But as with all good things, the weekend flew by, and Sunday night arrived too soon for both of them. Reluctantly, Sara packed her bag, dreading the week ahead. It seemed an almost insurmountable hurdle.
“Are you sure you want to go back in there?” David asked when he dropped her off.
The lodge loomed dark against the sky.
“No. But I think I’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure Lauren wants me to solve this. I have to solve it, for Bailey, at least. If I steer clear of her husband, Lauren won’t hurt me. I think.”
“That Preston better steer clear of you,” he grumbled. “Otherwise he’ll be the one in trouble.”
Sara gave David a long kiss. “I’ll make sure to tell him.” She stumbled out of the car on her crutches. After one last wave to David, she let herself in with her key.
Still floating on clouds from the last two days, she entered the hallway, finding it not nearly as daunting as usual. When she entered the kitchen to grab a bedtime snack, she bumped into a fuming Ruth and an equally annoyed Preston.
“Glad you made it back,” Ruth said, her tone snippy.
“Excuse me?” Sara was taken aback. “Am I late for something?”
“No, you’re fine,” Preston said. “Ruth’s just upset. Nick didn’t show for her pick-up. He’s not answering his phone, either. Ruth drove herself back here.”
“Oh—what’s happened to him?”
“We can’t reach him, but when he picks up his damn phone, I’ll be sure to ask him, Miss Genius,” Ruth spat.
“Calm down, Ruth. It’s inconvenient, but everything worked out. You got here okay. Maybe he’s sick or had an accident. I’ll make some calls.” Preston whipped his phone out of his back pocket and walked out.
Sara grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, not particularly interested in Nick’s whereabouts. Biting off a big chunk, she turned to Ruth. “Why didn’t you just stay in Seattle? Preston could’ve driven up tomorrow.”
Ruth’s expression was scathing. “That would be inconvenient for him. Besides, if Nick’s not here, who’s going to stay with you? I didn’t want Preston to feel pressured to leave Bailey alone.”
“How thoughtful of you. But I think Bailey and I can manage. Nick hasn’t been much help.”
“Whatever. I always knew that man was unreliable,” Ruth huffed and ran after Preston, leaving Sara alone in the kitchen. A little flummoxed by all the drama, Sara went upstairs, stopping by Bailey’s room to say hi. She found the girl engrossed in her Xbox game and not particularly communicative.
There’s nothing quite like the feeling that you’ve been missed, she thought. Not that she had missed them much. Her weekend away had been amazing, and she didn’t want to let anyone spoil that. As for Nick, a few more days without him wouldn’t be the worst. She wasn’t really worried about his welfare; after all, he kept a big gun strapped to his chest everywhere he went. When he was good and ready, he would probably crawl out of whatever hole he had wormed himself into over the weekend. Or maybe he had decided to change careers—switch the gun for an apron. Frankly, she thought, that might make him a happier man. Maybe she’d suggest it when he got back.
Chapter 18
The next few days went by without much interference; all the inhabitants of Sinclair Lodge, both dead and alive, kept a low profile. Sara had no new dreams, just repeats of the old ones, and none of them involved guns. Bailey was being mostly pleasant, and Preston and Ruth were consumed with work and the enigma of Nick’s disappearance. The police had located the car, but there was no sign of the driver anywhere.
Nick’s absence was disturbing. It wasn’t that Sara worried about him, but the abruptness of his leaving was odd. He had a well-paid job and a decent working relationship with Preston, as far as she could tell. Why leave that behind without so much as a word? And given the fact that she knew Lauren had been killed, it did raise the question: why was Nick hiding? It was all rather suspicious.
Since they were down a driver, Preston had arranged for a small plane to take him to Seattle when he needed to go there. Unlike Ruth, he had no second thoughts about leaving Bailey behind with Sara. The plane would allow him to get back on a relatively short notice. Sara couldn’t help but think this was cool, even if it was a little outrageous—but Preston did not share her excitement. As it turned out, he was afraid of flying. Sara now understood why he was so passionate about having a driver.
Ruth was in a particularly foul mood since Nick’s absence. Yes, he had stood her up, but Sara suspected that wasn’t the only reason she was mad. With Nick gone, it meant the end of cozy car rides with Preston—those hours of one-on-one attention in a relaxed setting that had been whisked away from Ruth. The plane was loud and made Preston surly, neither of which encouraged great conversation. Despite her dislike of Ruth, Sara felt a little sorry for her. She wasn’t so lucky when it came to her love life. And with Sara on cloud nine, the deprivation seemed even more cruel than usual.
Sara had been trying to avoid the bitter woman, but one morning, while she was having her first cup of coffee, Ruth cornered her in the kitchen. Instead of sitting down, Ruth stayed standing, forcing Sara to look up at her.
“You’ve been invited to the Christmas party this weekend. It’s at the Sinclair residence in Seattle.”
Sara assumed there was a question in there somewhere, yet the whole situation felt more like she was being informed by the school principal that she had to stay late for detention. Bailey was supposed to go up to Seattle with her father this weekend, but Sara hadn’t expected an invitation to come along. As far as she knew, the Christmas party had been a tradition since the birth of the company, but mostly to entertain business relations and other posh friends. The surprise must have registered on her face, because Ruth commented on it at once.
“Don’t look at me. It wasn’t my idea.” Ruth pressed her lips together so hard that they became a bloodless line.
“Oh… then whose idea was it?”
“Preston’s. I’m sure he’s thinking of Bailey.” Ruth stared hard. “It’s only for executives of the company, board members, investors, those kinds of people. You’ll be out of your element and bored out of your mind.”
Bathed in the woman’s hatred, Sara rubbed her arms. This household was complicated—and exhausting. She had no desire to travel to Seattle for a party with businesspeople. She didn’t want to participate in any more social activities with Preston. The night he carried her upstairs, he had been almost too friendly. She’d rather stay here with Bailey—evil ghost-mother or not. Besides, she had made plans with David. Last weekend had awoken something primal in her. A week without David was hard enough to endure; extending it to two seemed like torture.
A little lightbulb went off in her head, and she gave Ruth her friendliest smile. “I could attend the party, of course. But do you think Preston would mind if I brought my boyfriend along? I’d promised to spend the weekend with him…”
Ruth’s face gave a little spasm at the word boyfriend, but after assessing the suggestion, she beamed back. “I think that’s a wonderful idea! Of course you can bring your significant other. It even says so on the invitation. How could Preston possibly object?” She clasped her hands together in pure joy. “I had no idea you had a boyfriend. How wonderful!”
Sara, still wrapping her mind around Ruth’s sudden change in demeanor, nodded. “Yes. He’s from around here—a real estate agent. His name is David Sanders. Preston may even know him, or of him.”
“Fantastic! I’ll get you an invite and write the two of you down, then.” Ruth rushed off, a new bounce in her step.
Sara suspected the first item on Ruth’s to-do list would be looking up this mysterious local real estate agent online. Poor Ruth, Sara thought, still carrying a torch for Preston. Funny that all Ruth needed to thaw her icy demeanor was to be able to scratch Sara’s name off the competitor list; had Sara known that, she would have mentioned David at their first meeting.
She took a sip of coffee and shudde
red at the cold slosh. She pitched the brew in the sink and placed the mug in the dishwasher. At least she had cleared one obstacle. Now all she had to do was convince David to come with her.
It proved more difficult than she expected. Although David had no objection to spending a weekend in Seattle with her, he recoiled at the idea of spending an evening hobnobbing with the Sinclair crowd. He also didn’t see why Sara couldn’t just refuse the invitation. It took some of Sara’s finest persuasion skills, and her commitment to attending a football game, to get him to relent.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t want to support you. But I have no fondness for these people.”
“You don’t have to. It’s just one evening. Maybe it’ll be good for business?”
David grunted. The prospect of the football game had cheered him up, though. “All right. But I still don’t think you should be spending more time than necessary with them. Besides, isn’t that the house where his wife killed herself? What if she’s there too? Why on earth would he hold a party there? Doesn’t that seem weird to you?” He ranted on for a while longer, but Sara didn’t have many answers for him.
“Look,” she said finally, “I don’t know. He still lives there, so I guess maybe Preston wants to project a sense of normalcy. I also wonder whether he has all his emotional chips in the right order—I’ve never met a more stoic man. All I know is that I think it’s important I get a glimpse of that study myself. Maybe I can sneak in while everyone’s mingling.”
According to David, that was an even worse idea. “We’ll have fun, you’ll see,” she pleaded.
When Friday arrived, she hoped she would be right about that. They checked into their hotel room to change for the party that evening. After some fussing with her makeup and hair, Sara stepped out of the bathroom wearing her favorite little black dress and low heels to accommodate her injured foot.
David’s response was priceless. “You look pretty tonight…” he stammered. “I mean, you always look pretty, of course. I like the dress.”
Sara blushed. “You look good too,” she replied, adjusting his tie. In fact, he looked incredibly handsome. He was wearing a nice suit and had taken his mother’s advice to shave. “Worthy of the name Phineas…” She chuckled while ruffling his unruly hair. “Are you ready to explore the Sinclair residence?”
“Don’t mock my middle name; it’s a proud family heirloom. And no, I’d rather stay here. If you know what I mean.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Sara giggled. “Don’t lose that thought.” She took his hand and pulled him along. “But first, we have a party to attend.”
The Sinclair residence was awe-inspiring. It was a beautiful mansion with a large yard, in the middle of a neighborhood that left Sara with little doubt about the financial status of its inhabitants. The house was the complete opposite of the lodge, with a light and airy design. The entrance hall was grandiose, with a high ceiling from which an exquisite light fixture dangled. The furniture throughout was minimalist and modern, with lots of white and grey tones and brushed nickel.
The main area of reception was the living room; Sara recognized the large, elaborate chandelier from one of her dreams, but the rug and some of the other furniture had been removed. The room was bigger than she remembered. The relief wall with the fireplace acted only as a divider, both sides leaving ample space to walk around it. Behind it was another area containing a grand piano. A set of smooth white steps on the side led to a loft overlooking the room. The white oak flooring gave a softness to the sterile environment, while a few colorful modern paintings brightened up the walls. A tall, decorated Christmas tree twinkled in the corner.
A large table was set out with hors d’oeuvres, and catering staff toiled back and forth, carrying trays filled with drinks. A few high tables had been placed throughout the room for people to gather around.
The room buzzed with voices, and Sara felt a little lost when she saw how many people were present. She quickly grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing tray and handed one to David. “Here, we may need this.”
David grinned. “Free drinks and food. That makes the experience a little nicer.”
“Maybe we should divide and conquer?” she suggested. “See what we can find out?”
David shrugged. “Sure.”
Sara downed half her glass in one gulp, her courage failing at the sight of all these people. How on earth was she to steal away unnoticed and find the study when she didn’t even know its location?
David headed toward the food table where he generously filled his plate, while Sara craned her neck to see if she recognized anyone. A little forlorn, she turned back to David, only to find he had already inserted himself between two men drinking beer at a table. As she moved closer, she heard them discussing the upcoming Seahawks game.
A little miffed that he was already getting along famously with these strangers while she stood alone—the one who had been invited!—she finished her champagne and secured a new glass.
“Men and their stupid football,” she grumbled, making her way through the room, scanning faces as she went along.
“Excuse me!” a high-pitched voice squealed into her ear as someone bumped into her. “Oh, it’s the nanny! Sorry, I forgot your name.”
“Oh, hello, Dawn.” Sara smiled at the young-looking woman. “Tutor, not nanny. Sara.”
“Yes, Sara, now I remember!” Dawn’s dangling earrings tinkled enthusiastically.
Sara glanced over Dawn’s black satin dress, which fit her like a second skin and was far from modest. Dawn must have a VIP membership to the gym as well as the hair salon, Sara observed, since she was now a brunette with hair extensions.
“How have you been, Sara?” Dawn was practically yelling. She stopped one of the catering staff and grabbed two flutes of champagne.
“Champagne?” Dawn offered her one.
“No, thanks, I’m good,” Sara said.
Dawn shrugged, and without shame, clung onto both her flutes. Apparently, releasing Dawn into a free-flowing champagne environment led to less than wholesome outcomes.
“Are you here with Ryan?” Sara asked.
“Yes, of course! He’s over there somewhere.” She waved in the direction of the grand piano.
“Have you recovered from your honeymoon?”
“Yes, quite a change, being back here. It’s so grey…” Dawn pulled a face. “I can’t wait to go away again.”
“I bet.” Sara nodded. “I was thinking, you two are such a lovely couple. Between you and me, it’s so hard these days to meet a decent man who’s not already taken. I mean, when you get to my age, most of them are. You’re lucky to have found a man like Ryan who was still single.”
Although she’d had a few, Dawn narrowed her eyes, as if debating whether Sara was hitting on her husband or being sincere. Maybe it had to do with Sara being the tutor, or the amount of champagne Dawn had ingested, but after only a short moment, she seemed to settle on the latter.
“Well,” she yelled into Sara’s ear, “he wasn’t that single. He was still married, actually.” She glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention. “His first wife, she was a piece of work. Just left him. He doesn’t like to talk about her—at all! Which is fine by me, of course.”
“No way.” Sara acted surprised. “He was still married? What happened? Did you convince him to divorce her? What did she say?”
Dawn shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” She emptied her second flute and placed it on the high table next to them.
“Aren’t you curious?” Sara asked, handing Dawn another flute of champagne that she had quickly snatched from a passing tray.
“Oh, thanks! Yes, of course, but neither one of us knows exactly how she felt about it. Ryan couldn’t reach her—and he went all out trying to find her. I think she doesn’t want to be found. In the end he got permission to place a notification in the paper of his intent to divorce, which is what you’re suppose
d to do, apparently. She never responded, so the judge granted him a divorce by default. End of story.”
“Wow…” This time Sara wasn’t pretending. “He doesn’t know where she is?”
Dawn had clearly lost interest in the conversation and was browsing the crowd for an escape. “No. But really—who cares? She must’ve been weird, right? She had no family, no ties. She denied Ryan the opportunity to have children, which was what he wanted. I mean, if you want to go it alone, by all means, do so, but don’t drag other people down with you. You know what they say, right, about the woman and the island?” Dawn shook her head in disapproval.
Sara was about to explain that the saying was “No man is an island,” which actually meant the opposite of what Dawn was implying, when Dawn waved at someone, emptied her glass, and said, “Sorry. You mind? I need to say hi.”
Sara smiled politely. “Of course. Well I’m glad Ryan has gotten a second chance to start a family with you.”
“Yeah…” Dawn turned a little pale and stumbled off on her stilettos.
Sara glanced in the direction of the grand piano—someone was playing. To her surprise Ryan and Bailey were sitting next to each other on the bench. The sweetness of the moment touched her. Ryan would do well with children, although she wasn’t convinced Dawn was going to be the one to give him the opportunity.
Unable to handle much more champagne at the moment, Sara decided that if she was to explore the house, now was as good a time as ever. She weaved her way through the groups of people and stepped into the hallway. Passing the restroom, she found an elegant staircase going up to the second floor. Pretending to know where she was going, she quickly walked up the steps. If someone started asking questions, she could always claim the restroom was taken and that she had gotten lost in search of another.
The Secrets of Sinclair Lodge Page 13