The Billionaire's Mermaid

by Amberlee Day

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you’d figure it out,” he said, clearly impressed. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

  Cleo felt proud of her accomplishment, and she smiled. “I actually grew up on the water—literally—but never on frozen water.”

  “Literally? What, like a boat?”

  Cleo nodded. “My grandparents lived on a boat in Tampa. There were exactly four things to do: Play solitaire, watch old VHS tapes, read, and swim with the other boat kids. I spent most of my time in the water.”

  “No wonder you became a mermaid,” Van said. “You were practically born into it.”

  Cleo didn’t offer any more details. If Van wanted to know more about her life, it could wait until their dinner tomorrow. “Lily looks like she’s getting tired,” Cleo pointed out.

  “She is. I hadn’t anticipated her getting so worn out during mermaid lessons today, or I would have planned an earlier evening.”

  “What can I say?” Cleo shrugged. “Mermaiding is hard work.”

  Van studied her for a moment. She realized that at the moment he wasn’t being flirty, angry, or even talking history. She liked it, and that thought of wanting to know more about him bubbled up in her again.

  “Well,” Van said, “I hope Lily and her mermaid have energy for one more birthday celebration.”

  “Does it involve ice skates? My ankles have had about enough for one day.”

  Lily caught up to them just then. She looked worn out, but not about to admit it. “It’s not time to go already, is it? I’m not tired.”

  “No, not yet. But I thought maybe we’d ditch the skates and get some hot chocolate,” Van said. “What do you say?”

  Lily had good things to say about that. She grabbed both Cleo's and Van’s hands and led the way to take off their skates, chatting happily about how the best hot cocoa was milk chocolate with cinnamon, and gobs of whipped cream on top.

  Van switched from skates back to snow boots quickly, and excused himself to make a phone call while the ladies finished getting ready.

  “He’s always like that,” Lily said knowingly. “Always on the phone, doing business.”

  “If he’s that busy, it’s nice he’s spending the evening with you,” Cleo said, stifling a yawn. The long day had caught up with her, too.

  “He kind of has to,” Lily said, yawning as well. “It’s not like I have anybody else to be with on my birthday.”

  Cleo frowned. “Are there many other children who live full-time at Lake Louise, Lily?”

  “Probably. Did you see that girl with the yellow skates and jacket? Her name is Michelle. Yellow’s her favorite color. I see her here sometimes. She showed me how to do pirouettes before.”

  “You mean that teenage girl? She must be a lot older than you.”

  Lily didn’t answer right away. “I don’t think you have to be the same age to have a friend, do you?”

  “No,” Cleo said, feeling uncomfortable about Lily’s lack of friends, and wondering why it was that way. “I guess not.”

  Van returned just then. “Are you ready? Let’s get moving. We need to order our hot chocolate and get settled.”

  “Why?” Lily asked. “I can see the campfire from here. There’re plenty of places to sit.”

  “It’s getting late,” Van said with a blend of parental authority and subtle teasing that appeared to go over Lily’s head. To Cleo, he winked. “Birthday or not, we need to get you to bed soon. Mermaids need their beauty sleep.”

  “Nah-uh,” Lily said. “Mermaids are always beautiful. Like Cleo. She’s almost the prettiest mermaid at mermaid camp.”

  While Lily’s attention stayed on putting on her snow boots, Van gave Cleo that seducer look. “Almost the prettiest, huh?”

  “Well,” Lily explained, “if she was a pink mermaid, she’d be the prettiest one. Pink mermaids are the best.”

  Cleo hoped that her tan and the low lights hid her blush. Lily’s comment didn’t faze her, but that look in Van Rivers’s eyes ...

  “Lily’s decided on a pink tail, so she’ll be the prettiest of all,” Cleo said quickly. “And she’s already working hard to learn the moves, so she’ll be a strong mermaid, as well. That’s what makes the best mermaid.”

  Lily yawned, then hopped up from changing her footwear. “Okay, let’s get hot chocolate.”

  Van chuckled. “Let’s see if we can keep things interesting long enough for you to stay awake and finish it.”

  “I’m not tired,” Lily said again, but she couldn’t hide a third yawn.

  It wasn’t long before all three held warm mugs of steaming hot chocolate and whipped cream. Van settled them down in spots next to the fire, facing the lake.

  A hotel employee manning the fire greeted them. “Having a good evening, Mr. Rivers?”

  “Yes, it’s a beautiful night, Kyle. Thank you. The fire’s perfect.”

  Other guests sat in pairs or small groups, talking and laughing, but Cleo, Van, and Lily settled into quiet enjoyment of the fire and warm drinks.

  They’d only been at the campfire a few minutes when a whistling noise made everyone stop and look up. From a distant spot around the lake, a faint streak of light rose in the night sky. As Cleo shook herself from her comfortable haze, wondering where the light had come from, it suddenly burst open into a widening circle of bright pink and purple.

  Skaters across the lake and the group around the campfire exclaimed in delight.

  “Fireworks!” Lily exclaimed, her eyes bright with the reflecting lights. A second streak flew into the air and exploded, followed quickly by a third. “Uncle Van?”

  Cleo had seen so much that was new to her today, but the satisfied look in Van’s eyes still surprised her.

  “Happy birthday, Lily Bean,” he said.

  Lily put down her mug and gave her uncle an enthusiastic hug, which told Cleo more about the relationship between these two than anything else that day. When Lily sat back down to enjoy her fireworks, Cleo caught Van’s eyes.

  “Was that really you ...?” she quietly asked.

  He just shrugged, and answered with an equally low voice. “A girl doesn’t turn ten every day, does she?”

  Oohs and ahs issued from around the lake, the tourists unaware that the little blonde girl in the puffy pink coat was the reason they were all treated to fireworks in late January. Cleo felt like she was in a dream. Who was this Van Rivers, anyway? She’d have to Google him, see what came up. Whatever she found online, she was pretty sure she’d still have a lot of questions about this man who really did know what a ten-year-old girl would want for her birthday, and who gave Cleo looks that made her melt like the whipped cream in her cinnamon hot cocoa.

  Chapter 12

  Once again, Cleo was lost in Van Rivers’s house. She should have just made her way to the library via the back staircase and kitchen, the path she’d taken with Mrs. Fortney that first morning when she wore only her mermaid costume. She’d grown in confidence over the last few days, and thought she could make her way to the grand staircase and down into the front hall. No such luck.

  It didn’t help that she was bone tired. While she was used to working out in the pool for many hours each day, something about this place wore her out. It was probably something to do with getting used to the higher altitude, as she’d spent most of her life at sea level. She yawned, but shook it off.

  Really, she needed to press Mrs. Fortney for a map. The number of doors she’d passed was more than she would have expected. How many rooms did this old place have, anyway? Unless she was walking in circles and passing her own room somehow, at least ten bedrooms lay in this section of the house.

  When she came to a door that opened outward instead of in, she decided to see what lay behind it. Bingo! Another passageway, this one wider with more ornate decor. Probably the guest wing, she assumed. It made sense that she’d been placed in the part of the house reserved for children and servants, not that there were many of either.


  Her interview dinner—which she could swear Van almost called a date—had been postponed to tonight. He’d sought her out in the pool the afternoon after Lily’s birthday with apologies that he suddenly needed to be out of town for a couple of days. Looking up from the pool, Van standing with shoulders square and a slight frown on his face, she had tried to see what he was thinking. It could have been concern that he was leaving Lily in the house with a stranger, someone who could be a bad influence on her. He was clearly concerned about bad influences. Or was there something else in his look, something more personal? It was ridiculous, but that’s what she hoped it was. The idea of being in the big house with Van gone had a lonely feeling, which was strange considering she barely knew him. But if there was one feeling Cleo had gotten used to recognizing, it was loneliness.

  Besides mermaid lessons, she’d spent the last few days helping Lily order a reasonably priced pink tail with purple and blue highlights—nothing too fancy, as Lily would just be growing out of it—ordering herself some winter clothes to keep her warm during her Canada stay, and reading up about Banff National Park and Lake Louise. She’d learned quite a bit from Van at the train car restaurant. He’d inherited a knowledge of local history, as his family had been in the area ever since the train station had been built, over a hundred years ago. Cleo couldn’t imagine knowing so much about her family history, and loved hearing him talk of long-ago stories from the Canadian wilderness.

  She hadn’t seen Van since he’d returned to Eagle Hill, though Mrs. Fortney had mentioned talking to him, so he must be home. Cleo felt nervous and excited to see him again. Her new clothes hadn’t arrived yet, so she wore a summery maxi dress with one of her sweaters on top and her yoga pants underneath. It was hard to stay warm in the vast house. She’d pulled her hair up high into what she called her genie ponytail, a style she often wore with her mermaid costume. It was dressier than normal, but she hoped didn’t look like she was trying too hard.

  The hallway eventually rounded a corner, and she congratulated herself for finally reaching the grand main stairway. She stopped to admire what must surely be the house’s showcase. With masculine angles, exposed wooden rafters joined by ornately detailed ceilings, and for some reason moose antlers decorating the walls next to ancient Rivers family portraits, everything worked together to make her think of Van. Woodsy yet refined, commanding but not showy, straightforward rather than meandering. Cleo couldn’t help but wonder whether Van mirrored the house, or it mirrored him.

  She ran her hand down the wide wooden railing as she descended the staircase, and the rich history of the house filled her with romance. Not that she knew many specifics, but the very atmosphere in that old place spoke of generations having lived in those walls. She hoped Van would tell her more stories at their dinner.

  It took a few tries to find the library door, and when she did, she was greeted with an impatient growl.

  “Come in. You’re late.”

  Cleo bristled. She couldn’t even see Van yet, and the complicated man was already pushing her buttons. In fact, she couldn’t see much, with only the firelight and a corner lamp to fight the early winter darkness.

  Is he trying to intimidate me? It’s not going to work.

  Running her hand along the wall, she located a light switch. Instantly, the library flooded with enough bright light for a room full of readers. All she managed to reveal, however, was Van Rivers, sunk down in a high-backed chair, one hand covering his eyes.

  “Oh, good,” he said, more than a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “You’ve found the lights.”

  Cleo entered the room, feeling less railroaded. “I don’t see any reason to hide in the dark. Is that how you conduct all your business meetings?”

  Van came out from behind his hand, glaring at the bright room. “Only the ones involving attractive mermaids.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She congratulated herself on taking the upper hand, and sat down in a seat opposite Van. Samson lay on the floor by the fire, looking just as he had her first day in the library, like a dark rug. “Your dog certainly doesn’t seem to need a lot of exercise. I don’t think I ever see him anywhere else in the house.”

  Van sat up taller, a little gingerly, Cleo noticed. When his eyes met hers for the first time since she’d entered the room, she felt that thrill move over her, even stronger than her first day at Eagle Hill. He felt it too, she could see it on his face, and her heart skipped a beat in response. “There was a day,” he said, “when Samson ran through this house like a two-hundred-pound torpedo.”

  “Two hundred pounds? Surely he’s not that heavy.”

  “Not anymore, no. And I may be exaggerating a little, but you definitely didn’t want to be in his path when he was feeling rambunctious. Especially not on the stairway.”

  “No, I bet you didn’t.” For a moment, Cleo felt the confusing pleasure of Van’s scrutiny. While there was undoubtedly attraction between them, she would have given all the fish in Lake Louise to know what he was thinking. Hm. “Are there fish in Lake Louise?” she asked, suddenly curious.

  Van blinked. “Yes, there are some species that survive the winter freeze. Why do you ask? Do you fish?”

  “I do. My grandfather taught me. But I was just thinking about ice skating on Lily’s birthday, and I wondered if anything could live through that cold. Thank you for including me that night, by the way. You really hit the jackpot with the fireworks. She loved it.”

  “I’m glad you were with us, Cleo.”

  Deflecting another awkward, electric pause, she prompted, “You had some questions for me? An interview?”

  “Yes, I did. Actually—”

  The rear library door opened just then, and Mrs. Fortney entered, pulling a cart behind her. “Ah, good. You have the lights on. I hope that means your headache’s gone. Good evening, Cleo.”

  Cleo’s gaze shot back to Van. “You had a headache?”

  Mrs. Fortney answered for him. “Yes, overseas travel does that to him, poor man. Nothing but rest and a dark room will help. Do you want me to serve the plates, Mr. Rivers, or can you manage?”

  “It’s all right, we’ve got it. Thank you, Mrs. Fortney.”

  The housekeeper left them almost as quickly as she’d arrived.

  Cleo bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you had a headache.”

  “No, you assumed I was being a seducer at best, a lech at worst.”

  “No, not really. Just a control freak,” she said honestly. “Is it really gone?”

  Van laughed, though not as loudly as she’d heard him before. “A control freak! I guess I deserve that, although I think I was on my best behavior the other night. I know I let my temper get the best of me sometimes, like yelling when Samson broke that vase. And yes, the headache’s gone. Or mostly. I think whatever Mrs. Fortney brought on that tray will help with what remains. Shall we?”

  What Mrs. Fortney brought turned out to be baked macaroni and cheese, steamed broccoli, and a salad of spinach, pears, and pecans. Cleo breathed in the heavenly aromas. Wanting to make amends for the lights faux pas, she moved to dish up their plates. Van, however, insisted that as the host, the honor was his.

  “Unless that’s too controlling?” he said. “Apparently I haven’t acted like enough of a gentleman. I insist you let me serve you. Sorry, make that a request. I promise, I can do better.”

  Cleo blushed. “You do just fine. I don’t know what I was thinking. It just surprised me when the lights were out.”

  Van nodded. “I don’t blame you.”

  “Mrs. Fortney’s an amazing cook,” she said, after they’d both had a chance to sample all the dishes. “Do you have company here often? Her talents deserve to be shared.”

  “Oh, they’re shared, all right. Mrs. Fortney’s cooking is a favorite in the province. You never know who will stop in hoping to be invited for dinner.”

  “I can’t imagine you get too many people dropping by unexpectedly, living in such an
isolated spot.”

  “I suppose it’s strange, but we do. Despite our best efforts to keep to ourselves, even in the winter we have a lot of visitors here. Friends, of course. Not so many wandering snowshoers, although I’m sure even those Mrs. F. would bring into the kitchen and feed.”

  “I imagine she would,” Cleo said. “She has an uncanny knack of knowing whenever I’m hungry or need something. I feel spoiled.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, and not surprised.”

  “So where overseas were you coming from, if I can ask?”

  “Switzerland. There’s a resort there I was told would make a good investment, but ...” Van shook his head.

  “Is that what you do? Invest in businesses?” Cleo had done as she planned. Mrs. Fortney had helped her connect to Wi-Fi, and she Googled Van, though she wasn’t about to admit to it. He was, as he’d indicated, one of the richest men in Canada. He was also head of several companies, but she couldn’t grasp just what it was they did.

  “Global real estate’s our biggest focus,” Van said.

  “And you’re always on the lookout for big moneymakers?”

  “Yes, but we have smaller investments, too. We often put money into minor tourism markets.”

  “Big fish in a little pond? Seems like that sort of saps all the money from local ma-and-pa places. Or is that one of those things you can’t worry about in business?”

  “Do you mean we should be careful to never put someone else out of business as we go about our own?” Van asked.

  Cleo shrugged. “I’m not a businessman. I don’t pretend to know how it works, or how to succeed. I imagine putting up a large hotel that shuts down the smaller ones will still bring jobs to the area. That’s reality, isn’t it?”

  “It is. People don’t often see it that way, but it’s the truth. It’s also true that in some areas we have gone in and infused cash and marketing assistance to a place with potential that just needed a step up. If it turns into a loss, we get a tax break. But more often than not, we spread goodwill and get to sleep better at night.”