by Ellie Hall
We’d spend evenings watching the sunset over the lake. It would be a far cry from my life with the lavish homes, dinners out in top-tier restaurants, and all the schmoozing. However, this past month in Liberty Lake has taught me how dependent I’ve been. Granted, I’ve made my own way with the chain of oil change stores, but I want to forge a path forward on my terms and not bookended by family expectations and ultimatums.
I also dug in deep to figure out what exactly is going on at the Oil Change King. It’s not unusual for Harlen to take out his speedboat on the lake, but I noticed that on the mornings he mentioned he’d been boating, a case of the fluid that’s supposed to be recycled had gone missing. Is there a connection? I’m here to find out.
My ears perk at the sound of footfalls on the gravel. A waft of vanilla sugar teases my senses before Rosie whispers, “Why do I have to be Cream Puff and you get to be Foxtrot? That name is way cooler.”
I stifle a chuckle and kiss her on the temple. “Cream Puff reminded me of ice cream. Plus, you’re cute.”
She inclines her head like she’s blushing. “I would’ve preferred Ice Queen. And you could be the Car King or something, seeing as you like cars.”
I wince slightly because her proximity to the truth of my identity is unnerving. “I picked Foxtrot because I’m foxy.” I waggle my eyebrows.
“I can’t disagree there.”
A little thrill at her agreement shoots through me. She leans in and we exchange a quick kiss then break apart when a pair of headlights beam across the water as an old truck backs a boat down the launch platform.
“So, what’s the mission?”
I fill her in on Harlen’s boating excursions and the missing cases of transmission fluid. “Could be coincidence, but—?”
We watch as Harlen, wearing a camouflage windbreaker, cranks the winch, lowering the boat into the water.
“The locals say fishing is good at night.”
“My grandfather used to go birding at night. It’s one thing to spot birds, but he said hearing them and identifying their distinct calls was like a game.”
I point as Harlen puts a box in the back of the boat.
“I don’t think he’s catching and releasing.”
Rosie starts to straighten and I yank her back down.
“Don’t blow our cover yet. We need to catch him in the act.”
“And how do you propose we do that? Swim after him? The lake is huge.”
“And so is Harlen’s mouth. He’s always bragging about his ninja outboard motor and his favorite cove where he likes to put down a line.”
“I count three problems. Likely, he’s out fishing during the day. If he’s calling his boat’s motor a ninja, it’s probably quiet to not scare the fish.”
“Or dump toxic chemicals in the cover of darkness. Know of any coves?”
“That’s problem number three. There are about ten that dot the shore. Once Harlen takes off, he could go anywhere.”
“Think of this as an adventure. Plus, I brought these.” I hold up a pair night vision binoculars.
She peers through them, honing in on Harlen. “Any other spy equipment?”
“Just our walkie talkies. I figured you could take the west side and I’ll go east.”
“You do realize we both have cell phones and can communicate silently without the walkie-talkie static.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” I nudge her with my shoulder.
Rosie tips her head back with silent laughter. “Fair enough.”
With the binoculars, I follow the streak of silver as the boat cuts through the water. “It looks like he’s going straight for the cove by my aunt’s house.”
“That may simplify things.”
Above, the moon follows us and the stars shine like mica in the sand as we near my aunt’s mansion.
The silhouette of cattails and reeds stand tall and still. Frogs and crickets peep and click.
We pause out of sight by the edge of the water. Harlen’s boat rocks gently as a breeze kicks up. Rosie shivers and I wrap my arm around her as a particular smell wafts under my nose.
I peer through the binoculars, but Harlen holds a fishing rod in one hand and a glass bottle in the other.
“What’s he up to?” I speculate, following that cord of thought until a, “Swe, swee, sweeet,” fills the night for at least a full minute. I look up.
When it’s silent, Rosie slides closer to me, whispering, “That was the Northern Saw-whet owl. You probably won’t see it, but hearing, just listening is underrated. Anyway, the Saw-whet is tiny with brownish feathers.”
I listen again, only this time, I hear the trickling of something like water out of a faucet and into a bucket. Or transmission fluid out of a container and into a lake.
My insides go cold at the sound of the crime.
“How are we going to catch him in the act if he’s out there and we’re right here?” Rose asks.
I get to my feet, reach for her hand, and say, “Spies like us need to have tricks up their sleeves.”
“Do you mean magicians?”
I chuckle. “I added a special, non-toxic, pigment to the transmission fluid that’s only visible with a black light. If Harlen got any on his hands, we’ll catch him dirty-handed.”
“That’s genius. Are you actually a spy?”
My laugh is low. “No. Just a regular guy.” But that’s only part of the truth and when she learns the whole thing, I’m afraid things between us will be over. Best not to think about it.
“So what now?”
“We’ll meet him at the boat launch and—” I wave a black light wand.
She laughs lightly. “Like I said, a magician.”
“If only I could magic the funds Harlen has siphoned from the Oil Change King. If my theory is correct, instead of redeeming these fluids, he’s charging the customers, dumping the stuff in the lake, then keeping the money for himself.”
“That’s sneaky.”
“And illegal. Good thing I have powerful lawyers.” I realize what I’ve said a moment too late. My insides clench as I fear what Rose and I have blowing apart.
In the low light, I can’t tell if she picked up on my blunder. She cocks her head as a hooting that verges toward a grunt echoes across the water. It’s guttural and distinctly masculine sounding.
“That was the Short-eared owl, a male to be specific. They usually hunt at dusk, but since it was windy earlier, he might be late for his feeding. The short-eared was my grandfather’s favorite. Its wings are huge and powerful.”
A net of stillness and silence catches us, except for the frogs and crickets and my heart, tapping out a call of its own in my chest.
But I’m afraid the magic between us will be over all too soon.
11
The Inside Scoop // Rose
In the coming days, Doug keeps me appraised on the case against Harlen. Sure enough, the pigment in the fluid stained his hands. Doug’s theory was right about the Oil Change King franchise operator’s devious methods to collect a few cents here and a few cents there instead of bringing the fluid to the redemption center.
All those nickels and dimes added up to real money. Harlen is in trouble with the Environmental Protection Agency, Liberty Lake, and the Oil Change King chain owners are bringing him to court.
“Looks like Grumpasaurus Rex got soft-served,” Jeanie says.
“More like the Triceri-cops will be serving him with hard time.”
The door to Queen’s Cones jingles above our laughter. We all fall silent as my biker boyfriend saunters in—Dougzilla no more.
Jeanie makes a big fuss, congratulating him on the successful sting operation.
“I can’t believe you two went undercover and uncovered Harlen’s wrongdoing.”
“Leave solving small-town mysteries to Cream Puff and Foxtrot.”
Emma gives us a sideways look.
“Better than Scooby and Shaggy, right?” Doug leans down and plants a kiss on my cheek. �
��This case is going to court, so it looks like I need a new job.” He winks.
“Hmm.” I squeeze his biceps. “It looks like you qualify to scoop ice cream.”
He chuckles. “I was thinking of fixing up your garage. Maybe restore some old cars.”
My heart hiccups. Could we do this? Can I trust him?
Dougie and I sit outside at a table and review the confrontation from the night before, the guilt then rage that streaked across Harlen’s face when confronted, and the satisfaction of seeing him hauled away for polluting our lake and embezzling money.
“To be truthful, all I care about is the lake. I’m betting a huge corporation like the Oil Change King can afford the pennies it lost to Harlen’s thievery,” I say.
“More like two million dollars if you add up the fines, court fees, and all that nonsense.”
I frown because I can’t imagine why that matters to him. Anderson and his greed for money and prestige come to mind. But I assure myself that Doug isn’t like that.
He exhales and twirls a loose piece of my hair. “It’s been over a month since we met right here at your shop.”
“It was definitely hate at first sight.”
“But what is it now?” He smirks.
“I’ve been asking myself the same question.” I lift onto my toes, ready to kiss him.
He says, “Now that we stopped the pollution, what’s next?”
“I’d been praying for the lake and now we can have real summer fun. You were saying about working out of my garage. Considering my preferred currency is ice cream and I have plenty of that, how do you plan to pay me?”
He kisses my lips softly and then moves to my cheek, my jaw, the ticklish spot by my ear, and then travels to my neck.
“Do you accept kisses?” he asks when he draws back.
“I suppose that will be acceptable.” Then I move in for another.
Over the next weeks, Doug and I fall into lake-life rhythm. He clears out my garage, ridding it of spiders, putting up drywall, and outfitting it with heat for the winter. I guess that means he plans to stay awhile. I’m busy at Queen’s Cones, but in between, we find plenty of time to swim, pick blueberries, and watch the sunset. Oh, and there’s lots of kissing and ice cream in the mix too. What can I say? I’m in love.
However, as the end of the month and my birthday nears, the stress gets real. I can’t ignore the fact that my mother, sister, and her fiancé who is my actual mortal enemy will soon descend on Liberty Lake.
As I struggle to clean a burned waffle off the tiles of the machine, Emma plants a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Thursday is Friday junior and after that, it’s the weekend.”
I look at her deadpan. “I’m not familiar with that term. What did you say? A weekend?”
“Oh, come on, you’ve been having so much fun,” Jeanie says.
My sigh is long. “I don’t mind working on the weekends because people are happy to be at the lake. As I always say, you can’t buy happiness, but you can buy ice cream. The trouble is Margo is bringing Anderson up here.”
“No!” Emma and Jeanie say in unison.
“Yes. My mother isn’t so much the problem. She’s just particular. I can even stand Margo in small doses. She’s my sister, after all.”
“But she’s bringing Anderson,” Emma repeats.
“Mostly to rub it in my face.”
“Rub what in whose face? Whatever it is sounds unpleasant unless we’re talking about cream pies—clown-style,” Doug mimes tossing a pie in someone’s face, “not be confused with cream puffs.” He winks at me then dives in for a quick kiss.
“Margo has a lot of nerve.” Emma’s expression slants with best-friend protectiveness.
Jeanie shakes her head. “No, she’s bitter.”
“She’s the one marrying Anderson,” Emma argues.
“I know a guy named Anderson.” Doug grimaces.
“The one and only,” a slippery voice says.
We all whirl to see my mother, sister, and ex standing in the doorway to Queen’s Cones.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“To celebrate your birthday,” my mother exclaims.
I stand stiffly, flashing Emma, Jeanie, and Doug a desperate, Please help. “I thought you were coming up the day after tomorrow.” I need time to emotionally prepare for them to stomp all over the hallowed ground of Liberty Lake.
“I heard about the construction on the highway and motorists being stuck in traffic for hours so I figured if we beat the weekend rush, we’d have more time together. It’s your thirtieth birthday, after all.”
“That’s sweet but—”
“Please, dear, make introductions.” My mom eyes Doug.
I clear my throat. “You know Emma and Jeanie. This is Doug Slate. My boyfriend.” I’m not so petty that I say this to rub it in because Doug would crush Anderson in both a knife fight and a contest for the cover model of a men’s magazine, but because for the first time in years, I’m proud to say I have a boyfriend—he’s kind, genuine, thoughtful, and handsome. Have I mentioned that?
“I’m Bernice, Margo and Rose’s mother. This is Anderson, her fiancé.”
Margo taps her fingers on her crossed arms. It takes a lot to impress her—mostly of the dollar variety.
Anderson snorts through his nose. “It’s a real surprise seeing a guy like you in a place like this.” Then with his dumb, beady little eyes, he turns to me. “Nice, by the way.” His chuckle is the color, shape, and tone of condescension.
Doug turns to me. Anger scrawls across his face. “I didn’t know you were engaged.”
I balk. “More like I was engaged to him. Past tense.” I flash my empty ring finger. “Dodged a life of misery and betrayal.” I don’t spare Anderson my ire. Then I realize how my mother introduced them made it sound like Anderson was my fiancé.
“Rose, I thought we were past this,” my mother says.
“I didn’t know Douglas King stooped to such lows,” Anderson says, returning my nasty gaze. “We go way back. Boarding school. Cotillions. College.” His laugh is dry.
Confusion ripples through me but not like the fudge Jeanie just warmed. More like tar. Thick, sticky, stinky. “Douglas King? I thought your last name was Slate.”
Margo titters. “Guess you don’t know each other that well.”
At the crest of Doug’s brows in apology, my expression falls and my heart follows.
My gaze floats to the slate chalkboard behind the counter. Doug’s last name isn’t Slate. He made that up. Anderson said, Douglas King. Pieces come together. The Oil Change King. That’s why he cared so much about the company. He lied to me just like Anderson did.
Before the tears come, I rush out of Queen’s Cones and toward the lake.
12
I Scream // Doug
All the women present in the ice cream shop, except Rose’s sister Margo, rush toward the door. I’m bigger and faster, so I beat them out. Plus, this is my explanation and apology to make. Ones I should’ve offered well before now.
Rose sits alone in the sand at the far end of the beach. I pad softly toward her. Why didn’t she tell me she was with Anderson? Oh, right. She wasn’t aware I knew the jerk because she didn’t know my true identity.
Her shoulders shake and she sniffles when she realizes someone approaches. I plop down in the sand and place my hand on her back, leaning close. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
“No.”
I’m not sure if there is a period or a question mark after the word.
Rose draws a deep breath and rounds on me. “Are you Doug Slate or Doug King of the iconic oil family?”
I’ll admit that my father is a shrewd businessman and my mother is just shrewd, but they are my family, and the way she says the last name so derisively sets my teeth on edge with defensiveness.
“Then you’ve heard of the Kings?”
“I was engaged to Anderson. Of course, I had. We probably met at some fancy function
or other.”
I shake my head. “No, I’d remember you.”
“My hair used to be blond and big. I used to dress like my sister because that’s what Anderson expected of me.”
And now the story I sensed early on comes out.
“You changed.”
“For him. This—” She gestures to herself. “Is the real me. But you? Who are you? Is this beard even real?” She fists it and pulls. I gently peel her fingers away.
“Do you really like cars? Do you actually hate ice cream?”
“Yes. No,” I answer patiently.
“If you’re the Oil Change King owner, it’s your fault the lake was in trouble.”
She huffs. “What’s true? What’s a lie?”
“Except for my last name and the fact that I own the Oil Change King chain, everything I told you was true especially that I love you.”
She sinks back and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You never told me that.”
“I’m sorry you’re hearing it this way for the first time. But it’s true.” I glance toward the water. With my knees bent and my elbows looping them, I hang my head. “It’s the first time I’ve ever told anyone that. I never even exchanged those words with my parents. We weren’t that kind of family.” I mumble the last part.
“I love you too. Well, I loved the man I thought you were.” Tears fill Rose’s eyes and I wish I could wipe them away like chalk off a slate.
“I apologize for not telling you the truth of my identity. It started as an undercover boss thing and I went too far. Too deep. I just wanted something real. A summer escape.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m the escape you’re looking for.”
I lean in for what feels like a last kiss. It’s soft. A whisper of what we’ve shared these last months.
When we part, Rose says, “Maybe we’re two people who kiss because there’s so much we’re afraid to say. Truths we’re afraid to tell.”
“That’s the thing. I am ready. Ready for a life with you, Rose.”