The Season of Silver Linings

by Christine Nolfi

  “Will you please do the same?” she asked.

  “Do the same . . . ?”

  “Forgive yourself, and let the past go.”

  The advice tightened his throat. With a nod, he strode out.

  He pulled out of the driveway and drove all the way to the stop sign before bringing the truck to a grinding halt.

  Shafts of sunlight cut across the street. Squinting through the glare, he failed to get his bearings. Penelope’s well-meaning advice scraped against the guilt he’d carried for seven long years.

  Forgive himself?

  He didn’t know how.

  The following week rushed by. With the end of March nearing, Jada was thrilled to see bookings at the inn begin to rise. The lake was still too cold for swimming, but the Wayfair’s increasing fortunes had sparked new businesses in town. Several of Sweet Lake’s more industrious sportsmen began taking the inn’s guests out on leisurely boat rides, or to fish the blue waters for walleye and largemouth bass. The baking lessons with Millicent continued and, twice a week, the Sirens hosted free yoga classes on the beach. Frances Dufour and Silvia Mendoza, when their schedules permitted, took vacationers on nature walks through the forest.

  Jada welcomed the rush of the upcoming season. With more tasks occupying her days, she managed to avoid spending too much time analyzing the kiss she’d shared with Philip. They’d only spoken on the phone twice since then. Each time, she’d politely declined his invitation to stop by the house. Feeling unmoored by the change in their relationship, she needed time to sort herself out.

  Mr. Uchida came into the kitchen muttering incomprehensible Japanese. One of the inn’s oldest employees, he oversaw the staff manning the front desk.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She’d just finished preparing the last dessert for the day’s menu, a chocolate cream pie with fluffy peaks of whipped cream.

  “I need to speak with Linnie. She’s not in her office.”

  “She went down to the beach.” They were looking into purchasing cabanas for the summer season, and she was meeting with the rep. Jada loved the idea of adding the elegant cobalt-blue-and-white cabanas for guests to enjoy during the hottest months. “She’ll return soon. What do you need? I’ll take care of it.”

  “Will you talk to the Sirens?” Mr. Uchida asked. “They’re in the ballroom.”

  “I wasn’t aware they’d stopped by.” With Linnie’s upcoming wedding, the Sirens were at the inn more often than usual to discuss the preparations. “Is it a problem?”

  Mr. Uchida held up a note. “I have another call about renting out the ballroom. A women’s club in Dayton. They’re looking for a venue to host a summer retreat, and a dinner on the last night. They want to see the ballroom. I’m afraid to set up a time for the viewing.”

  “They’re driving down this week?”

  “Only if I can give them a firm time for a tour. Jada, I can’t set up appointments with the Sirens dropping by whenever the whim strikes.”

  “They promised to give us advance notice. Linnie’s reception is important, but we will have other events scheduled this season.” Jada followed him into the lobby. “Go back to work. I’ll talk to them.”

  Last summer, the Wayfair had ended its long decline. As guests began returning to the historic inn, Linnie made an investment to freshen up the ballroom. The dull grey walls were painted a stylish ivory color with a hint of pink at the base. With Jada’s help, they’d polished every crystal droplet of the chandelier, which hadn’t thrown sparkling light on partygoers for nearly a decade. A cleaning service came in to polish the long expanse of parquet flooring. Today the ballroom, where earlier generations of Linnie’s family once oversaw formal dinners and lavish events, was again the prettiest jewel in the Wayfair’s crown.

  Twenty-five round tables formed a necklace around the dancing area and the dais beyond. Frances, Tilda, and Ruth huddled around a table near the front. Cat’s mother, Silvia, who usually preferred flamboyant clothing, paced between tables in an uncharacteristically subdued beige suit. Evidently the meeting was important enough to make the accountant late for work.

  Tilda was the first to notice the intrusion. “Jada, I was hoping you’d pop in. There’s something I’ve been dying to ask you,” she said, the remark earning her black looks from Silvia and Frances. “Or not,” she added quickly, and they nodded with approval.

  “Good,” Jada said, frowning at the puzzling exchange between the women. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “By the way, I’ve had another dream about you. Really fascinating.”

  “Tilda . . .”

  “Oh. All right. Private chitchat. Should I find you after we’re finished here?”

  “Only if you give me fair warning first. You know, to give me time to hide.”

  The perky Realtor shimmied her shoulders, unsure if she should laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “To be perfectly honest . . . I’m not.” The Siren meant well, and Jada shifted nervously from foot to foot. She searched for a diplomatic way to let Tilda down. “Would you please do me a favor? Dream about someone else.”

  “You’re not interested?” The prospect deflated the petite Siren like a punctured balloon.

  “I’m not. I’m sorry.”

  The apology missed the mark. “You don’t seem the least bit grateful,” Tilda pouted. “Not everyone gets to benefit from Siren dreams. I can’t believe you’re willing to pass up the opportunity to understand the future.”

  “Let the future come as it will. I’ll figure it out as I go along.” She recalled the blistering kiss Philip had laid on her, and his six-year-old’s fascination with boobies. “My life is getting weird enough on its own. I don’t need your nocturnal ramblings added to the mix.”

  “Fine. I get it.” Insulted, Tilda swished her cinnamon-colored hair. “You don’t have to get snippy. I’m only trying to help.”

  Frances shuffled through the index cards before her. “Tilda, please. She’s given you an answer. There’s no need to belabor the point.” The elderly Siren regarded Jada. “It’s nice of you to join us. Your opinion will add zest to the debate.”

  “I’m not here to lend a hand.”

  She reminded the Sirens about the promise they’d made to call ahead whenever they planned to work in the ballroom. After the women promised to do so, she turned to leave.

  Index cards were fanned out across the table. Wedding guests were listed on the heavy card stock, eight names per card. But not by family—the names appeared randomly set down on each card.

  Curious, Jada picked one up. “What are you doing?” she asked Frances.

  “Other than tearing my hair out? We’re debating the seating for the reception. There’s been some disagreement.”

  Ruth snorted. “Don’t sugarcoat the facts. We’re on the brink of outright war.”

  “Oh, hush.”

  It was unlikely Linnie would sanction a seating plan that wasn’t by family. “Does Linnie know you’re working on this?” Jada asked.

  “She gave us permission to get started,” Frances explained. “We’ll show her the end result when we’re finished. There’s no sense dragging her into the middle of the debate.”

  Silvia regarded her with disbelief. “We’re not debating. I’m doing my level best to avert disaster.” Shorter and more robust than Frances, the co-leader of the Sirens was also more prone to anger. “Frances, you and Tilda can’t alter tradition at will. How do you expect Linnie to react once she sees the seating plan? And Ruth, I can’t believe they reeled you into this madness.”

  Ruth flicked a blank card in Silvia’s direction. “I’m considering the big picture,” she snapped. “Why aren’t you? The wedding will give us a chance to grow the town’s population. You want Sweet Lake to stay rinky-dink forever?”

  Jada looked from one woman to another. “Hold on. What does Linnie’s reception have to do with the town’s population?” There wasn’t an obvious connectio
n, which meant the Sirens were up to something.

  If the past was any guide, they were up to something crazy.

  The question disappeared beneath the tension blooming between the women. War looming on the horizon, with no one willing to back down.

  Tilda broke the silence. “You’re wrong, Silvia. Ruth does have a point. How often do we have a party with more than half the town in attendance? None of the Sirens are getting any younger.”

  Silvia grunted. “Speak for yourself. I’m holding pat in my sixties, and going no further.”

  “Easy for you to say. Most of the Sirens have seen men come and go, or have buried husbands—or they’re fortunate like you, and still have a husband. What about me? I’m only forty-six. I deserve to find a man who’ll stick like glue. So do the other Sirens who are looking for love.” Tilda skimmed a polished finger down a typewritten sheet positioned between the stacks of index cards. “Frances, I’ve made up my mind. Seat me by the new dog groomer.”

  The decision lifted Frances’s silvery brows. “The stud opening up the place on Maple Street? Good heavens, Tilda. You are ambitious. He’s not much older than Jada. Late thirties, I’d guess. Are you sure?”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Frances made a note. “Surprising he’s invited.”

  “I put the idea in Daniel’s head.” Tilda beamed. “He’s drawing up the articles of incorporation for Pampered Pets.”

  In lowered voices, they began discussing the dog groomer and the other eligible bachelors invited to the reception. Unsure how to stop them, Jada searched her frazzled brain for a quick fix. Like she needed one more problem on her plate.

  She was still hunting for a solution when Silvia regarded her impatiently. “Why aren’t you backing me up?” she demanded. “Or don’t you care if the mad plotters turn your best friend’s wedding into a dating service?”

  “I do care. Perhaps I should handle the table assignments myself.”

  “You don’t have time.”

  “I’ll make time, Silvia. Okay?” Absently, Jada brushed at her temples and the faint pounding of a headache coming on.

  “Between baking lessons with Millicent and helping Fancy settle on a dress for the wedding, you don’t have spare time. Even if you did, you’d never talk the Sirens out of this. They’ll only listen to me.”

  An accurate assessment. Jada was about to toss the problem back into Silvia’s lap when Philip’s name lifted from the hushed conversation at the table.

  “What about Philip?” she asked Tilda.

  “We’re deciding if we should seat him by Daisy.”

  “Daisy, in Housekeeping?” The strawberry blonde was barely in her twenties, with the excitable nature of a terrier. “You can’t. He’s sitting at the head table with the wedding party.”

  With me, she nearly added.

  “For dinner only. We’ll have Philip move to Daisy’s table before Linnie and Daniel cut the wedding cake. We’ve already run the idea by Daisy. She’s thrilled. Wouldn’t they make a darling couple?”

  Jada recoiled. “In what universe?”

  At her reaction, Silvia and Frances shared a meaningful glance. There wasn’t time to analyze it as Tilda spoke again.

  “This one,” she said, laughing. “The wedding is the perfect opportunity for Mr. Lonely Heart to find love again. Since we’re putting Daisy right in his path, he doesn’t have to look too far.”

  “She’s too young for him!”

  The outburst made Ruth harrumph with disbelief. Or she feigned disbelief—Jada got a funny feeling she was missing something.

  “Jada, who gave you stupid pills?” Ruth said. “Young is exactly what Philip needs.”

  “How can you possibly know what he needs?” she demanded.

  The question deepened the wrinkles crisscrossing Ruth’s brow. “Just because I never got hitched doesn’t mean I haven’t enjoyed intimacy now and again.” She cocked her head, then stuck out her tongue with uncontained petulance. “I’ve had plenty of men in my time.”

  “Thanks for sharing. Not that I have any idea what your sex life, real or imagined, has to do with Philip.”

  “Don’t get sassy. I know men, and I can tell you this—Philip is as red-blooded as they come. The man is in his prime. He hasn’t been on a date in years. There’s nothing more pitiful than a stud with the means to give good lovin’ and no prospects in sight.”

  “Ruth, you’re no expert on his prospects.”

  With a huff, the feisty Siren flipped her white braids over her shoulders. “Good grief, Jada. You’re his friend. Don’t you want him to find happiness? Imagine all the lust he’s been saving up.”

  Tilda cradled her chin on her hand. “Imagining Philip’s lust makes my heart jumpy. If I were anywhere near Daisy’s age . . .”

  Jealousy, neon green and unbecoming, gripped Jada by the throat. “Philip’s lust is none of your business,” she informed Tilda. “Of all the—Daisy, seriously? Her last boyfriend had peach fuzz on his cheeks and an addiction to Super Mario games. Granted, she’s a sweet kid. But she’s light-years too young for a mature, responsible man like Philip.”

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around.

  Linnie eyed her with interest. “Calm down. It’s okay,” she whispered. A disorienting turn of events since Jada was usually the one doling out soothing words. Linnie bounced a thumb toward the double doors that led out to the lobby. “Got a minute? There’s something I need to go over with you.”

  “The cabanas. Right.” She discovered that rage had glued her feet to the floor.

  Linnie arched a brow. “Are you coming?”

  Dismay ate through the rage, and Jada sucked in a breath. What was wrong with her? She was having a public hissy fit, her first ever, and the Sirens were studying her closely. Like vultures homing in for the kill.

  She gave a stiff nod. “If you’ll excuse us,” she mumbled, turning on her heel.

  Chapter 9

  Jada sailed out of the ballroom with the troubling awareness that she couldn’t feel her toes. The buzzing in her ears didn’t help, nor did the headache ringing through her skull.

  In the lobby, Mr. Uchida was helping a fortyish couple bring their luggage to the front desk. Jada veered toward the corridor that led to her office.

  Linnie grabbed hold of her arm. “Let’s get some air,” she suggested.

  “I can’t breathe.” Jada allowed Linnie to steer her outside.

  “Yes, you can,” Linnie assured her. “You just don’t have much experience with anger. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect the Sirens were lighting your wick on purpose. Guess they didn’t know they were lighting dynamite.”

  Jada trotted down the steps and onto the wide span of lawn. “I’m not angry.”

  A half-truth, because the jealousy simmering inside her carried a nice undernote of fury. What right did the Sirens have to meddle in other people’s affairs? As if fixing Daisy up with Philip made any sense. Jada fended off the desire to march back into the ballroom and give the Sirens an even bigger piece of her mind.

  Linnie came to a standstill, presumably to talk. Unable to control the emotion simmering inside her, Jada kept moving.

  “We’re taking a walk? Oh, okay.” Puffing out breaths, Linnie jogged to catch up. She tugged her smartphone from her jeans. In a teasing voice, she talked into the device. “Code red. Meet us at the beach. Jada is having a meltdown.”

  Jada darted a look of annoyance. “Don’t give me your comedy routine, all right? It’s not making me feel better.”

  “Hey, let me enjoy this.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “How often do I see you at full froth? If you’re curious, I knew the Sirens were doing the matchmaking thing for my reception. No harm, no foul. Why did their devious plan make you ballistic? Lots of people hook up at weddings.”

  Providing an explanation proved impossible. Or too humiliating. Jada couldn’t decide which.

  On the beach, a
couple with twin boys sat near the water building sandcastles. Gulls swooped overhead.

  Jada stalked past. When she’d reached a suitable distance, she kicked off her shoes. She walked into the surf with embarrassment prickling her skin. Had she actually shouted at the Sirens? She wasn’t sure. Nor was she willing to imagine the conclusion they’d drawn from her behavior.

  Cat approached with her shoes dangling from her fingers. “Why is Jada having a meltdown?” she asked Linnie.

  “Got me. I’m waiting for her to calm down and explain.”

  “She’s really mad?”

  Linnie nodded. “Big time.”

  Jada gave them a thunderous glance. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here. It’s really irritating. And stop joking around. Both of you.”

  Linnie pulled off her heels and joined her in the surf. She’d dressed up today, in a nice sweater and a hip-hugging skirt.

  “No more jokes,” she promised. She rubbed Jada’s arm, a comforting gesture sorely needed at the moment. “Ready to talk? Or do you need more time to calm down?”

  “I’m all right, Linnie.” Far from it, but she was making an effort.

  From the shore, Cat said, “You don’t look all right.”

  Linnie nodded in agreement. Then she said, “Correct me if I’m wrong. I had the impression you weren’t mad about the Sirens playing matchmaker with the seating chart for my wedding. You were upset about them fixing Daisy up with Philip. Mind explaining why? I mean, let’s face it. Philip won’t get back into the game without a push. He’s been flying solo for so long, he’s forgotten how to find a copilot.”

  “Oh yeah? The Sirens are giving him the wrong flight plan.”

  Linnie’s eyes lit with interest. “There’s someone else he’d like to date? He shared his deepest, darkest secrets with you? That’s great!” Her attention bounded across the lake. Apparently the new game thrilled her. “Let me guess.”

  Inwardly, Jada cringed. “Oh, I really wish you wouldn’t.” There was no easy way to explain about the kiss she’d shared with Philip.

  The objection didn’t blot out Linnie’s enthusiasm. “Charlene Frieze?” she guessed, caught up in the game. “They dated in high school for at least ten minutes. You remember the phase when Philip went after most of the girls on the debate team? Mr. Hot Body sure knew how to get around. I heard Charlene’s divorce has finalized. Her boys are mud monsters, but Fancy can learn to bend.”