The Comfort of Secrets (A Sweet Lake Novel Book 2)

by Christine Nolfi

  They went down together in a mass of sprawling legs and inflatable arms.

  “Get this ridiculous balloon man off me!”

  Tossing Bill aside, Cat checked her for injury, relieved to find none. “You’re okay?” She grabbed the dangerous bra, flung it under the dresser.

  Another shriek sent her sprinting from the room.

  Jada was already halfway down the corridor. Frances was close behind, jogging at an impressive speed for a woman past seventy, the shoulder pads of her dress gyrating toward her ears.

  In the center of Linnie’s previous digs, Penelope spun in a frantic circle. With a broom in her grip, she made clumsy swipes at the air. Even on a clear day, the heavyset Siren didn’t have the best vision. Behind the thick eyeglasses, her myopic gaze rolled toward the ceiling.

  “There’s a bat!” She took another swing. “Cat, Jada—help me!”

  Jada wrested the broom away.

  Penelope went into a swoon, and Cat took hold of the hysterical Siren. “Penelope, there’s no bat. The workers patched up the eaves in September.”

  “There’s something dive-bombing my head.”

  “There’s nothing flying around.”

  “There is! Check my hair.”

  Cat made a cursory examination of the clumps of white hair interspersed with Penelope’s wavy auburn locks. “Why don’t you touch up the white like my mother does? You have nice hair.”

  “I can’t. I’m allergic to dye.”

  “Forget dye. There are a million natural products on the market.”

  “I don’t care about natural products.” Her double chin wobbling, Penelope felt around her scalp. “I do care about creepy-crawlies getting down my blouse. I hate bugs.”

  “What about ladybugs?” Frances put in. She was perspiring in her delicate way, her lace handkerchief fluttering across her brow. “Bumblebees, the stately praying mantis? You can’t love nature and hate insects.”

  “A bat isn’t an insect, Frances. You wouldn’t want one tangled in your hair.”

  “I suppose not.”

  Silvia appeared. “What’s going on?” She flopped against the doorjamb. “The way Penelope’s screaming I’d expected to witness a murder.”

  She lobbed the remark at Cat, her first direct acknowledgment since agreeing to help straighten the south wing. Yesterday’s argument on the beach still hung between them. For reasons Cat preferred not to contemplate, the D’Angelos’ impending visit only made the situation more strained.

  Oblivious to the tension, Penelope tugged at her curls. “Someone check if a spider is crawling on my scalp. I don’t want something icky on me!”

  Silvia grunted. “There isn’t a spider in your hair. Actually, they’re good luck.”

  “I know they’re good luck. I just don’t want one on my head.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.” Something caught Silvia’s attention, and she walked past the bed. By the two upholstered chairs near the bay window, she planted her hands on her hips. “Of all the . . . Penelope, you were beating away a moth. You really should have your eyes checked.”

  Despite Silvia’s abrasive personality, her reverence for the natural world was bred to her core. Lowering onto her knees, she tried to catch the moth and set it free. Yellow-tinged wings danced across the carpet, bounding out of reach. Moving in to help, Frances opened the window.

  Cool air rushed in, rippling the hem of her dress. “We need a net,” she decided.

  Jada started for the door. “I’ll get a bag.”

  “No, wait. Silvia, he’s right there. Catch him!”

  On hands and knees, Silvia growled in the vicinity of Frances’s calves, “Why don’t you come down here and help?”

  “In a dress? I’ll snag.”

  “When Cat asked for help spiffing up the south wing, why did you dress up? We’re housecleaning, not visiting royalty.”

  “Oh, be still.”

  The moth bobbled under a chair, forcing Silvia to duck lower. “I hope the poor thing’s wings aren’t broken.” Rising back to her knees, she threw Cat a dark glance. “That would be a bad sign.”

  The moth danced up the wall, blissfully immune to bad omens and Silvia’s foul mood. Striding across the room, Cat shooed it out the window.

  “Enough with the omens.” She guided her mother to her feet. “I appreciate your help getting the south wing ready, but I’m done arguing. If the D’Angelos agree to dinner at your house, I’ll give you a call.”

  Frances, evidently out of the loop, fiddled with her diamond studs. “Aren’t we meeting them tonight? I thought we were having drinks in the Sunshine Room.”

  Silvia wrestled free of Cat’s hold. “No, Frances. We’re not socializing with the D’Angelos.”

  “I’m disappointed.”

  “Sing the blues when you get home. Cat only needs us for grunt work. Why she didn’t ask the girls in housekeeping is a mystery for the ages.”

  “Mami, I told you. There’s only a skeleton crew on Sunday,” Cat said with forced cheer. The rift she’d created hurt more than anticipated. How to mend their relationship wasn’t clear.

  Frances asked, “When are we meeting the D’Angelos?”

  “This week, my house,” Silvia informed her. “Assuming they’re open to my hospitality.”

  “Is there any doubt?”

  “Ask my daughter.”

  “Mrs. D’Angelo is very bashful,” Cat explained, surprised by Frances’s confusion. Rarely did her mother keep important details from her closest friend. Obviously she hadn’t mentioned the argument on the beach about Ryan. Silvia was more upset than Cat had realized.

  “Mrs. D’Angelo is too bashful to dine at your parents’ house? Is that even a thing?”

  “I’ll convince her to accept.” The promise, directed at her mother, didn’t alter the cloud of discontent forming around her. Disappointed, Cat looked to Frances for rescue. “I’m sure she’ll come with Ryan. I hope you’ll be there.”

  “Whichever day you all get together, count on me. I’m looking forward to meeting Ryan, and I’m sure his mother is a delight.”

  The polite remark drew a muffled snort from Silvia. Turning away, she regarded Jada and Penelope hovering by the bed. She told them, “One of you needs to help Cat dig out her whirlwind of a bedroom. Find a snow shovel to pick up the clothes. If you can’t stuff anything else in her closet, dump the clothing out the window. With luck, none of the inn’s guests will notice the debris on the back lawn.”

  “Mami, you’re leaving?”

  “I’m going home to your father and a bag of Epsom salts. I need a hot bath.”

  “Thanks for helping.” Cat attempted to place a kiss on her cheek.

  Thwarting the gesture, Silvia walked to the door. “You’re welcome.” She marched out.

  In her wake, an awkward silence filled the room. Frances promptly broke it by chuckling.

  Cat looked at her questioningly, and she said, “Your mother will grind her teeth all the way to the parking lot. She won’t remember I drove until she starts looking for her car.”

  Penelope, her curls in disarray from so much plucking, lifted her rheumy gaze. “You also drove me. Don’t leave me behind.” Apparently she still wasn’t convinced the south wing was bat-free.

  “I’d never leave you, dear. With your night blindness, you’re a threat on the road.”

  “It’s after six. I should get home to check my Airbnb account. I spoke to the nicest girl this morning. I hope she’s ready to book.”

  Cat recalled Frances’s low opinion of the Sirens renting guest bedrooms for next weekend’s concert. Silently she gave her points for holding her tongue. In lieu of lobbing criticism, Frances offered Penelope a benevolent smile.

  “Is your houseguest booking for both nights?”

  “Saturday night only, with her roommate. They’re students at Kent State.”

  “College students, how lovely.”

  Penelope beamed at her elegant leader. “I love the idea
of hosting college girls. Almost like having daughters under my roof.” Ozzie, her only child, was a mail carrier in Sweet Lake.

  “Inform your guests you won’t tolerate drinking or any other shenanigans.”

  “Oh, I did. Gemma agreed to the house rules immediately. She’s just waiting for her roommate to agree before putting down the deposit. I don’t expect any trouble.”

  “Let’s send positive energy to the other Sirens in hopes they fare as well. Norah has already turned down two requests from couples. Ruth may have been correct—the fool has confused Airbnb with a dating site.” Dropping the subject, Frances turned back to Cat. Patting her cheek, she said, “Don’t let your mother’s temper tantrum spoil your evening with the D’Angelos. She isn’t truly angry. She’s afraid of losing you.”

  “Will you please talk to her? She won’t listen to anyone else. Explain that Ryan would never ask me to leave Sweet Lake. Even if he did, I wouldn’t go.”

  “Never assume what you might do in the future. We all have the ability to surprise ourselves.” Softening the warning, she added, “Don’t worry about your mother. I’ll talk to her.” She left with Penelope.

  The excitement over Ryan’s visit fading, Cat returned to her suite.

  Jada followed her inside. “Are you all right?”

  Cat picked up Beefcake Bill from where he’d landed on the floor. “No, I’m not,” she admitted as she stuffed him inside the groaning closet. “I’ve spent my whole life dreaming about finding the right guy and falling madly, hopelessly in love. I feel like crying.”

  “Your wish has been granted. What’s the big deal?”

  The question seemed bizarre, coming from someone astute like Jada. “Gee, where should I start? Here’s one. Explain why my mother is threatening me with bad omens about moths with broken wings. Or why I don’t get a few blissful months with Ryan before dealing with his mother. I’m sure she’s the sweetest woman this side of the Mississippi, even if she’s practically a hermit, but I’m not ready for this. What’s the point of falling in love if there’s no romance?”

  “Stop being impatient. Some relationships have kinks.” Jada shrugged. “Work out the kinks.”

  “Like that’s easy.”

  “You can start by cultivating patience. Your mother is a hothead, but you’ve got your own faults. I mean, look at this place. You’re too self-indulgent to pick up after yourself. There are toddlers with better organizational skills.”

  Cat winced. She was disorganized—inconsiderate too, given the harsh remark about Julia. Because of all the details Ryan had shared, she knew a visit to a country inn was a difficult proposition for his timid mother. A leap of faith too—one made for her son’s happiness.

  Jada scooped up an armful of clothing, stuffed the garments into drawers.

  “Stop beating yourself up. Granted, you’re sloppy. Doesn’t make you the demon seed.”

  “I am self-indulgent and self-centered.” Privately she added self-loathing, which trailed her across the room. Reaching for the clean sheets, she began making the bed. “I swore I’d do nothing but practice gratitude. Here I am, complaining about the woman who may become my mother-in-law. I’m pond scum.”

  “You’re not. You want what we all expect when we fall in love. Time alone with your man.”

  “Won’t get any this week.”

  “We do have a ton of work for the concert. Make sure the events company you hired gets the tables set up on the beach first thing Saturday. Midnight Boyz don’t play until seven, but we’ll make a bundle serving dinner to the early birds.”

  Three hundred tickets had already sold online. Sales were still brisk, a genuine success in the making.

  Even so, Cat didn’t feel like breaking out the party hats. “I took care of it. The tables and the dance floor will be in place no later than ten.”

  “Linnie showed me the ideas you and Ryan came up with for next spring’s ad campaign. Looks great.”

  “We’re still fine-tuning the copy. Penny, the photographer Ryan brought in, will come back on Saturday. We might switch some of the art we’ve already selected.”

  “You’re doing a good job with the marketing, Cat.”

  One short month ago, the compliment would’ve satisfied. Now she felt differently. “Between all the work and entertaining Julia in our spare time, Ryan and I won’t get a minute alone.”

  “Not to fear, grasshopper. I’ll run interference.” On the opposite side of the bed, Jada pulled the sheet taut. “If Julia passes on dinner with your parents, I’ll come up with a plan to keep her occupied.”

  “Declining the dinner invitation will seem like a major snub. Think Julia will refuse?”

  “You need a contingency plan just in case.”

  “Yeah—one that’ll guarantee my mother won’t erupt like a volcano. Keep me posted when you conjure up a miracle.”

  “You might as well face facts. Chances are, Julia will feel totally out of her element in Sweet Lake. You can’t insist she have dinner with your parents.”

  Cat’s heart stalled. “I have no idea what I should do about my mother.”

  “There’s nothing you can do.” With calm efficiency, Jada pulled up the comforter and smoothed out the wrinkles. “Let her fume.”

  Becoming a neatnik for the rest of her life struck Cat as an easier task. “She’s never been this angry with me.” Unexpected tears caught on her lashes. “She blows up at my brother occasionally, and fights with Val all the time. Not with me. Never with me.”

  “You’re such a goof.” Nearing, Jada brushed the tears away. “Don’t you get it? Your mother keeps you latched to her hip because she nearly lost you when you were a baby. Why do you think she’s furious about the thought of you moving to Cincinnati? She has an irrational belief her constant vigilance keeps you healthy.”

  The observation seemed far fetched. “I am healthy. I stopped visiting the pediatrician constantly when we were in junior high. Why would she worry after all this time?”

  “Because she’s never fully put the fear to rest any more than Ryan’s mother has forgotten what his father did to her. Some hurts don’t heal. With luck, they cover over with enough scar tissue to make them bearable. But they don’t go away.”

  “You’re comparing apples and oranges.”

  “Cat, we’ve never faced anything that’s tested our limits. Nothing like nearly losing a child or escaping an abusive spouse. We don’t carry those scars. I’m grateful we’ve been so fortunate.” Playfully Jada pinched her cheek. “You see? I’m practicing gratitude. You should too.”

  Heeding the advice, Cat did her best to pull herself together. Ryan called from the road, saying they’d arrive later than anticipated.

  The delay proved convenient. Two members of the kitchen staff were out with head colds, and Linnie was still in her office. The sous chef was scrubbing down counters, her movements spiking the air with an antiseptic scent. At the center island, members of the waitstaff placed the final dessert orders for the Sunshine Room on trays.

  Grabbing an apron to protect the conservative pink blouse and grey slacks she’d selected for her first meeting with Julia D’Angelo, Cat got to work on the dirty pots left from the dinner rush.

  She’d nearly finished, her face wearing a light sheen of perspiration, when a soft thumping from the windowsill caught her notice.

  In the droplets thrown from the sink, a moth, its wings torn, twitched one last time, then grew still.

  Chapter 16

  Within seconds of making introductions, Cat concluded the description Ryan had given of his mother was wholly inadequate.

  Julia D’Angelo wasn’t merely scarred by an unfortunate past. She was more ghost than human, a tall, disturbingly thin woman wading through the parking lot’s shadows. Her head remained bowed until she reached the soft glow of lights surrounding the inn, and the steps. After she reached the veranda, she turned around without warning. Grinding to a halt at the railing, she made an appraisal of the black sea envel
oping the grounds.

  “I can’t see the lake.” Her words were as insubstantial as mist.

  Or hear the surf from this distance, Cat realized with a start. Yet Julia moved down the railing with confident steps, zeroing in on the location of Sweet Lake with accuracy. The moon wasn’t out; dense clouds crusted the sky. She stood looking toward the lake she couldn’t see as if she’d enjoyed its pleasures in the past.

  The uncanny performance also gained Ryan’s notice. He exchanged an intrigued glance with Cat.

  Smoothing away his surprise, he guided his mother toward the lobby. “Would you like to see your room?” Retracing his steps, he grabbed their luggage, a small carry-on and a larger case.

  “I would, thank you.”

  A soft murmur carried from the Sunshine Room as they made their way across the lobby. On the stairwell, Cat said, “I hope you don’t mind the south wing, Mrs. D’Angelo. It’s not quite as nice as the main portion of the inn, at least not yet. We’re refurbishing it later this year.”

  “Oh, I’ll manage.”

  At a faster clip, Julia went up the stairwell. Cat waited for Ryan, who was thumping the larger case up the stairwell. “Did you pack your entire closet?” she teased him.

  “Almost.”

  “You should learn to travel light.”

  “While I’m working? Sorry, no can do. Two suits, plus a week’s worth of casual clothes—I almost packed a second carry-on.”

  The light banter didn’t ease the tension whirling through Cat. Something was bothering him. Julia seemed equally nervous. Her gait rigid, she moved swiftly, like the bandleader of their small parade. At the end of the corridor, Cat was about to instruct her to turn left to find the narrow, older stairwell leading to the south wing. Once more, Julia surprised her.

  Gaining speed, she darted left. She disappeared up the stairwell.

  Cat pulled Ryan to a halt. “She’s been here before?” she whispered.

  “She never leaves the city without me . . . but she’s familiar with the inn.”

  “How? A day trip with women friends, a drive alone in the country?”

  “Great theory, except I’ve already told you—she doesn’t have women friends, or travel without me.”