PRAISE FOR CHRISTINE NOLFI
The Season of Silver Linings
“An enchanting, impossible-to-put-down novel that explores the truth of family. This heartwarming story nourishes the soul and reminds us that love is what keeps hope alive.”
—Bette Lee Crosby, USA Today bestselling author
“Charming and sincere, Jada’s journey to reconcile the past left me with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. The idyllic setting only adds to the joy of reading this heartwarming tale of past mistakes and glorious futures.”
—Heather Burch, bestselling author of In the Light of the Garden
“In The Season of Silver Linings we see love on every page. Each novel in the Sweet Lake series offers a special experience for the reader, and the third book may be your favorite yet.”
—Grace Greene, USA Today bestselling author
Sweet Lake
“[This book] has such a charming small-town vibe and endearing characters that readers will find themselves falling in love with quirky Sweet Lake and hoping for a series.”
—Booklist
“In this uplifting and charming story, each room of the inn is filled with friendship, forgiveness, and love.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Craving a literary trifecta of romance, small-town drama, and soul searching? That’s exactly what you’ll find in Linnie Wayfair’s life as she tries to restore an inn in Sweet Lake, Ohio, to glory—all while navigating the affairs of the heart. This is the literary answer to Gilmore Girls withdrawals, and we don’t give that compliment lightly.”
—Marina Kendrick, YourTango.com
The Comfort of Secrets
“Welcome back to the Wayfair Inn, where discovering secrets and overcoming human frailty are the ingredients for finding love and happiness. Reading Nolfi’s The Comfort of Secrets feels like coming home.”
—Kay Bratt, bestselling author of Wish Me Home
“Poignant, honest, and filled with heart, The Comfort of Secrets has it all. With a natural talent for lyrical prose, Christine Nolfi sweeps you away.”
—Heather Burch, bestselling author of In the Light of the Garden
“This is a surprise-filled page turner, right to the end. Brilliant!”
—Patricia Sands, author of the Love in Provence series
Second Chance Grill
“Nolfi writes with a richness of heart that is incredibly endearing.”
—Renee Fountain, Book Fetish
“An emotionally moving contemporary novel about the power that relationships have to transform lives.”
—Susan Bethany, Midwest Book Review
The Tree of Everlasting Knowledge
“Poignant and powerful, The Tree of Everlasting Knowledge is as much a saga of learning how to survive, heal, and forgive as it is a chilling crime story, unforgettable to the very end.”
—Margaret Lane, Midwest Book Review
ALSO BY CHRISTINE NOLFI
The Sweet Lake Series
Sweet Lake (Book 1)
The Comfort of Secrets (Book 2)
The Liberty Series
Second Chance Grill (Book 1)
Treasure Me (Book 2)
The Impossible Wish (Book 3)
Four Wishes (Book 4)
The Tree of Everlasting Knowledge (Book 5)
The Dream You Make
Heavenscribe: Part One
Heavenscribe: Part Two
Heavenscribe: Part Three
The Shell Keeper (Kindle Worlds Novella)
The Shell Seeker (Kindle Worlds Novella)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2018 by Christine Nolfi
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Lake Union, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503903395
ISBN-10: 1503903397
Cover design by Rachel Adam Rogers
To my children and stepchildren,
Brian, Christian, Jameson,
Julie, Marlie, and Marguerite,
with all my love
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE SEASON OF SILVER LININGS BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter 1
Tilda Lyons rushed into the Wayfair’s kitchen. “I have wonderful news!”
An unlikely prospect. Jada Brooks muffled a groan. This morning there wasn’t time for interruptions by the Sweet Lake Sirens. The members of the eccentric women’s group were needed upstairs. All manner of chaos had seized a corner suite of the historic Wayfair Inn.
Jada placed a swirl of icing on the chocolate cake she’d baked for the dinner menu. “Tell me Linnie has made a decision on her wedding gown. It’s the only kind of ‘wonderful’ I’m looking for this morning.”
“Not yet,” Tilda said.
“Is she close?”
The pint-size Realtor put her excitement in lockdown. “Do you want the truth?”
“No, Tilda. Lie to me.”
“She told the Sirens that only a woman with a deathly allergy to carbs and aerobics could enjoy an experience this hellish.”
“No decision then.” Jada rolled her aching neck. The gesture did nothing to alleviate the tension brewing in her muscles. “Do me a favor, Tilda. Save your news for a happier day.”
“Don’t be such a party pooper. This can’t wait.” Recovering her excitement, Tilda shimmied her shoulders with the energy of an overly caffeinated elf. Her cinnamon-colored locks were still swinging as she added, “You’ll love this. We began comparing notes while we were upstairs helping with the gowns and—bingo!—we deciphered the meaning, at long last.”
“Is this about another dream?” Jada asked, thinking, Go away, please.
The Sweet Lake Sirens believed their dreams were prophetic. Jada didn’t know why they insisted on adding her into their REM sleep. Why didn’t they pick on Linnie Wayfair instead? Given her upcoming wedding, she’d become the craziest white girl in three counties.
An opinion not worth sharing as Tilda said, “Last night, four of the Sirens had nearly identical dreams about you.”
“Copycat dreams? That’s hard to believe.”
“Well, they did. We made a comparison and stumbled upon the meaning. I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to work it out.” Tilda paused a dramatic beat. “Are you ready?”
“No.”
“Don’t be frightened. We�
�re here to help you.”
“That’s what scares me.” Jada wasn’t sure why the Sirens were dreaming about her lately. Chances were, they’d now arrived at a silly solution for a problem she didn’t have.
Not that Jada didn’t have problems aplenty.
For nearly a decade, the historic Wayfair Inn had been on the edge of bankruptcy with little hope for survival. Those dark years were now a memory. The three women in charge—Jada included—were breathing life back into the golden sandstone mansion that stood on the highest hill in the area, with the town of Sweet Lake nestling at its feet. Once again, tourists from across the Midwest were arriving at the retreat in southern Ohio to enjoy the mineral-fed lake and the lush forest.
With the Wayfair’s newfound success, problems bred like alley cats in heat. Each day brought a whole litter of headaches. Usually they began raining down on Jada the moment she entered the lobby. Deliveries arrived late, or new waitstaff left entrées growing cold in the kitchen. New employees in Housekeeping forgot to replace bath towels in the guest suites, and the expanding kitchen staff was still learning the ropes. Most days, Jada felt like a drill sergeant whipping a group of dizzy recruits into shape.
“Why don’t we discuss this later?” she asked Tilda. “Thanks to the mayhem upstairs, I’m way behind schedule. Half of the desserts for the dinner menu aren’t finished, and I haven’t stepped foot in my office. I’ll need a snow shovel to dig through the paperwork on my desk.”
Penelope Riddle came into the kitchen. “Jada, hold on.” Behind thick eyeglasses, her watery eyes registered worry. “You need to hear us out.”
The gentle request pinged guilt through Jada. It was one thing to nix a conversation with a caffeinated elf. Penelope, however, possessed a chewy nougat center.
“Fine, Penelope,” she said, relenting. “Fire away.”
Permission had been granted, yet the elderly Siren went silent like the moon at midnight. Her attention flitted across the counter and the kitchen staff before dancing to the tall windows above the sink. The trees outside fluttered with spring’s first leaves.
The picturesque scene was lost on Penelope as she drew a tremulous breath.
Goose bumps sprouted on Jada’s arms. Whatever the Siren believed the dreams foretold, the prediction wasn’t good.
On her exhale, Penelope said, “You’re suffering beneath a psychic burden.”
“A psychic burden?”
That was the big reveal?
“One not of your making.”
“If I didn’t make the burden, who did?”
“Someone no longer in your life.”
Jada swiped at the curls escaping from beneath the bandanna on her head. This morning, there hadn’t been time to coil her curls or steam away the tension in her body with a long, leisurely hot shower. A short, utilitarian one was all she could manage. She was burdened, all right—from lack of sleep and the deprivation of anything resembling a social life. She was a black woman’s version of Atlas, carrying the world with flour-dusted cheeks―and seriously needing a visit to the salon.
“That’s your great insight?” she asked Penelope. “I am burdened, but mostly by the people in my life. Tell me something I don’t know.”
The kindhearted Siren missed the sarcasm. “All right,” she agreed, clasping her hands at her generous waist. “You won’t escape the burden until a stranger brings news from the past.”
“Why should I care about the past? Because, you know, it’s passed.”
“An event in the past created the burden,” Penelope said. “It has brought you regret.”
Jada sighed with exasperation. She didn’t need pointers on dealing with regret. A woman didn’t make it into her thirties without suffering the sting of missed opportunities or foolish choices. Live long enough and you discover that no one has a flawless track record. Assuming she bought into the dream interpretation—a proposition still up for grabs—Penelope wasn’t offering enough specifics to solve the mystery.
Jada zeroed in on the second part of the prediction. “The stranger who’ll bring news from the past . . . this isn’t a tall, dark, and handsome stranger, is it?” Along with their quirky ideas about spirituality, the Sirens liked to play matchmakers with the town’s unsuspecting residents. Usually this worked out. But, at times, they created romantic mayhem in Sweet Lake, Ohio. “Because if it is, cast your spell on someone else. I don’t have time to date. If I ever hang out my shingle, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Sending out good vibrations isn’t the same as casting a spell. Sirens aren’t witches, you know. We’re wise women. Our combined wisdom can help you.”
“Are we done here?” Jada pointed toward the confections lined up on the counter. “I’m nowhere near finishing the desserts.”
“Wait.” Penelope dug around in her purse. “Keep this with you. It will help resolve the burden.”
She withdrew a homemade sachet. The string knotted around the small bag boasted the familiar feathers and stones used to decorate Siren tokens. From beneath the colorful fabric, a sharp green scent perfumed the air.
Jada took another sniff, relishing the aroma. If accepting the gift would get Penelope and Tilda out of the kitchen, there was no harm in playing along. “Mind telling me why I should wear a sachet with rosemary inside?”
Tilda put in, “We do mind.” Beside her, Penelope nodded in solemn agreement. “Mostly because we don’t have the answer yet.”
“You don’t know why I should wear rosemary?”
“We know the herb is important,” Tilda said. “Every time we dream about you, we also dream about rosemary.”
“I’m a pastry chef. Why not put me in dreams with chocolate sprinkles or crème fraîche?”
“Would it matter if we did?”
“Probably not.”
From the corridor, a commingling of voices filtered in. The sixtyish Norah Webb swept into the room. Her graceful carriage was a remnant of the years of runway modeling during her youth. The much shorter Ruth Kenefsky marched in behind her.
The look on their faces sent Jada’s mood spiraling downward. Another disaster with Linnie upstairs?
Whatever the setback, she didn’t relish hearing the play-by-play.
A center island dominated the Wayfair’s kitchen. On the opposite side, three members of the morning staff inched toward the sink. A wise move. Norah gave them an imperious glance before setting her sights on Jada.
“You’re needed upstairs immediately, if not sooner.” Norah peered down her hawkish nose. “We have another problem.”
“I’ve already gone up twice.” Jada reached for the rolling pin. On the marble pastry board she’d chilled prior to her last sprint upstairs, the pie dough wept silently. Leave it much longer, and it would become soggy mush. “Can’t the rest of you deal with this? Narrow Linnie’s choices down to three wedding gowns. Once you do, I’ll go back upstairs.”
“She insists on hearing your opinion.”
“Norah, I can’t race upstairs every ten minutes to lend an opinion. Who made me an expert? I’ve never been married.”
“As if your sad excuse of a private life matters. She’s demanding you go up, ASAP.”
The remark about her private life was a low blow, but Jada let it slide. Summoning the last of her patience, she said, “Tell her to wait. I’m working with butter, which will melt. I’m not throwing away half a pound of the stuff because I’m forced to watch the fashion show.” She got in Norah’s face. “Am I making myself clear?”
“Like crystal.” Norah leaned into the stare-down. Then she invaded private space to tap impatient fingers on Jada’s head. “What’s with the bandanna? Don’t you own a silk scarf for bad hair days?”
The attractive Siren had no patience for any breach in the fashion code, but Jada didn’t care. “Who has time to dig around for a silk scarf on a workday?” she countered.
Cutting in, Ruth Kenefsky unleashed her gravelly voice. “Norah, back off. Jada isn’t the problem.
Who cares how she looks when she’s roosting in the kitchen with her pastries? Besides, her BFF doesn’t need help picking out what to wear when she gets hitched in April.”
“I’m sure I’ll regret asking.” Norah compressed her lips with impatience. Then she gave Ruth her full attention. “What do you think Linnie needs?”
“The girl needs a tranquilizer. Something that’ll take her down fast, like the sedatives used to tag big game.” Oddly girlish braids of stark white framed Ruth’s face. She flicked them off her shoulders as she drove the point home. “I say we keep Linnie on high doses. If she’s this nutso already, what guarantee do we have she’ll make it down the aisle?”
“You’re suggesting we drug the bride-to-be?” Norah sputtered.
“We need an insurance policy, or she’ll hightail it when the band strikes up ‘Here Comes the Bride.’ Why are you convinced she’ll carry through with the nuptials?”
“Because she’s in love. Why else?”
Ruth snorted. “As if a healthy sex drive is any guarantee of common sense. When doesn’t Linnie second-guess every decision? Why, she never makes up her mind until Jada does her King Solomon routine and walks her through the options.”
“Oh, please,” Jada put in, her patience fleeing for the exits. “I don’t do a wise man routine with Linnie . . . not all the time.”
“You do, and you’re needed upstairs,” Norah said, motioning toward the door. “Are you coming?”
Ruth stomped her foot. “Norah, why don’t you stick to fashion advice? You don’t know the first thing about human nature. Can’t you see we’re past the easy fixes? Let’s drug the bride.”
The women continued arguing, and Jada leaned heavily against the counter. There was no disputing Ruth’s dour opinion. Only a miracle would carry Linnie Wayfair through the prewedding jitters and deposit her safely on her wedding day, at the end of April. Her fear of making the wrong decision would never abate until Jada soothed her with commonsense solutions. The responsibility weighed heavily on Jada.
She pitched the pie dough into the garbage.
Coming to a decision, she said, “Lead the way, ladies. We’re going upstairs.”
Each gown is a disaster.
Jada vanquished the pessimistic thought. She’d already shooed the Sirens from the suite. Too many opinions had become counterproductive. She was having trouble hearing herself think.
The Season of Silver Linings Page 1