The Season of Silver Linings (A Sweet Lake Novel Book 3)

by Christine Nolfi

  The objection didn’t blot out Linnie’s enthusiasm. “Charlene Frieze?” she guessed, caught up in the game. “They dated in high school for at least ten minutes. You remember the phase when Philip went after most of the girls on the debate team? Mr. Hot Body sure knew how to get around. I heard Charlene’s divorce has finalized. Her boys are mud monsters, but Fancy can learn to bend.”

  Cat joined them in the surf. “You’re way off base, Linnie. He’s not interested in Charlene.”

  “Who, then?”

  Heat crept up Jada’s neck. “There’s a strong possibility Philip is interested in me.”

  Silence fell between them as Linnie studied her with incomprehension. A fair enough reaction. Jada had veered from silent dislike of Philip in the way-back-when to the recent induction as Johnny-on-the-spot with babysitting help and food delivery. As if Jada had become a helpful relative. Imagining them together undoubtedly struck Linnie as one degree short of incest.

  Cat, more attuned to matters of the heart, planted her sympathetic gaze on Jada. She seemed capable of reading the flurry of emotion tumbling through Jada—excitement and fear, uncertainty and regret. And happiness at the memory of Philip throwing caution to the wind and taking her into his arms. None of her more rational objections were capable of dispelling the feather-light emotion.

  Cat said, “Did something happen between you and Philip?”

  “Last week,” Jada supplied. “I went over to help Fancy choose her outfit for the wedding. Or at least I tried to help her—the munchkin never did make a decision. After we put her to bed, we went outside.” The memory of the longing in Philip’s eyes spread heat across her skin. “We were joking around. Then everything became serious—I’m not sure how it happened—and he kissed me.”

  The news puffed up Linnie’s cheeks and made her look like a blowfish. “Wow. You and Philip. I didn’t see that coming.”

  Cat snorted. “Linnie, you’ve been obsessed with your wedding. You wouldn’t see a train coming if you were on the tracks.”

  “Hey! I wasn’t prepared for this.”

  “You’re not the only one who isn’t prepared—look at Jada. She can’t decide if she’s happy or worried about this new development.”

  The observation sent Linnie’s careful regard to Jada. “What’s the verdict? Give us a hint.”

  “I’m not sure. It happened so fast. I mean, there has been something going on for months, an undercurrent to our conversations, and the way we’ve been acting around each other—too many long glances. Too many evenings spent watching TV or sharing a bottle of wine after we’ve put Fancy to bed.”

  “Like an old married couple.” Linnie smiled, clearly pleased. “You even get the sweet tot without having to endure labor.”

  “Back to joking? Don’t make me hit you.”

  “Well, it sounds promising.”

  Promising and confusing. She’d been his late wife’s only real friend in Sweet Lake. Embarking on a romance with Bodi’s husband seemed a breach on an unspoken pact between women. There was also Fancy to consider.

  Now Philip had taken her completely off guard. He’d erased all her assumptions about their relationship with one bold act and the heat of his lips.

  “I didn’t give much thought to just how much time we’ve been spending together,” she said. “Like we’ve accidently thrown together a makeshift family because the wedding is coming up, and we’re both helping out. I assumed everything would go back to normal after the wedding. We wouldn’t be hanging around together as much.”

  Gently, Cat asked, “How did you react when Philip kissed you?”

  “I was totally into it,” Jada admitted, sprinting past humiliation to give a full accounting. The scales of her relationship with Cat and Linnie had always tipped in her direction. If they got into a fix, she weighed the problem carefully and proposed a way out. Now she needed them both as a sounding board. “I almost felt like I’d been waiting my whole life for Philip to take our relationship and turn it on its head. Which is nuts. For most of our lives, I thought he was a hot mess. He thought I was too uptight.”

  “Your opinion, not his,” Cat said confidently. “Philip had a thing for you way back in high school.”

  Linnie tilted her head back and gave Cat an odd look. “Philip liked Jada back then?” Linnie asked. “No way. He dated more girls than I can count. If he’d been into Jada, I would’ve caught on. Cat, is this your imagination talking?”

  “Not even close. Philip went on the prowl because Jada didn’t notice him. At least not in the way he wanted. He never would’ve chased all those girls if he could’ve had the one he wanted.”

  Skepticism drummed through Linnie’s voice. “Give me a break. If Philip loved anyone in high school, it was the stud staring back at him in the mirror.”

  “You’re wrong. Opposites attract. He would’ve tried harder to win Jada if he’d thought there was a chance. He knew the score. She never would’ve viewed him as boyfriend material.”

  “Because he was flaky,” Jada murmured. Exactly what she’d told Fancy, right before the precocious six-year-old clued her in on Philip’s viewing habits.

  “My point exactly,” Linnie said. “You’re only attracted to serious guys. Sadly enough, all the heartbreak Philip went through with Bodi has turned him into one of those guys. Some people get hurt by a bad marriage and become bitter. Not Philip. The bad times brought out the best in him. They turned him into a great dad and a hardworking man.”

  Considering, Jada sank her toes into the wet sand. Linnie was correct—the trials Philip had overcome had burnished his character. He became stable and caring when Bodi went off the rails, leaving him the sole parent of his sweet daughter. And Cat’s observations dovetailed with Philip’s admission last week on why he’d aimed a hundred paper airplanes at Jada’s wild curls—an immature ploy she now viewed in an entirely different light.

  He’d been aiming at her heart.

  The confusion rippling across her features prodded Linnie to say, “I can’t tell if you’re happy or scared about the change in your relationship. From where I’m standing, having my maid of honor fall for my brother-in-law is fantastic. Both of you have been stuck in the monastery long enough. Who knows? Maybe last week’s hot kiss will lead to something better.”

  “I’m not sure dating Philip is a great idea,” Jada said.

  “Has he asked you out?”

  Guilt pulled Jada’s attention to her feet, sinking into the sand beneath the rippling surf. “I’ve been dodging him,” she admitted. “Pretending I’m too busy to talk on the phone, too buried at work to stop over. Bad excuses, but he’s playing along.”

  She lifted her shoulders to her ears, the same way Linnie did when confronted with difficult choices. The gesture used to amuse Jada, how it indicated Linnie’s inability to face a challenge. No longer.

  “When Philip kissed me, he uncorked this passion between us. Red hot, and totally out of control. I can’t see him until I’m sure how I feel.”

  Cat smirked. “I’m guessing you’re feeling hot and bothered.”

  “This isn’t funny, Cat. I’m not like you. I don’t leap before I think.”

  “I’m intrepid. You should try it.”

  Great advice—for someone unconcerned with the consequences.

  “Hey, I’m no prude,” Jada insisted. “I’ve felt passionately about several of the men I’ve dated, but nothing like this. Nothing like this need stalking me whenever I make the mistake of allowing Philip into my thoughts. When you begin dating someone you’ve known forever—even someone you thought you disliked—all that familiarity is dangerous. It’s easy to skip past the getting-to-know-you stage and dive in too deep. I’m afraid if Philip takes me in his arms again, we’ll go straight from heavy necking to intimacy. I’m worried we’ll make the leap without stopping to consider if we should.”

  A dreamy sigh coasted from Linnie’s mouth. “Kettering men,” she murmured, hugging herself. “They know the moves. T
he first time I kissed Daniel? He literally swept me off my feet. He backed me up against his kitchen counter and kissed me senseless. Then he ordered me to go home. If he hadn’t, we would’ve made love on his kitchen floor.”

  A visual of uncontrolled passion wasn’t a great antidote for what ailed Jada. Not when simply thinking about Philip made her feverish.

  “Thanks for sharing,” she grumbled. “What if I can’t trust myself around Philip? I don’t want our relationship to change.”

  “Why not?”

  “Gosh, let’s see. What if we date for a few months, and everything fizzles? It’s not like we can go back to the way things were.”

  “Don’t ignore the better option. What if everything works out?”

  “I’m not a gambler. I value the friendship I’ve struck up with Philip. I don’t want to lose it. And what about Fancy? I adore her. We’ve become awfully close. If I start seeing her father and it doesn’t work out, how will she feel?”

  “Bad,” Linnie supplied. With a frown, she added, “You do have a point.”

  “Millicent, what’s going on? You’re wheezing.”

  The call was poorly timed, but not unexpected. Millicent was accustomed to Vasily calling on a daily basis for updates. The doctoral student she’d left holding down the fort in Chicago treated her excursion to Ohio like his favorite episodes of reality TV.

  “I don’t wheeze, and I don’t have asthma,” she barked into her cell phone. The arches of her feet hurt like the dickens, a fact she chose not to share. She really was out of shape. “I’m winded.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Millicent spotted a car ascending the road toward the inn. She trotted into the tall grass at the berm. The car whizzed past.

  “Vasily, when I hired you, where in the job description did you misinterpret houseboy duties to involve hounding me to death?” A bee lifted out of the grass, and she waved it away. “You’re my servant, not my son. How can a man with your level of education be so obtuse?”

  “Don’t go medieval on me. You’re breathing hard. I doubt you’re having sex, which leaves the unhappy prospect you may be having a heart attack. What are you doing?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. There’s nothing wrong with my ticker.” She resumed her trek down the steep incline. “I’m walking into town, if you must know. I’ve been cooped up at the inn for a week.”

  “How far of a walk?”

  She peered back at the Wayfair, perched high upon the road. “Too far,” she grumbled. “Half a mile? Or more.” Thankfully, the edge of town was in sight.

  “You’ve left the inn to . . . look around?”

  “Why do you have an emotional investment in the day-to-day operations? If there’s anything worth reporting, I will let you know. Although I’m not sure why I should. But, yes, I’m taking a stroll through town. I’m here. I might as well look around.”

  “There’s a chance you’ll find something?”

  “Doubtful. It has been a long time.” Millicent walked on, despising the small threads of hope spinning through her. Even the dismal odds weren’t enough to dull her natural optimism. Which hastened her to add, “I am convinced I’m on the right trail. All of the pieces fit.”

  “I knew it! You’ve found another clue? What is it? Something Jada mentioned during a baking lesson?”

  The barrage of questions pinged against her eardrum as she took stock of her surroundings. The quaint nexus of the town brimmed with flowerpots set out before small shops. Further off, trees unfurling spring leaves sheltered the center green. Picnic tables were scattered across the grass. On the opposite side of the circle, the brick buildings were shuttered. Closer to where Millicent stood, she noted a drugstore, a beauty salon, and the two businesses owned by the Kettering brothers—Unity Design Landscaping and the law firm owned by Linnie Wayfair’s fiancé.

  “Millicent? Are you there?”

  She ducked into the alleyway before the Kettering building. “There’s nothing to report,” she insisted.

  “Nothing at all?”

  “The town certainly fits the description. Same with the Wayfair. I’m sure it’s the right inn.” Steeling herself, she asked, “How is everything at home?”

  The query seemed to dampen Vasily’s mood. “Not good,” he said, lowering his voice. “If you’re still thinking about flying us to Ohio, reconsider. You’ll need to fly home first. Do some big-time lobbying.”

  The prospect of returning to Illinois after making progress was discouraging. “Vasily, you have three college degrees and the eloquence of the original serpent. Can’t you do the lobbying? Make it clear I’ve found good leads, the best I’ve ever stumbled across?”

  “I’ve tried—repeatedly.”

  “Try harder!”

  The command brought a discouraged sigh across the line. “It’s no use. I’m getting nowhere. Your marriage, your problem. Come home and state the case personally.”

  “Fine,” she agreed. Unexpected guilt jolted her. Debating with her spouse had never been Vasily’s responsibility. It was unfair to presume he’d succeed. “I’ll fly back to Chicago once I’m fully convinced. In a few days. Or a bit longer.”

  “What’s the holdup?”

  “I haven’t confronted Jada yet.”

  “Millicent, you aren’t preparing to do battle. You’re merely asking for information. She may welcome the chance to tell you everything. Why wait?”

  Leaning against the building’s cool brick, she closed her eyes. The question had dogged her all week. During each morning’s baking lesson, she sensed Jada’s trust in her growing. Their conversations, once stilted and wary, now flowed easily. Tender the most important question now, and there was every likelihood she’d gain the information she craved.

  Why not ask?

  Sharing the truth made her feel weak, and Millicent hated acknowledging her failings. “I haven’t found the courage to ask,” she admitted, stepping out from her hiding place in the alley. She marched past the Kettering building. “This isn’t like the other times. From the moment I met Jada Brooks, it seemed obvious she was the woman I’d been seeking. Now I’m afraid of what she’ll tell me.”

  “Ignore the second thoughts. Follow through. Jada will help you bring this sorry chapter in your life to a close.”

  “I believe she will.”

  “Don’t you want this to end?”

  “What an absurd question. Who likes shelling out money for private detectives, and jumping on planes to follow clues? Vasily, I want to stop waking up at night and worrying myself sick. I want to heal the wounds in my marriage. I want this to end—happily. With tears of joy.”

  “It might.”

  Pausing at the intersection, she stared blankly at the curb. “What if my plans go awry?”

  “Stay focused on the facts, difficult though they are. There’s no telling how this will play out. Your efforts may not bear fruit.”

  “Exactly my fear. What if all I bring back to Chicago is news that won’t heal my family? News that will only bring more sorrow and disappointment?”

  The words came out needy and soft, like the bitter confession of an old woman incapable of erasing the mistakes of the past. Or the utterance of a child desperate for reassurance the world wasn’t brutal and harsh, and that everything works out in the end. Yet another sign of weakness, and Vasily took his time responding.

  When he did, his tone sheltered her with compassion. “You’re under no obligation to carry on with this,” he said, and Millicent wondered at his empathy, how easily he donned the best qualities of manhood despite his youth. “No one will think less of you for letting this go. You’ve invested years in the search. Your perseverance is admirable, regardless of the outcome. In fact, if you drop this, I won’t be the only one to feel a measure of relief.”

  Tears of frustration burned at her lashes. “I can’t let this go.”

  “Then you have your answer. Find the courage to speak with Jada.”

  From the center gr
een of Sweet Lake Circle, someone called out to her. Finishing the call, she tucked the phone in her purse.

  Four of the Sweet Lake Sirens were clustered around a picnic table. Silvia Mendoza sat behind a laptop with Frances Dufour at her elbow. A catalog lay between the blunt Ruth Kenefsky and her much sleeker counterpart, Norah Webb. They were leafing through the catalog’s pages while bickering.

  Frances shushed them. “Millicent, how nice to see you.” She patted the picnic bench. “Won’t you join us?”

  “Thank you, but I can’t stay long. It’s a beautiful day for a walk.” Ridiculously, she harbored the absurd notion that another clue awaited if only she looked hard enough. She glanced from the laptop to the catalog. “What are you doing?”

  “Discussing the wedding favors for Linnie’s wedding,” Frances told her.

  During the baking lessons, Jada frequently mentioned the upcoming nuptials. “I understand Linnie will marry next month?”

  “The last Saturday in April.”

  Ruth looked up from the catalog. “She’s getting hitched, but not without fussing over every detail. The girl has enough nervous energy to see a woman through ten catastrophes. She can’t do anything without fretting half to death.”

  “Is there any doubt she’ll follow through?” Millicent’s interactions with the owner of the Wayfair were infrequent.

  Frances reached for her purse. “Oh, she’ll marry. She’s madly in love with Daniel.”

  Producing a handkerchief, the elderly Siren patted her brow. Evidently Linnie’s ability to stay the course was a cause of some concern.

  “I’ve met the groom’s brother,” Millicent offered. “He’s doing fine work on the patio installation for the inn.” From what Millicent had seen on her strolls around the Wayfair’s grounds, work on the patio was progressing apace.

  “Not today he isn’t,” Frances said.

  “There’s a problem?”

  “With the sandstone Philip ordered. Most of the stone in one of the pallets is cracked. His supplier isn’t sure when the new shipment will arrive. Work on the patio may not resume until the first week of April.”