The necklace was the final—and clearly most expensive—gift Brad had brought back from Paris. “It must have cost a fortune,” Laura gasped.
“Nothing to worry your precious little head about,” Brad retorted. “My promotion will cover it and then some.”
Laura gave her husband an incredulous look. Heart pounding, she dared ask, “Your what?”
“Oops, forgot to mention that,” Brad laughed. “The trip to Paris all but clinched the deal with the Campbell Group. I should get at least an extra ten-thou per annum out of this.”
When Bit overheard Brad, she looked over at her mother and exclaimed, "See, Mom, I told you Brad was rich!"
Brad’s steely blue eyes danced in the radiant glow of the firelight. Even though he'd just flown halfway around the world, he looked tan and fit in his khakis and blue sweater. He could use a shave, but the dimple on his finely chiseled chin was the perfect touch, Laura thought.
Laura snaked her long, slender arms around Brad's neck and pulled his face toward hers. “Congratulations," she said. "I am so proud of you. With or without the promotion, I love you.”
“And I'm kinda crazy about you,” Brad whispered back. He unclasped the necklace and dangled it around her neck. He looked over at Bit, who was still busy tearing into her own packages and asked, “What do you think, cupcake?”
“It's all right," she said nonchalantly, then went back to destroying the pricey wrapping paper. “What’s in here, anyway?” she wondered, shaking the package while tearing at the fancy silk ribbons.
“Keep going,” Brad teased. “You’ll get to the good part soon enough.”
Laura and Brad sat on the sofa watching Bit finish ripping open the paper. She unsnapped a box, reached in and pulled out a doll. It had long, dark hair with Victorian ringlets and dressed in a long, old-fashioned velvety dress and jacket.
Bit’s eyes grew the size of saucers. “She's beautiful,” she said softly, “I love her to death!” she shouted, swinging the doll around in wide circles. “I love her, I love her!” Then, to Laura, she said, “Isn’t she the most beautiful doll you’ve ever seen, Mom?”
Laura nodded. She had to admit, the doll was gorgeous. She shuddered to think how much it must have cost. Rarely had she seen Bit so happy. “What do you say to your father, sweetheart?”
Bit got up and jumped onto Brad’s lap. “Thank you, Brad, thank you, thank you, thank you.” She gave him short, choppy kisses all across the top of his head.
“We’ve got only one problem,” Brad said.
Bit cocked her head and gave him a perplexed look. “What’s that?”
“I think she needs a name. Can you think of one?”
Bit brightened. “Oh, that’s easy, silly,” she said. “I’ve already got one for her—Anastasia.”
“Anastasia?” Brad asked. “What kind of name is that?”
“Russian. She was the czar’s daughter, Brad, don’t you know anything?”
Brad looked over at Laura in amazement. "Thanks for the history lesson. You’re a regular little professor, aren’t you?”
“Everybody knows who Anastasia was,” Bit retorted.
Brad leaned back, beaming. “Everybody happy?" he asked. "Did I forget anything?"
Laura waited another moment, then leaned toward him and whispered: "Pizza?"
Brad snapped his fingers. "Darn! I knew there was something else."
"That's okay, Brad," Bit said. "Anastasia and I will forgive you this time."
Brad pretended to whack her on the bottom. “Speaking of pizza, what do you say we get something to eat? I’m starved.”
⸙
WHEN BRAD FOUND Laura alone in the kitchen, he came up behind her and nuzzled the back of her neck. “I really missed you," he said softly. "Especially these,” he teased, reaching around and gently fondling her breasts. He ran his hands up and down her hips.
Laura whirled away, laughing. “Hold your horses, buster, there's time for that later. Right now I’ve got to fix you something to eat. You must be famished.”
"In more ways than one."
While Laura fiddled in the kitchen, Brad went to his briefcase, opened it up and brought out a small black box. “Here,” he said, handing the cigar-sized box to her. “A little something else for you.”
“What’s this?” she asked, eyes gaping.
“I wanted to wait until we were alone before I showed it to you.”
“Ooh, sounds mighty mysterious.”
“Open it up and find out.”
Laura unpeeled the tape and ripped open the paper to reveal a black plastic box. She unsnapped the box carefully.
Inside lay a pistol.
⸙
LAURA STARED AT the gun for a moment, as if in shock. “What's this?” she asked, not daring touch the nickel-plated pistol.
“What do you think?”
“It looks like a gun.”
“It’s more than just a gun,” Brad said. “It’s a Beretta 92FS nine-millimeter semi-automatic. Holds nine rounds, but seventeen with the extender. You can fire it as fast as you can pull the trigger, and it has a range of more than a mile.” He popped out the magazine and showed her the conical-shaped bullets. “You slide this in here like so, press this red button—the safety—and then you pull the trigger.”
Laura was both confused and shocked. “But Brad, you know how I feel about guns. Why did you give me this?”
Brad leaned over and planted another kiss on the back of her neck. “You never know what you might run into up here in the mountains. I hear these hillbillies are horny little psychopaths."
“But whatever gave you the idea I wanted a gun? I've never even fired one.”
Brad clamped her hand around the gun’s grip. “Then do it for me. Do it for Bit. I’d feel a whole lot safer knowing you had it, at least while you're up here and I’m away.”
Laura gave Brad a stunned look. “What do you mean, while you’re away?”
Brad sighed. “There’s a chance I’ll have to drive back down to Atlanta tomorrow. Only for a day or two, then I’ll come back up.”
“But you just got here…”
Brad pressed his finger against her lips. “I know, I know. But this is important.”
“But we’re on vacation. What’s so important it can’t wait until after Christmas?”
Brad drew a deep sigh. “It’s just some paperwork I have to put together for the Campbell deal. It’s nothing, really.”
“Can’t you do it from here? Isn’t that what laptops are for?”
Brad shook his head. “I’ll only be gone a couple of days. That’s why I wanted you to have the gun.”
Exasperated, Laura hefted the pistol in both hands. "Does it make a lot of noise?" she grumped.
Brad smiled. "A little."
“What if I miss?”
“Believe me, darling, you won’t miss with this.”
Laura recoiled from the feel of the gun. It might as well have been a poisonous viper coiled in her hands. “Meanwhile,” she said, “what do I do with it? I don’t want it around Bit.”
“Here,” Brad said. He opened a drawer in the small table by the front door and put it inside. “Perfect home for it.” He slid the door shut. “It’ll be safe here. If you ever need it, you'll know where it lives."
Chapter Twenty-One
THE THREE OF THEM sat at the table, feasting on lasagna and spinach salad with slices of tomatoes and spring onions.
Earlier, Brad had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and brought in more wood. With Bit looking on, he had built up a roaring fire, then lay back with his feet warming against the hearth.
"You look funny," Bit laughed.
Behind them, Laura bustled about, cleaning up the dishes. In the window, she caught glimpses of the diamond necklace reflected in the glass. She touched it with her fingers, still unable to believe it was hers.
The rain had grown steadily harder, slapping against the sides of the house and banging against the glass windows
with startling fury. On the roof above the vaulted cathedral ceiling, Laura thought it sounded like a herd of horses galloping across the slate shingles.
Later that evening over a bottle of wine, Laura had told him about the bells and strange visitations down on the beach.
"Are you serious?" he asked, pouring another glass of Burgundy.
"Just wait around long enough, you'll hear them yourself," Laura retorted.
Brad leveled his gaze at Laura. “You really are serious, aren't you?" He looked across the table at Bit, then swung his attention back to Laura. “So, am I to believe this place is supposed to be haunted or something?"
"I wouldn’t go that far."
"This is heavy stuff, angel face. Have you mentioned any of this to Danny?"
"No. We've only talked once since we've been here."
"That jerk. I'll bet you ten to one he's behind this somehow. One of his freaking little pranks."
"I don't think so," Laura said. "This is different. It’s real. No pranks. And it's freaking us out."
Brad saw Bit and Laura exchange secretive glances. "Hey, am I missing out on something here? What are you two up to, huh?”
Laura patted the top of Brad's hand. “Nothing we can’t talk about it later,” she said.
Bit perked up. “Oh, you can go ahead and tell him about those boys if you want to,” she said, sticking a forkful of lasagna inside her mouth. "You've already told him about the bells.”
Eyebrow arched, Brad looked first at Bit, then back at Laura. “Boys? Bells? Come on, guys, what’s going on around here?”
Laura planted both elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “A few nights ago, Bit thought she saw a couple of little boys down on the beach.”
“What were they doing?”
Laura hesitated. “She said they were looking up at her window. It scared her.”
Brad scratched his chin. “Okay, I get it. They were boys. Did you know them? Were they from around here?”
Laura shrugged her shoulders. “That’s just it, Brad,” she said, “There are no boys up here, at least this time of year. Believe me, I’ve checked it out.” Lowering her voice, she leaned over and whispered, “I don’t even know if they were real.”
“Yes they were real,” Bit interjected. “I saw them, Brad, honest. Just like I see you now. They were looking straight at me.” She pushed back her salad. “I saw them just like I heard those church bells.”
At that moment the front door bell rang and everybody jumped.
"That's not a church bell," Brad joked.
Bit and Laura looked at each other. "I wonder who that could be," Laura said, as Bit jumped up, rushed across the room and opened the door. “Paul,” she heard Bit exclaim.
Laura and Brad turned to see Paul Wilson standing in the doorway. He was dripping wet. Bit threw her arms around the young man's waist and squeezed. “Look who’s here, Mom, it’s Paul!”
Brad stopped chewing and gave Laura a look that could freeze hellfire. “Paul?”
This was not going to be easy, Laura thought.
⸙
“HELLO, PAUL,” Laura said. “You’re soaking wet. Come on in here by the fire and dry off.” Paul glanced at Brad and took note of the look on Laura’s husband’s face. As he slung off his rain jacket and slipped out of his books, Laura said, “Paul, I’d like you to meet my husband.”
Paul hesitated a moment, then stepped toward the fire.
To Brad, Laura said, “Honey, this is Paul Wilson, our neighbor.”
Brad glared at the handsome young stranger.
It was clear this was not playing out well.
Paul extended his hand, but pulled it back. “I'd shake your hand, Brad, but as you can see, I'm all wet." He noticed that Brad was not amused. He straightened, said: "I’ve heard a lot about you.”
"Here, sit down by the fire,” Laura said, sliding a ladder-back chair closer to the hearth. “Let me get you some hot tea. She hurried into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a cup of fresh-brewed Earl Gray. “What are you doing out so late?" she asked, handing him the cup.
Paul slumped down into the chair and took a sip of tea. Grinning, he pushed back a lock of damp hair from his forehead. “I was just passing by and saw the car,” he explained. “Not many Mercedes in these parts. Thought something might be wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Paul,” Laura clarified. “Brad just drove up from Atlanta. He’s been in Paris for the past week." Trying desperately to defuse the situation, she asked: "Paul, didn’t you live in Paris once?”
Paul nodded. “If you call staying in the moldy, one-room basement of a dilapidated seventeenth-century tenement house living, then I guess I lived there,” he laughed. “But, that was a long time ago while I was studying art at the Sorbonne.” When Brad made no comment, Paul asked, “So, just how is the City of Lights these days, Brad?”
Finally, Brad spoke. “Damp and smelly as always. Lousy food and long-haired fags making nuisances of themselves,” he replied in a cool, smug tone.
“Brad!” Laura exclaimed, shocked at his tone. “that’s no way to talk around your daughter.”
Bit piped up, “Look what Brad brought me back all the way from Paris, France,” she said, showing Paul the Victorian doll.
“Cool,” Paul said. He wiped his hands dry on a hand-towel Laura had tossed him from the kitchen. “What’s her name?” he asked, fondling the expensive doll.
“Anastasia!”
“Anastasia,” Paul repeated. “That’s a clever name. Do you know who the real Anastasia was?”
"Of course. She was the daughter of Czar Nicolas the second, but she was killed by the Bolsheviks.”
“Hey, I’m impressed," Paul replied. "You certainly know your Russian history."
Brad made a grunting noise, then stood up and glowered at the young bearded man.
Paul got the hint. “Well, guess I’ll be going, now that I know you’re all okay.” He got up to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Brad.” When Brad chose not to respond, he gave Bit a playful poke on the arm. “See you later, Bitster.”
“Bye, Paul,” Bit said.
Laura walked Paul to the door. "You're going to get drenched," she said. "At least let me give you an umbrella."
Paul turned his face upward and smiled as the light rain splattered his cheeks. "Ah, for me the sun is shining." He winked. "Remember? Beethoven."
Laura saw him out the door then heaved a high sigh. What now, she wondered, as she turned back around to face an unhappy husband.
Twenty-Two
“BEETHOVEN?" BRAD SNEERED.
He stood outside on the deck, leaning against the railing and working on another glass of wine. Laura could tell he'd already had too many. "Bitster?"
"That's just some little nickname Paul came up with. He's really fond of Bit."
"What about you?"
Laura saw the look, smiled. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Paul is harmless."
Laura had put Bit to bed around eleven, then joined Brad out on the deck. They had argued a while about Paul, then sat down in the Adirondack lounge chairs to watch what was left of the thunderstorm sweep away over the mountains.
Brad's stony silence matched the mood of the stormy night. Laura sighed, hoping Brad would not start it up again.
The moon had just come out, casting an eerie, orange glow over the velvety-dark waters. Overhead, a million starts cartwheeled across the heavens, twinkling and twirling against the inky-black December night sky. All Laura wanted right now was a peaceful moment with her husband, no more quarreling, just the two of them enjoying a glass of wine and the incredible view together.
“So, I leave you alone for a couple of days and you manage to have an affair.”
Laura lowered her head against Brad’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly, Brad. I told you about Paul. He’s just trying to be neighborly.”
Brad huffed. “Do you expect me to believe that? For heaven’s sake, I saw the way he was looking at you
.”
“Oh, Brad,” Laura protested, “That’s a rotten thing to say.”
Brad shifted. When Laura looked up at him, she noticed how pale and blue he looked in the moonlight.
“Where the hell did he come from, anyway?”
Laura slumped. “I told you. He’s renting a cottage down around the bend. I think he’s been up here a couple of years. He’s some kind of artist. That’s all I know.”
“In case you haven't noticed, angel face, this is a pretty high-rent district up here. What kind of idiot would rent out one of these million-dollar homes to a long-haired dopey hippie like that?"
“Oh, Brad, he's not like that. Besides, what does it matter, anyway?”
“It matters a lot,” Brad sneered. “He might be lying to you, for all you know. He might be some dangerous deviant up here casing the place, waiting for his move. I wouldn’t want some psychopath living next door to my family.”
“Paul’s not a psychopath. And he's not a hippie, either.”
"How do you know all that?"
Laura shrugged. "I told you. He's just trying to be nice. Even offered to take Bit sailing."
Brad pushed away. Laura could sense the anger welling up inside him was reaching a dangerous level. "I was going to do that," he pouted. "Why the hell would I want my daughter to go off sailing with some creep we don't even know. He's probably into drugs."
"He's not into drugs, and he's certainly not a creep," Laura retorted. Then: "Bit was just upset when you didn't come up with us," she explained. "Paul was kind enough to offer to take her out on his boat, that's all."
⸙
WHILE LAURA AND Brad bickered outside, Bit had crawled out of bed and trotted quietly into the living room. From there she could hear everything her parents were saying outside on the deck.
"Let me get this straight," Brad said. He drew a lengthy pause, continued. "A total stranger walks up to you out of the woods, and the next thing you know he's painting pictures of you. What's next, a study of you in the nude?"
The People in the Lake Page 11