"Short of a posted ad, I won't ask how you're conducting your search," I said as I finished my meal.
"Strictly on a volunteer basis, I'll ask those to step forward…"
"And be fitted?" Josh asked.
"Start with the fellas on the porch. I'm sure they're not shy," I said as I stood to clear my dishes.
Both men laughed and followed me to the kitchen. Josh collected the plates and silverware for the dishwasher.
"Thank you for feeding me," I said to Josh.
"Pleasure was all mine. Tuesdays are tacos, Wednesdays are sub sandwiches, Thursdays are pizza, and Fridays are pot luck so plan accordingly," Josh said, stacking the pots and pans.
"Where to now? I'm waiting for a few clients to get back to me about website changes so I have some time to kill," Ryan said as he washed his hands in the sink.
"I'd like to buy food, but I'm afraid to plug in the fridge. Maybe it's broken or I'll get charged for the extra electricity surge to the house. I didn't think to pack a cooler," I said.
"You're on vacation and not supposed to cook. Let me figure out the food. I promise you won't starve," Ryan said.
"I'll pay you back," I promised.
He stepped right up to me and leaned close.
"I'd like your company, not your money," he whispered.
"Thanks." I tried to stop the blush but felt my cheeks heating up.
"See you tomorrow for tacos," Ryan said to the other men as he took my hand.
A solid yet light touch offered comfort and friendship. I liked Ishawa very, very much.
Ryan drove around the lake and talked about the residents, past and present.
"My grandparents were caretakers for the summer cottages for years. Mr. Chase's parents died when he was in college, and he inherited property. He'd come and sit on the beach or row around the lake. People invited him over and brought him food. A few times he set up an easel and painted. That was before the accident."
"What accident?"
"Mr. Chase's girlfriend drowned in the lake. It's forty feet down in the middle."
"How horrible." I peered out the window at the seemingly gentle water.
"'The whore next-door' is what my grandmother called Jane Baxter. Her parents owned a small diner with a soda fountain. She worked there, and all the wealthy kids would show up. She hated them. Mr. Chase fell in with a wild college crowd of kids from Illinois, and Jane's mom called the cops on them. Most were drunk and underage. Their parents came and got them. Mr. Chase consoled himself with Jane for a few weeks, but it didn't last. At the end of the summer, Mr. Chase came back with his fiancée, Amanda Wall." Ryan turned down a dirt road.
"One of the men mentioned I might bump into Amanda. How old is she?"
"Amanda drowned in the lake. She supposedly stole a boat from the dock at night, suicide or an accident, no one could tell. She was found with a huge bash to the forehead, but no damage to the boat. People say her ghost still hangs out by the lake." He pointed at the pier a few feet from the Chases' back door.
"Great, it won't be a raccoon scratching at the screen during the night. It'll be a zombie sorority girl in search of my brain."
"Drunken kids meet up with Amanda. Stay relatively sober, don't run along the beach after midnight, and you'll be fine." He eased the truck back up an embankment, back to the pavement.
"I didn't know ghosts came with a manual or schedule."
"Beer has an amazing ability to open the mind to possibilities."
I smiled to myself remembering the abandoned beer keg in the lake. An intimate beach party sounded fun. Ryan owned three unclaimed bikini tops, and I packed three pairs of shorts. Crazy thoughts filled my mind, must be all the unfiltered fresh air.
"What's funny?" he asked.
"For a small town, there are a lot of secrets."
"If you lived here any length of time, all would be revealed. Where was I? Oh yeah, Jane consoled Everett again, and they were married shortly thereafter. She pressured her hubby to finish law school. Ten years ago, she demanded he buy up any and all the lake property. Jane was determined to make this an exclusive wealthy enclave. At the time, my grandmother cleaned their house. Jane took to calling her 'Dirty Gertie.'"
"I hope your grandmother spit in her eye before she quit."
"And sprinkled sugar throughout the house to attract ants."
"Remind me to stay on your grandma's good side." I began to itch all over.
"She moved to Vegas and plays the slots. I doubt she gives Jane a thought, but appreciates the skyrocketing real estate costs. She sold her house and a few acres for quadruple the value. Jane only succeeded in driving up the costs, and the tanking economy pushed most of the new buyers out. Now, former residents' descendants are back and living in the big houses."
"Foreclosure, one man's loss is another's retaking of the neighborhood." I smiled as I looked out the window.
"Even money is on Caitlin to make this place her getaway."
"That doesn't sound like a good idea." I turned toward him.
"It's a Chase family tradition to host insane parties in that house. Aubrey set a record for 9-1-1 calls reporting public indecency one summer." He stated it as a known fact I could check on the internet.
"I refuse to ask how you would know such personal information."
"I told you, my grandmother cleaned the place for years. The well-to-do aren't shy and ignore the hired help. There are telltale signs, you know."
He was dying to list them, but I refused to take the bait. Note to self: If I ever win the lottery, continue to do my own laundry and incinerate the trash.
"My grandma also stole a mantel clock. I snuck in and returned it last year."
"How did you get in?"
"There was a cleaning service there so I followed a guy, put the clock down on the mantel, and left."
He parked in the Chases' driveway, got out, and opened my door.
"I'll be back around five, dress casual." He held out his hand to me.
"Where are we going?" I hopped down to the ground.
"You had hot dogs for lunch, so hamburgers for dinner. It keeps a nice balance in the system."
"Processed meat then real meat. Doesn't the chili count?"
"No, it was fresh from the can and served as a garnish. The four food groups around here are beer, sausage, cheese, and bread." He led me to the door.
"No salad or fruit?"
"Ice cream and fudge, possibly a chocolate dipped strawberry."
"My apologies to Chicago, but this sounds like my kind of town."
"We have to find better pizza and Italian beef sandwiches, but our culinary skills are up there," he said.
I opened the door and stood on the step.
"Definite holes in a true dining experience."
"Don't hold it against us." He smiled, as he trotted back to his truck.
CHAPTER FOUR
I decided to shower, sit on the deck in the shade, and read. Back in the half-shuttered house, I unpacked my clothing and set it on the coffee table. The bathroom was off of the kitchen and required precision movement to enter it while not bumping into the vanity. The shower stall was cut tight, and the door swung out. I realized I had to be to the left of it, otherwise I'd have to jump over the toilet to get in. I undressed, flipped on the water, and waited for it to warm up. After a few minutes, I realized the dial did nothing to increase the temperature. I dove into the freezing droplets and submitted myself to an ice bath. I dried off in record time, wrapped up in my robe, and hustled to the couch and my blanket.
After I thawed, I dressed in jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt. I broke my vow as I stepped outside and blessed the hot sun. The grass was soft under my feet, and I ventured to the sand. Bliss filled me as the water lapped at the shore. I dragged a lawn chair from the deck and sat, enjoying the quiet. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let my toes draw circles in the sand. In my dreamy state, I could be anywhere, peaceful, floating above the trees. I sailed on a calm blue se
a, the sun warmed my face, and Ryan guided the boat. His shirt slapped in the breeze, offering glimpses of sculpted chest. He smiled at me and cleared his throat. Did he say something? He coughed louder. Was he okay? I opened my eyes and noticed shadows around the lake.
"You've gone native and forgot sunscreen," Ryan said, standing over me.
I yelped and put my hand to my mouth. I felt hot skin and chapped lips.
Curse you, sun.
I ran past him and into the house to check my face in the bathroom mirror. Beefsteak tomato-red cheeks and nose with the bonus of assorted shades of pink dotted my chin and forehead. As I splashed cold water on my face, my grilled skin sizzled.
"I have some aloe gel at home. We can drive over there before dinner," Ryan said as he leaned in the doorframe.
"That's okay," I said as I dug through my toiletry kit. "I have moisturizer in here."
I found one crusted over tube and the rest of the mini bottles were hand lotion.
"Let me take you home and then we'll go eat," he said.
"I can't go out looking like this," I said as I pointed to my face.
He smiled and put out his hand to me. I took it and let him seep into my frazzled nerves endings.
"First, summer in Wisconsin means sunburned tourists. No one will notice or care. Second, I'm glad you were able to relax. Afternoon naps are the best. Last, I hate to eat dinner alone and you're the only one around. So let's grease up your face and get going."
How romantic. Who could resist such a polite invitation?
I climbed into his truck, and we headed to his house. The skinny lane followed the lake shore. I imagined a small bachelor cottage, but he pulled into the driveway of a replica of the Chases' mini-mansion. A large white house with red shutters surrounding the windows graced the beach. Rose bushes and flowerbeds surrounded a wraparound porch.
"The same architect did all the houses around the horseshoe of the lake. I bought this place at an auction four years ago. It's on the site of my family's original house," Ryan said as he opened my car door.
"It's stunning."
"It's a work in progress. I don't need all the space, but the price was too sweet to pass up. Want to see inside?"
"Absolutely," I said as I walked up the steps. "You do use the front door, right?"
"Only for special guests." He smiled as he produced his keys and opened the door.
The foyer's white walls were trimmed in rich woods. I roamed through the cozy living room Ryan had converted into an office to the family room. It had the same wall of windows and fireplace as the Chase house. His only pieces of furniture were an overstuffed couch, a massive television mounted on the wall, and a bookcase packed with DVDs and video games.
"Do you rent the place out as a movie theater?" I asked.
"Good idea, you can bring the popcorn maker. I like to be part of the action, not miss a bead of sweat or nuance in a scene." I continued my tour through the spotless kitchen. "I mostly eat out. The aloe is upstairs. You're welcome to continue the tour. I use the other rooms for storage."
"Thanks, I'm fine here."
My imagination had kicked up a notch, conjuring a view of the man cave's padded playground, aka Ryan's bed. I heard his footsteps above me and then back down the stairs.
"It's thick, but it works," he said as he handed me a plastic squeeze bottle.
I nodded and strolled to the powder room off the kitchen. I swabbed on two layers and coated my face. It seeped right in and cooled my parched skin.
"Better?" he asked when I stepped into the kitchen.
"Much, thank you," I said holding the bottle out to him.
"Keep it. You'll need the relief for a few more days."
I tucked it in my purse as we left the house.
Instead of heading toward the truck, Ryan hiked over to the pier. I followed him to where a tied-up canoe bobbed in the water.
"The restaurant sits on the beach and is accessible from the lake. I thought you might like to get there the old-fashioned way, and dusk is the best time to travel," he said, pointing to the boat.
"Sure."
Did I get seasick—or "lakesick"? I didn't know because I'd never traveled by lake before. I smiled through my trepidation as he settled me into the boat. It rocked in reaction to my fear.
Steady fella. I don't like you any more than you like me, but let's work together for Ryan, okay?
He got in, untied the rope, and pushed off from the pier. He angled the boat around and began to row. Facing him, I had the best view as his biceps flexed with each pull of the oar. I clutched the sides and pretended a murky death didn't lurk below my feet.
"There's a life vest behind you," he said.
"I'm fine." And too terrified to move.
Capsizing could happen at any moment, and I didn't want to waste my precious moments with him on boat safety instructions. The flow of the water over the oars fascinated me. I relaxed, as much as I could, and enjoyed the scenery. The sandy beach receded, and maple and oak trees filled the shoreline. The lake cut through a forest, throwing shade and shadows over the water. A cliff jutted out and towered over us.
"When I was a kid, this was the place to play in the summer. Stand on top of the cliff and dive in on a dare," he said.
"I'm sure you didn't make fun of someone who declined," I said as I dipped a tentative hand in the wake.
"Just until school started. This is the deepest point, forty-four feet, straight down."
I pulled my feet up on the bench and hugged my knees, trying to put more space between me and the cold, wet pit of doom.
"I'm sorry. Do you want me to turn back and get my truck?"
Yes!
"Of course not, this is amazing. I appreciate the tour." I hoped the pasted smile on my face seemed sincere.
"By the way, this is where Amanda's boat was found. I don't buy the theory about her being drunk and deciding to row out here. Why was she alone? Did she know how to handle a boat? There's got to be more to it. Anything involving the Chases is never what it seems on the surface."
No kidding.
We arrived at a dock with a busy restaurant on the beach. He maneuvered the canoe close, and another man offered me his hand. I was hauled up onto the pier, and Ryan appeared next to me. People called his name and waved. He acknowledged all and took my hand. The Shady Saloon did a volume business. The music blared out over speakers as he opened the door.
"Do you know how to polka?" he asked over the din.
"No, should I?"
"In Wisconsin, it's a requirement for high school graduation, that and accordion lessons."
"I'm adding both to my bucket list."
A familiar frowning woman leaned on the bar, jutting out her chest to all takers. I'd almost forgotten about the kill Joy. She slumped toward Ryan, and he winced in acknowledgment.
"I knew you'd come back," Joy said as she stood in front of Ryan.
"This place has the best burgers, and I promised one to Gretchen." He sidestepped her.
She leaned back, folded her arms over her pushed up and separated breasts, and surveyed me.
"Seriously, if you prefer lobster face to me…" she said, starting a tirade.
"He'd be better off. Now, Joy, you watch that sassy mouth or leave," an older woman said as she appeared with two menus.
Joy huffed and stomped away. A young guy, new to shaving and loaded up on body spray, trailed behind her. She perched herself on the barstool, and the guy leaned in to her. She caught my attention and hugged him.
"Saved by the summer camp counselor dropout," the woman said, leading us to a back booth.
"Gretchen Strom, meet Anna Marie Dwyer Jensen Murphy, owner of this fine establishment," Ryan said after he kissed the older woman's cheek.
"Pleased to meet you, call me Annie," she said as she plopped the menus on the table. "Joy's harmless, but ornery as a newly neutered tomcat."
"How would you know how a neutered animal feels?" he asked as he slid into the booth.
"Been married three times, divorced just as many, and close to making each one a eunuch. Plus I can relate to Joy toy, too. Hard on a gal when the guy she wants doesn't want her, although you got good taste," she said as she pointed at me. "Where you from, Gretchen?"
"Originally Minnesota, now I live in Chicago. I'm staying at the Chases' house."
"The foul winds and two of my exes blew in from the west and the south, but, for Ryan's sake, I'll reserve judgment," she said as she rested her hand on his shoulder. "Don't let Amanda scare you. She's still pining for that spineless Everett Chase. He should have listened to her and kept up with the painting, instead he married the moneygrubbing Jane. Enjoy your dinner." Annie headed back to the door to greet more guests.
Painting houses or people?
"Everyone around here has an opinion about Amanda and the Chases," he said.
"I'm beginning to understand why they avoid this town."
"Enough about the rich and infamous, you're here to be fed. I recommend the half pound cheddar burger with home fries or a beer grilled brat smothered in sauerkraut and onions."
"Both sound tempting."
I opted for the quarter pound burger with potato chips. Ryan scarfed down two brats, a basket of fried cheese curds, a third of my burger, and an order of fries.
Why did food metabolize as fat on me and muscle on him?
After a beer or two, maybe three, he led me onto the dance floor. My polka excursion entailed jumping and bumping into others. Ryan laughed at my feeble attempts at following his so-called lead. However, I didn't hurt myself or stomp on his foot. For me, this counted as a victory.
At midnight, we headed back to the boat, and I gingerly stepped in it. I wasn't drunk, just overly giddy in Ryan's presence. I sat on the bench, watching him position the oars in the water. He looked lonely so I scooted over and sat between his legs. Also the lake didn't seem as friendly in the dark. Visions of sharks and killer snakes lunging in and biting me made me tremble.
"Cold, little girl?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.
Not anymore, but I'm moving faster than normal.
"I'm probably in your way," I said as I began to ease myself back to my spot.
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