The Season of Silver Linings

by Christine Nolfi

With a nod in the affirmative, Jada set her coffee aside. “After dinner, we walked up to Sweet Lake Circle. Philip kissed me, and I noticed a small scar at the base of his neck.”

  “A scar? From what?”

  “Bodi, during their marriage. Before Fancy was born. They had an argument, he walked away.” Jada pressed her hand to her belly, sickened by the retelling. “She came at him with a knife. Philip drove himself to the hospital for stitches. Promise you won’t tell.”

  “Bodi attacked him? We all knew she had issues with her temper, but not like this. Poor Philip. And of course, you know I’d never say anything.”

  “And poor Millicent.” Frustration brimmed in Jada as she swiped the curls from her brow. “I’m sure she’s Bodi’s grandmother. Why else stay in Sweet Lake, and keep steering conversations back to seven years ago? She doesn’t know if Bodi is dead or alive. And she’s determined to track her down.” She took a deep breath. “Linnie, I’ve grown to care about her. Millicent is prickly—but sweet at the most unexpected moments. She can never have Bodi again, but she can become part of Fancy’s life. Why shouldn’t she have the opportunity?”

  “You’re not telling her she has a great-granddaughter.” Linnie regarded her with pity. She sighed. “Assuming she is Fancy’s great-grandmother.”

  “How can I? Philip wasn’t merely in a bad marriage—he was trapped in an abusive marriage. He’s only capable of discussing Bodi in brief snatches. How can I ask him to allow Millicent to become part of Fancy’s life? It’ll only dredge up memories he wants to forget.”

  “And Fancy?”

  “I love her, Linnie. No matter what happens between me and Philip, I want to do right by her.”

  “You will—you do.”

  “She’s too young to understand she looks exactly like Bodi.”

  “Like a carbon copy.”

  Angry, Jada brushed away the welling tears. “She’s aware she doesn’t resemble the Ketterings, or carry a physical resemblance to anyone in her life. How can I hide from her the very thing she craves? What if Fancy has other relatives she resembles closely? Aunts and uncles with cornflower-blue eyes, or cousins with the same light-blonde hair?”

  Jada made herself breathe. Willed away the tears before she crumbled.

  Once her emotions were under control, she added, “What right do I have to pretend her other family doesn’t exist?”

  Chapter 12

  The three new employees trailed behind Jada like attentive ducklings.

  She’d already finished the tour of the kitchen, the main inn, and the south wing. Since both of the men were joining the waitstaff, Jada decided to end the tour in the Sunshine Room. Darrisha Ray, ten years older than the men and a new transplant from the city of Springboro, would begin at the front desk tomorrow.

  At the restaurant’s wall of glass, Darrisha surveyed the grounds. On the lawn, several families were playing an impromptu game of soccer. Mr. Uchida had dragged folding chairs out of storage; three older men and a middle-aged woman sat watching the game.

  “I didn’t expect this much activity for the first week in April,” Darrisha remarked approvingly. Her résumé included posts with national hotels, and Jada was thrilled to hire her. “Are you always this busy in the spring?”

  Jada smiled. “We’re on the rebound. When Linnie’s parents were in charge, we were usually eighty percent full by April. After they retired, bookings dropped severely. We’re back on the upswing.”

  “You’re doing something right.”

  “I can’t take credit. Cat handles the marketing with the help of her husband, Ryan D’Angelo.”

  “I’ve met Ryan. He’s with Adworks, right? His firm handled a campaign for my last employer.”

  “We’re lucky to have his expertise. If you’d like an update on the ad campaigns scheduled for this year, Linnie will fill you in.” Jada checked her watch. “Ready? She’s waiting to help each of you complete the rest of your paperwork.”

  After depositing the new hires in Linnie’s office, Jada checked in with the kitchen staff, and Mr. Uchida at the front desk. Then she hurried to the basement to check the Housekeeping staff on laundry duty. Most afternoons, she carved out time to make the rounds. It was a task Cat detested and Linnie, focused on her wedding, now overlooked.

  Today the Wayfair hummed like a well-oiled machine. Jada welcomed a few minutes to spare.

  Revelry from the impromptu soccer match carried across the grounds as she veered around the east face of the inn. Above her on the veranda, most of the rocking chairs were occupied. The guests were sipping tea and enjoying the lazy hours before dinner service would commence. Near the grassy perimeter where the lawn met the parking lot, a towheaded youth on Philip’s crew mounted a riding mower.

  Behind the ballroom, the men wore sweat-streaked faces. With the shipment of sandstone finally at the site, they were working double time to finish the patio. They were making great progress. Half of the stone was in place. Philip stood at the back of the site, leaning on a shovel.

  Noticing her, he sauntered over. “What do you think?” There was no missing the pride in his voice.

  “You’re getting caught up fast.”

  He took her by the hand. “Come see what I picked up this morning.”

  On the lawn, several dozen azalea and boxwood plants sat on a plastic tarp. Near the back of the plant stock, a cluster of five-foot-tall fig trees rustled in the breeze.

  “Nice, aren’t they?” Philip scooted one of the fig trees closer for her inspection. “I was thinking about the ceremony arch we’re building, where Linnie and my brother will marry.”

  “You’ve come up with a final design?” He’d been mulling it over for weeks.

  “I’m using rustic branches to build the arch—I’m going for a natural look. What do you think about having the figs at each end of the arch?” When she nodded, pleased, he added, “Don’t tell Linnie. I’d like to assemble the arch, then wow her with the results.”

  The enthusiasm rippling off him was contagious. “I won’t breathe a word,” she promised.

  “Ready for the best part?”

  Letting her go, he strode to the brick stairway winding up to the back entrance of the ballroom. At the bottom of the stairway, she spotted a cluster of plants hidden against the building. The row of climbing roses thick with green buds and deep-pink blooms shared space with smaller pots of white baby’s breath.

  Jada sighed with appreciation. “Philip, they’re gorgeous. For the arch?”

  “I’ll wind the roses all the way up, then fill in with baby’s breath. Moss too. I’m still waiting for the shipment to come in. Daniel picked out the roses—another surprise for Linnie.” Dropping the subject, he glanced back at his men. Assured of their privacy, he looped an arm around her waist. “What time are you coming over tonight?”

  She melted against him even as she quirked a brow. “I never said I was coming over tonight.”

  “You should. We’ll watch a movie after Fancy goes to bed.”

  The expectancy in his eyes was appealing. “I’m planning on an early night,” she said, brushing her lips across his. “Tomorrow Cat and I have our last appointment for alterations. I don’t know why Cat made both of our appointments for the same time, at eleven. I have another cooking lesson first thing, then baking. I’m not sure how to squeeze it all in.”

  “No movie, then. I’ll let you take off at nine o’clock. Should I order carryout, or will you settle for burgers and macaroni and cheese? Fancy informed me of the menu right before Norah picked her up.”

  Clearly, he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Don’t count on me for dinner,” she warned.

  “You’re skipping out on me and the munchkin?”

  “I’m eating at my desk while plowing through paperwork. I’ll stop by once I finish.”

  “Great. I won’t keep you up past your bedtime.” He gave her a lingering kiss, then started off. He’d only walked a few paces when he pivoted back around. “What’s your take
on a night at the orchestra? I was checking out tickets, for May. I’d take you on a real date sooner, but I have an arbor to build and best man commitments.”

  “In Cincinnati?”

  “Penelope offered to watch Fancy while we’re away. We’ll stay the night in town.” He caught her eyes narrowing, and rolled forward on his work boots. “In separate hotel rooms, Jada. I’m asking you out for a night on the town. I’m not jumping the gun.”

  The offer was romantic and surprising. “We’ll talk about it tonight,” she promised.

  A real date, in Cincinnati. Strolling back around the inn, she went through a mental checklist of the dresses in her wardrobe. There weren’t many, and she welcomed the excuse to shop for something new. Aside from the upcoming wedding, her life afforded precious few opportunities to dress up.

  On a whim, Jada walked through the parking lot and down the rolling hill leading to the beach. Her worries regarding Millicent’s possible connection to Fancy remained at the back of her mind. They weren’t enough to blot out the anticipation flowing through her.

  Caught up in the sweet reverie, she allowed her heart to move past the secret regrets she harbored about the past, and the shame that left a bitter taste in her mouth whenever she remembered the snow-blistered hills and Philip’s late wife out in the blizzard, pounding on the truck’s horn.

  For a fleeting moment, she imagined the possibilities if her relationship with Philip blossomed fully.

  “Whatever you’re drinking, I’ll have some.”

  The quip startled her. Jada snapped her head up.

  On the empty beach, Millicent reclined near the water’s edge. She’d plopped down in her standard tweed skirt and removed her sensible shoes. The frumpy blazer she usually wore lay in a sandy lump by her hip. Above her left ear, she’d tucked an emerald-green feather.

  Amused, Jada tipped her head to the side. “Going for a new look?” Smiling, she motioned to the feather.

  “I’m testing the waters. I ran into Silvia and Frances earlier. They invited me to tea.” She studied Jada closely. “You’re in a happy mood. Is a person of the male persuasion the source of your happiness?”

  Glee danced across Millicent’s features. No doubt the co-leaders of the Sirens had filled her in over tea, and she knew about Jada’s new romance with Philip. “Millicent, why ask when you know the answer?”

  “This is where I usually say ‘I told you so.’ Since you’re not one of my doctoral students, I’ll refrain.” She patted the sand, waited until Jada sat. “Tell me. How are you planning to handle the new development with the little girl in the magician’s cape?”

  The friendly interest tugged at Jada’s heart. No matter how briefly Fancy entered the conversation, Millicent was quite taken with the stories about the lemon-haired sprite. Possibly her great-granddaughter, a bright new leaf on her family tree—a child she might never meet. Philip would want nothing to do with Bodi’s family.

  The situation was brutally unfair.

  Hiding the sense of resignation sifting through her, Jada slipped off her flats. “For now, I’ll stick to my role of family friend.” She plunged her feet into the soft sand. “I don’t want Fancy racing to conclusions when I’ve just begun seeing her father.”

  “Sensible.” Millicent’s green eyes were quick and assessing. “I would imagine a relationship between two adults with a solid friendship has a good chance of success. And by all accounts, he’s a man with strong fathering gifts. A good sign. He’ll treat you well.”

  “He does.”

  Millicent glanced at her appraisingly. “How are you handling the new development?”

  If prudence dictated the conversations regarding Fancy remain brief, Jada no longer felt the same compunction regarding her own life. Whatever the historian’s true aim in coming to Sweet Lake, she meant well.

  “The timing isn’t great,” she admitted. “Linnie’s wedding is at the end of the month. I don’t have lots of free time for dating. I need to keep my eye on helping Linnie through the biggest transition of her life, while ensuring the inn hums along while she settles in. She’s been awfully preoccupied—not exactly a good thing with the tourist season commencing.”

  “You won’t let her down. You’re too considerate. You wouldn’t know how.”

  The compliment stirred the regret Jada privately nursed. “I’ve had a few stumbles.” The admission weighed heavily on her heart, and she burrowed her feet deeper into the sand.

  Unbidden, the memory confronted her. The snow, falling in sheets. The panic gripping her as the sound of the ice cracking reached her ears.

  Impulsively, Jada scanned the shoreline. She found the spot where she’d stood on that treacherous day, shivering against the wind’s icy blasts, screaming out in warning, nearly blinded by the snow. The event so long ago, yet it seemed like yesterday. In all the years since, she’d never discussed those final moments—not with Philip, who’d lost so much; or Cat, who would’ve rocked Jada for hours as she unleashed the sorrow she’d kept buried for years. Not even with Linnie.

  Running from the memory, she poked at the feather bobbing by Millicent’s cheek. “My turn with the twenty questions,” she said, desperate to turn the conversation. “Who flipped you to the bright side? Frances or Silvia?”

  “Both of them, although they did mention that giving me a Siren feather was Penelope’s idea. I guess she couldn’t join us today because she’s working in her shop.” Millicent rolled her meaty shoulders with fizzy mirth. “Is there something in Sweet Lake’s water? I find my friendships with the Sirens intoxicating.”

  “They are colorful.” Jada rested her attention on a boat skimming the lake, the white sail flapping gently in the breeze. “Correct me if I’m wrong. I have the sense you don’t have many women friends.”

  “Jada, I don’t have many friends at all. What a terrible conclusion to reach in the last third of one’s life. I was too busy getting ahead to get involved. When I did get involved later on, I managed to make a mess of my career in the process.”

  “Involved . . . you mean with your husband?” She was fairly mum on the specifics of her marriage, even during the longest baking lessons.

  The question brought an impatient glance; Millicent seemed about to explain. She chuckled instead.

  “What’s funny?” Jada didn’t like the impression she was the object of a joke.

  “You, making assumptions about my marriage. Everyone does. Someday those assumptions will change.” A silence followed the cryptic remark. Then she offered a smile composed of sadness, and the sort of regret Jada readily understood. “To answer your question, it wasn’t my finest hour when I fell in love with a colleague’s spouse. The gossip nearly destroyed my career. I began plotting out my retirement the year after we married. One of the many reasons I’m persona non grata at the University of Chicago.”

  “You broke up another professor’s marriage?”

  “Heavens, no. Their marriage was a hollow shell before I entered the picture. The rare times they attended functions together, you always found them arguing in a corner over their martinis. They had one child, a daughter. They never did agree on what to do.”

  “About the daughter?”

  “It would be charitable to describe her behavior as problematic. Bipolar disorder, you see. There were so many treatment options. Not that we got far with any of them.”

  Millicent’s voice had become ragged. Jada sensed she wanted the subject dropped.

  Silently, she attempted to fit the pieces together. If Millicent was indeed the grandmother of Philip’s late wife, was she implying a history of mental illness in Bodi’s family? A history she confronted when she married Bodi’s grandfather?

  Was Millicent a step-grandmother—and Bodi’s mother was bipolar? Jada’s understanding of mental illness was limited, but she knew some disorders were inherited. Perhaps Bodi had also been bipolar, a disease she’d inherited from her mother.

  In a lighter tone, Millicent said, “If I’
ve forged one enduring friendship in my golden years, I’ve done just about everything to wreck it.”

  “You mean with the student living at your house?” Jada guessed.

  Withdrawing the feather stuck in her hair, Millicent fingered the ivory shaft. “I really must stop referring to Vasily as a houseboy. When I get home, I’ll do better. His parents live in Phoenix. He’s probably formed an attachment out of loneliness.”

  “Or he enjoys your friendship,” Jada countered. “You are likeable.” For all her wit and intelligence, Millicent seemed incapable of believing anyone would enjoy her company.

  “You really are too kind.”

  “Not at all.” Jada got to her feet. It was time to get back.

  “Are we still on for our lesson tomorrow?” Millicent asked. She gave an enigmatic smile. “I have a surprise.”

  “Seven o’clock sharp.” Jada picked up her shoes and shook off the sand. “What’s the surprise?”

  “A recipe, which comes highly recommended. Interestingly enough, the recipe contains one of my favorite ingredients—for sentimental reasons.”

  “One of the Sirens gave you a recipe? Hey, if Silvia is the culprit, we won’t have time tomorrow morning to whip up tres leches.” The Mexican cake was an old standard in the Mendoza household. “Cat and I have a fitting in town later on, and I’ll need to make headway on the inn’s desserts before we leave for the appointment. I was hoping for something easier to bake with you—cookies, perhaps?”

  “Perfect.”

  “You have a cookie recipe?”

  “As the Sirens would instruct, let events unfold in their own sweet time.” Millicent chuckled. “If I share the recipe now, I’ll ruin the surprise.”

  Philip surveyed the stuffed animals and baby dolls abandoned on the floor. Usually at least two of the dolls escorted his daughter into dreamland, along with the fat teddy bear and the softly worn stuffed bunny she’d been dragging around since her toddler years. The bolts of fabric, which Penelope and Norah had neatly stacked when they’d brought Fancy home, were no longer on the dresser. A few chunks of cloth were strewn across the floor.