

  He took a clean folded handkerchief from his jacket pocket and passed it over the desk, for which she was very grateful. What a bad idea this had all been. It seemed that she did nothing but cry lately—was she twelve and just starting puberty with raging hormones?—and she hated crying! She hated that she had ever come here!