by Wendy Webb
His face broke into a devilish grin, and he ran his hand through his thick white hair. “Hi!” he said. I couldn’t help smiling back. That grin was infectious.
“I’m Brynn Wilder,” I said. “Are you the other summer lodger?”
“One of them.” He hopped to his feet and came out to greet me, extending his hand. “Jason Lord,” he said, a positive energy radiating around him. “My husband, Gil, and I have been coming here every summer for . . . oh, let’s see”—he looked off for a moment—“at least five years. Maybe six.”
“I’m in the last room by the deck.” I nodded down the hallway.
“Ah, the Yellow Lady.” He smiled. “It’s a lovely room. LuAnn told us you were arriving today. We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
I peeked around him. “Wow,” I said. “This is a suite?”
He gestured into the room. “Come in! Have a look around.”
The two-level suite was enormous compared to my single room, and the vibe was totally different. It was like my room and this suite existed in two different moments in time. It had the same feel as the dining room in a way—plucked from elsewhere in time and set into the four walls of this seemingly timeless boardinghouse.
My room was vintage Victorian, but this suite was more like a Northwoods lodge. Warm wooden paneling lined the walls. The ceiling was open to the second-story hallway, which had a black wrought-iron railing. A stone fireplace reached all the way to the roof. A flat-screen TV sat on the hearth, which looked to be an entire tree trunk halved and polished so the wood shone. It faced a leather couch and love seat in the middle of the room. A small kitchen with a fridge, stove, sink, and some cherrywood cabinets was tucked into a corner, a marble-topped center island between it and the living room. On the far end of the room, french doors opened onto a private deck.
“We’ve got two bedrooms, two baths,” Jason said. “It’s really perfect for us. Much more homey than staying in a hotel all summer, plus, we like having the extra bedroom. Family always comes to visit, and this way, we can offer them a place to stay without the hassle of renting a house.”
We stood in silence for a moment, smiling at each other. “Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He grinned. “How about a glass of wine?”
I had planned to head up to the grocery store, but it could wait. “I’d love that.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” he said, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle. “Why don’t we sit on the deck and chat for a while?” He gestured toward the french doors. “You go make yourself at home, and I’ll be right there.”
Outside, I settled into an Adirondack chair and took in the view of the town’s shops, restaurants, and inns that were up the rather steep hill from the lake. Jason popped outside a moment later carrying two glasses filled with white wine, then handed one to me.
“So, the question we summer people always get is: ‘Oh, you’re spending the whole summer?’” he said, sinking into his chair. “Be prepared for it, because everyone is going to ask. They all want to know if you’re retired or taking time off or whatever. We’re a nosy bunch here in Wharton.”
I managed a chuckle, but nosy people were the last thing I wanted to deal with.
“You don’t have to tell them anything, or you don’t have to tell them the truth,” Jason said, as if reading my thoughts. “But you should have an answer ready, especially if you’re coming to happy hour today.”
“I’ve heard about this happy hour.” I sipped my wine, stalling for time. “LuAnn says it’s quite popular. Everybody wants to know everybody’s business, huh?”
Jason laughed. “This is a small town.”
Since I’d be asked to offer some sort of explanation for why I was here, I thought I might as well practice my spiel. “An old friend of mine from college lives here,” I began. “She suggested I come for the summer after a rather”—my words trailed off into a sigh—“a rather difficult few years.”
He nodded. “I get it. Taking a break from the rest of the world?”
“Something like that,” I said, tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. “I’m a college professor and was on sabbatical last year. I’m gearing up to go back to work in the fall, and I just wanted to take the summer to recharge.”
Jason reached over and squeezed my arm. “This is a very good place to do that,” he said, his voice impossibly kind.
I rested my head on the back of the chair and gave him a sidelong glance. “Thank you.”
“Who’s your friend?” he asked. “The one here in Wharton?”
“Kate Granger. Now it’s Stone, I guess. She got married last year.”
“Oh! We know her! Kate’s cousin Simon is the reason we started coming here years ago. He and Gil go way back. They went to school together.”
What a small world. Coincidences like this seemed to happen to me regularly. Some would argue they were not coincidences at all. I hadn’t been close with Kate over these past few years—more than a few—but I knew she had gone through a divorce and an upheaval of her life. I had been too busy with my own problems to be present for hers, a situation I regretted. The fact she had reached out when she heard I needed some help made me regret it even more.
“So, our story.” He cleared his throat and began. “After being a Realtor for many years, I now own a gaggle of rental properties, and Gil’s a high school teacher. I can manage what I have to manage from anywhere—I’ve got a guy who handles any maintenance issues that come up. Gil’s got the summers off, of course, so we like to take advantage of that, unplug from the world, and come here. It’s sort of our ‘life’s too short’ philosophy. Our boat is docked at the town pier, and we like to putter around from island to island—you’ll have to join us sometime soon—and we’re big kayakers, too. We’ve both been drawn to this lake as long as we can remember.”
“It sounds lovely,” I said. “What a nice way to live.”
Jason sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A shiver ran through me, but I wasn’t quite sure why.
“There’s something different about this summer, though, something you really should be aware of, since you’ll be living here,” he said.
But he didn’t get a chance to tell me what it was, because a man I presumed to be Gil poked his head around one of the french doors.
“Oh!” he said, looking at me, first with surprise, then with a grin. “Hello.”
“You’re back!” Jason said. “Honey, this is Brynn. She’ll be in the Yellow Lady this summer. Brynn, my husband, Gil Tanaka.”
Gil extended his hand. “Welcome,” he said, his dark-brown eyes holding mine in their gaze. “I’d heard we were getting another summer lodger. You have hit on the best-kept secret in Wharton. I’d never stay anywhere else.” He turned to Jason. “I don’t want to be rude to our new neighbor, but we have that conference call in a couple of minutes. Remember?”
Jason glanced down at his watch. “Is it that time already?” He let out a theatrical groan and pushed himself up from his chair. “Brynn, please excuse us. This can’t wait.” He extended his hand to me and helped me up.
“Of course,” I said. We walked back into the main room, toward the door, both sipping the last of our wine.
“It was so delightful to meet you,” Jason said. “We’ll see you at happy hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
As Jason was closing the door behind me, I caught a concerned look on Gil’s face as the two men exchanged a glance. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I wondered what was going on, if this call was about the “something different” about this summer that Jason had alluded to. But then I shooed those thoughts out of my mind. I wasn’t going to be one of Wharton’s busybodies. Their business was theirs. Not mine.
Groceries gathered, the cold stuff assembled in my fridge, and the shelf-stable items lined neatly on top of it, I was wondering what to do next when my phone rang.
“So, you made it.” I recognized Kate’s voice on the other
end of the line. “Settling in?”
I nodded, as though she could see it. “It’s great,” I said. “The place has everything I need.”
“LuAnn’s a trip! You met her?”
I chuckled. “Leopard-print leggings and all. She seems really nice. And I met a couple of the other summer lodgers today, too.”
“Jason and Gil?” she asked. “You’ll love them. They’ve been friends of Simon’s for a long time.” Kate was silent for a moment, and then continued. “How are you holding up?”
I knew the question was coming, but my whole body stiffened when I heard it. “I’m doing okay.”
“Yeah.” Kate’s voice was soft. “I’m so glad you agreed to come here. This will be just what you need. A summer of nothing but enjoying yourself. Getting back on your feet. The peace of this place will smooth out the rough edges and put life back into perspective again. I would know.”
Kate had come to Wharton to stay with her cousin when her own life had fallen apart—a nasty divorce and the loss of her job in the process—and had found love and a new life here. I didn’t know if I was ready for all of that, but the fact that she had found her feet again here in Wharton gave me hope that I might, too.
“I was planning to let you settle in and then come over for happy hour,” Kate said. “But I’ve got a meeting with a bride—and her mother, God help me. The wedding is in our ballroom in the fall, and they’re here to pick out the menu, sample some cakes, and go over the details.”
She dragged the word details out so it had several extra syllables. I could hear the groan in her voice, and it made me chuckle.
“I can already tell meeting with brides is your favorite part of the job,” I said.
She laughed. “You have no idea. We had one mother of the bride who asked if we could take the paneling out of the ballroom and paint the walls green to match their color scheme.”
“No!”
“True! Simon and Jonathan have helpfully put me in charge of all things wedding because, after a few bridezillas—and momzillas—they ‘couldn’t even.’” She chuckled. “Anyway,” she went on, “I probably won’t be able to get there today unless—”
I cut her off. “Don’t rush over here just for me,” I said. “It’s okay. Like you said, I’m settling in, and I’m pretty beat after the drive and . . . everything.”
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do lunch tomorrow or the next day to catch up.”
“Sounds good to me.” I could use the time alone tonight, I thought to myself.
After we hung up, I glanced at the clock to see I had plenty of time until the much-ballyhooed happy hour. Time enough to freshen up and rinse the travel out of my hair.
My stomach knotted a bit. I had made these arrangements in a hurry and didn’t realize I’d be sharing a shower with strangers. I hadn’t done that since my college dorm days, but when I thought about it for a bit, I remembered the drill. I had picked up a fluffy chenille robe, a couple of towels, and flip-flop sandals at a shop a few doors down. I got undressed, pulled my robe tightly around me, grabbed a big thirsty towel, and hurried down the hall, hoping nobody would be there.
I saw one shower room was occupied, but the other was free, so I quickly slipped into it and locked the door behind me. The white subway tile was pristine. There were the products, as LuAnn promised. Shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash in containers affixed to the wall. I hung my robe and towel on one of the hooks on the back of the door and turned on the taps, waiting a few moments until the water came up to temperature.
I stepped into the stream and turned my face to the water, letting it wash over me. I closed my eyes, and then the tears came, as they always did. The shower had been the place for me to cry for some time now. I tried not to utter a sound, not knowing how thick or thin the walls were. I imagined the water was washing away all the sadness that bubbled to the surface when I was vulnerable and unguarded, and I wondered how long it would take for all of it to be gone, when I could take a shower again without crying.
And then came a loud knock. My eyes shot open. I pulled my face from the stream and listened. Was somebody at the door? No, that was silly. It couldn’t have been a knock. Maybe a hot-water pipe acting up? I shampooed my hair, rinsed, and then conditioned. And there it was again. Knocking. Bang, bang, bang. But it wasn’t coming from the door. It was coming from the wall that the shower shared with another guest room.
A shiver ran through me. The banging continued as I hurried to rinse my hair, shut down the water, dry off, and pull my robe around me. I turbaned my hair with a towel, and only then did the banging stop. Now I was getting annoyed. The only explanation was another guest, deliberately banging on the shower wall. Why would they do that? How rude. I would have a talk with LuAnn about this.
I pulled open the door just as the occupant of the other shower room opened his door. My throat nearly seized up at the sight of him.
He was about six feet tall, a dark robe pulled around his massive chest, slippers on his feet. I could see tattoos peeking through the front slit of his robe, and on his wrists and legs. Strange religious symbols, animals, mystical shapes. I didn’t look too long. I couldn’t.
“Did you hear that?” he asked me, a slight southern accent making music of his words. His voice was the lowest and deepest and smoothest I had ever heard. “That banging?”
I just stared at him, my mouth open. What was I, thirteen years old? I managed to nod.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said to me, breaking into a wide movie-star grin. His mouth was perfect—the full lips, those startlingly white teeth. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. I couldn’t respond. I was mesmerized, as though I were in the thrall of a cobra.
“Don’t worry,” he said with that voice again, humor buoying it. “It’s just somebody messing with us, considering what they say about this place.”
“What do they say?” I managed to squeak out, wishing he would just keep talking.
He laughed. “Don’t you know? It’s haunted.”
I truly don’t remember how I left him, or how I got back to my room. I only know that I somehow managed to pull myself together, get dressed, and dry my hair. I made my way downstairs to happy hour, determined to find out who this man was and if what he was saying was true.
CHAPTER THREE
The bar was packed with people. Laughter and conversation filled the air, and more than one head turned when I walked into the room. I was the new girl in town, and everyone already knew it. I spotted Jason and Gil, who both put up a hand in greeting. I smiled into a sea of curious, if friendly, faces on my way over to join them.
Jason took a glass of white wine from the bartender and handed it to me. “This is Gary,” he said to me, nodding his head toward the man. “He’s ground zero for everything around here. Gare, meet Brynn. She’s in Wharton for the summer.”
Bartender Gary was a grizzled sixty or so, his heavily lined face witness to a life hard lived.
“Welcome,” he said to me, his smile warm. “Anything you need, you just come to me. I’m here all the time—too much!” He let out a throaty, whiskey-soaked laugh. “Seriously, though, whatever you need, I’ll be here.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at him.
He held my gaze longer than I was comfortable with. Was he trying to say something to me?
I sipped my wine and turned to Jason and Gil, who led me a few steps away.
“So! Are you getting settled in?” Gil asked.
“I’m all unpacked, and I had the most interesting—”
I was going to tell them about my encounter with the other summer lodger, but just then, LuAnn circled by carrying a tray of meats and cheeses.
“Hi, honey,” she chirped at me. “I see you’ve met these two ne’er-do-wells.” She nodded her head at Jason and Gil and gave them a wink. “Everybody that’s here right now I call the usual suspects. People who own or work at the inns in town, restaurant owners, people with summer places here.”
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br /> I looked around at the crowd of about twenty people.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get to know faces and names in time,” she said, brandishing her tray. “Now have some snacks, all of you, before the vultures descend.”
A dark-haired woman, whose back had been to me, turned around toward LuAnn. “Who’re you calling a vulture?” She took slices of cheese and salami and popped them into her mouth.
“Brynn, meet Beth St. John,” LuAnn said to me. “She owns the bookstore down the street.”
Beth was a woman of about fifty, with a round, kind face and big, dark eyes.
“I was glad to see Wharton had a bookstore,” I said, smiling at her. “Haven’t had too much time for reading lately, but I’m hoping to change that this summer.”
“Heard you were here for the duration,” she said. “What brings you here?”
Jason caught my eye and grinned. “I’m just enjoying the summer recharging,” I said, repeating the line I had said to him earlier.
“This is a good place to do that,” Beth said, giving me a look that I couldn’t quite define.
“Beth is a true local,” LuAnn told me. “Most of us have come from other places, but she grew up just down the road.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“On the rez just outside of town,” Beth said, taking a sip of her drink. “I tried to move to other places, but Lake Superior kept calling to me.”
“I can understand that,” I said. “It’s beautiful here.”
She smiled. “Peaceful, too. C’mon over to the bookstore anytime. If only to get away from this old biddy for a minute.”
At this, LuAnn squealed. “Biddy, my ass,” she laughed. “Now, if you want to call me a cougar, that’s a title I’ll take.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and raised her eyebrows. “Especially with the new guy in town.”
Beth gave her a mock scowl. “I think it’s against some sort of hotelier bylaw to hit on guests half your age.”
“Hey, that’s the best perk of the job!” LuAnn chortled.
Laughter then, all around. LuAnn circled off with her tray, and Beth excused herself, though not before squeezing my arm and offering another welcome to town, leaving Jason, Gil, and me to ourselves.