Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1)

by Christine Nolfi

  Elbows on the table, Jada studied the proposed menu of hors d’oeuvres. “Your parents will spring for shrimp cocktail?” she asked Cat. “They’ve invited nearly two hundred guests.”

  “Not a problem. They’d like to celebrate their fortieth in style.”

  “You’re talking twenty-five pounds of shrimp, give or take.”

  “Let’s err on the side of caution. Plan on thirty pounds.”

  “We still have to tally the liquor bill, desserts, band, and extra waitstaff.” Jada’s voice revealed doubt. “This is beginning to resemble a wedding reception.”

  Cat’s golden-hued cheeks took on a fierce tint. “We’re not skimping on the menu. This is what Mami wants.” Closing down the debate, she turned to Linnie. “Did you get the seafood quote from our supplier? I need the final cost.”

  The task had slipped Linnie’s mind. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll call today.”

  Impatience rippled through Cat’s eyes. “We’re prepping the first major party at the Wayfair in almost a decade. Stop worrying about Freddie. So he’s disappeared. Good riddance, I say.”

  “He’s not gone for good,” Jada muttered. She landed a sympathetic gaze on Linnie. “When he does make another appearance, what’s the game plan?”

  On the table, a pencil hid beneath the paperwork. Rolling it free, Linnie began chewing on the soft middle.

  Obviously Jada hoped she’d demand the return of all monies taken seven years ago. Linnie deserved an equitable resolution. Yet the need didn’t match the message in her heart. Fantasizing about ways to confront Freddie had been easy when she’d believed he’d never set foot in Sweet Lake again. She’d certainly never expected to protect him from an all-out brawl with Philip on the front lawn of the Wayfair.

  Since then, she wasn’t accosted by reflections on her brother as a sophisticated man brimming with arrogance. She was dogged by images of a much younger Freddie, the wild boy of the woods.

  He nearly failed every year of school, his textbooks left out in the rain or forgotten on the beach. Although four years younger, she learned to organize his life, quietly slipping into his room at sunup to unearth his book bag from beneath heaps of clothes on the floor. She’d wake him before their father burst in.

  Linnie, so much like her father, instinctively knew how to shield her brother from the laser-like intensity of Treat’s morning rituals. Wayfairs aren’t sleepyheads—get a move on. Freddie would place his narrow feet on the floor, dizzy as a drunk, as Linnie displayed his neatly packed book bag for their father’s inspection.

  Jada removed the pencil from between Linnie’s teeth. “Well?” she asked quietly. “What’s the plan?”

  “The next time Freddie drops by, I’ll ask for the money.”

  “Good. It’s time he settled up.”

  The tacit approval didn’t buoy her spirits. “What if we’ve been looking at this the wrong way?”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Freddie did have Dad’s permission to access all the accounts. What if my brother didn’t exactly steal the money?”

  In quiet moments, she’d always wondered about his deeper motives. It was easy to assume his shallow nature drove every decision he made—and his self-centeredness did come into play. But as she took in the outrage glistening in Cat’s eyes and Jada’s confusion, she again circled around to an uncomfortable truth. Her understanding of Freddie was flimsy at best. How to guess his true motives with any confidence?

  Warding off her friends’ protests, she held up her hands. “Sure, he wired thousands of dollars to a California bank account we didn’t know existed. I’m not denying the facts. What if he was just looking for the fastest way out?”

  “Out of what?” Jada demanded.

  “Ohio, our parents’ disappointment, the family legacy—all of the above.”

  Cat sputtered, “You’re excusing his actions?”

  “I’m saying he didn’t consider how much he’d hurt the rest of us. Dad’s stroke, the inn nearly going under—Freddie didn’t mean to cause a catastrophe. He just wanted to leave. Being Freddie, he didn’t stop to consider the consequences.”

  Jada’s eyes flashed. “He thought only of himself.”

  “Sure, but he thought our parents had money to spare. After the film of the Sirens got all those hits on YouTube, he found his calling, something he did well. He’d failed at everything else.”

  Except women, Linnie mused. He’d successfully romanced dozens of willing lovers. He dumped them just as quickly. On the surface, his cruelty seemed another example of a shallow nature. But she also wondered if a lonely childhood had taught him to mistrust deep relationships.

  She was still mulling it over as Jada said, “Linnie, he wasn’t a child. Freddie cleaned out the accounts when he was twenty-nine. Old enough to know better—and see the mess he left behind. Come to think of it, why didn’t he start paying you back once Bad Seed got off the ground?”

  “Maybe he tried. It’s not like I’d take his calls. Back then I was so hurt by how he’d betrayed us, so angry. I didn’t want to hear his voice.”

  “Fair enough. Then why didn’t he put a check in the mail? He didn’t need you to accept an apology to set things right.”

  “Injured pride?”

  “Avarice has my vote.”

  “You’re wrong. Our parents managed to forgive him. I didn’t.” A sudden discomfort swept through Linnie. “I still don’t. He’ll never admit as much, but he cares about my opinion. Reason enough to hold off on paying me back.”

  The words were barely out when another fragment from the past twisted her heart. Freddie’s hair tangled with leaves, his shirt torn from a solitary trek in the forest, where he’d been working on the tree house he’d built singlehandedly. Was the memory one of the countless times her mother sent her to fetch him? He appeared late on every occasion, trudging past the guests milling on the veranda, head lowered as Mr. Uchida called out a greeting from the front desk. Linnie had inherited their parents’ uncanny sense of time. Wake her in the wee hours of the morning, and she’d know the precise minute. Freddie easily confused 6:00 a.m. for 6:00 p.m.

  She caught her friends exchanging worried glances. Jada told her, “Be reasonable. This is not the time to feel compassion for your brother. We don’t have an inkling of his true motives. Never forget he’s an opportunist. I’m still waiting for him to come clean about the concert tickets that disappeared from your bedroom our freshman year of high school.”

  Linnie shrugged. “He was born with sticky fingers. Doesn’t mean he’s here to cause more trouble.”

  “Get real. Some people don’t have a good side. Whatever his motives, he’d better not turn your world upside down. Not again.”

  Jada paused as familiar voices grew in intensity outside the meeting room. Delight lit Cat’s features.

  Linnie groaned.

  Silvia and Frances burst inside. Frances was dressed in a typically sedate dress. Silvia’s heavy gold bangles jingled as she propelled her shorter, more voluptuous body to the head of the table. She wore apple-green capris and a hot-pink shirt with a plunging neckline.

  “Is there any truth to the rumors?” Cat’s mother appeared too furious to await a reply. “That icy crone, McCready, said the most awful thing when I stopped by the drugstore to get a prescription. She insists Freddie went into Daniel’s law firm through the back door.”

  “Today?” Linnie flinched at the hopeful notes in her voice. If her brother was back, perhaps Daniel was too.

  Freddie she could do without. Daniel she missed terribly.

  Silvia swung around, the bangles singing out. “Three days ago,” she supplied. “McCready saw him park in the back lot. Is it true? Freddie’s in town?”

  The question floated between the women like a dank odor. Gleaning the truth in Linnie’s eyes, Frances lifted a hand to her throat. So her prediction was correct. The letter was Freddie’s calling card.

  There was no stopping trouble, but so soon? She
gripped the edge of the table as her precarious blood pressure dropped. It was unconscionable for Linnie’s brother to show up right after sending the letter. The rules of etiquette dictated one wait at least several days after writing before storming the unsuspecting town. She couldn’t direct the Sirens to make enough charms or summon enough positive energy on such short notice.

  “Where are my smelling salts?” she murmured.

  Silvia darted her a fiery glance. “Get a grip, Frances. I forbid you to faint.”

  She met the rebuff with a dignified stare. “Can’t you see I’m in distress?”

  “I can see, and I don’t care. We must get to the bottom of this.”

  Oddly, the rebuke steadied her pulse. “Silvia, when your dander’s up, you display the warmth of a Russian winter.” Frances made a mental note to stock her friend’s cupboards with more soothing valerian root and chamomile teas. Evidently Silvia had run out. “How does Marco put up with your tantrums?”

  “I’d explain, but there are children present. And one of those children better start talking.” The hot-tempered Siren narrowed her sights on Linnie.

  Her ire threw a chill on the room. Moscow in January, compliments of the Siren most apt to follow her temper into the melee and damn the consequences. Frances cherished their long and enduring friendship, but no aspect of Silvia’s personality caused more grief. Life’s most precarious moments needed time to unfold and find resolution. The lesson was lost on Silvia. She jumped into every fray with her blood up and her voice unforgiving.

  Which described the present situation as she asked Linnie, “Why was your brother in Daniel’s office?”

  Frances pitied the girl, cringing beneath the misdirected fury. “Daniel is helping him with legal work,” Linnie replied. “I’m not sure if the work involves the film company or a personal matter. Honestly, I don’t have the details.”

  “Daniel won’t explain?”

  “Since when do lawyers reveal confidential information?”

  “Nonsense. He’s your close friend,” Silvia replied, with special emphasis on close.

  “He doesn’t share confidential information—even if it concerns my brother.”

  Sensing an opportunity, Frances eased into a chair. Guiding the young took finesse and sensitivity. Linnie and her peers managed to ping electrons across the planet and furthered social equality with more gusto than any preceding generation. Their texting abilities astonished. There wasn’t a monkey alive capable of peeling a banana faster than a young person could text.

  Yet in matters of amour, the young rarely found bliss without a road map. If Linnie needed a push in the right direction, Frances refused to miss an opportunity to help.

  “Have you tried persuading Daniel?” she asked. “I don’t give a hoot about the man’s ethics. This is war.”

  Threads of color crept up the girl’s neck. “I can’t make him explain why he’s helping my brother. Our friendship doesn’t obligate him to spill the details.”

  The admission didn’t surprise. Before the girl’s parents retired, Frances was a frequent dinner guest at the Wayfair table. She recalled Sarah’s constant prodding of her daughter, the subtle criticisms that stole Linnie’s confidence.

  “You should consider if you’re underestimating your ability to sway Daniel,” Frances said, hoping to heal the wounds of doubt Linnie carried. “Why, you’re lovely. Your skin is so creamy it practically glows, and your eyes have always reminded me of butterflies, so large and long lashed. Why wouldn’t he bring you into his confidence?”

  The compliments missed their mark. “Get real.” Linnie wrinkled her nose. “Women don’t bat their eyes at men. Not in this century.”

  “Perhaps not, but here’s an idea. Have you used every means at your disposal? He is a man, after all.”

  Cat, latching on to the query’s subtext, jumped in. “Use your brain, girlfriend. Frances is asking if you have lingerie. You know—the big guns.” She tapped a polished nail on her chin. “Oh, right. Your wardrobe consists of boring work outfits. You couldn’t lure a man to spill his secrets if your life depended on it.”

  “Hey!”

  Silvia stared the lot of them into silence. “So what do we have?” she muttered, pacing before the table like a flamboyant bird. “The devil’s spawn is stirring up trouble. He has Daniel in his clutches. We need to get to the bottom of this, but Linnie can’t perform the seduction required to make Daniel roll over. Not to put too fine a point on it, she hasn’t connected with her femininity since she rode on the back of a Harley with—” Silvia turned to her daughter. “What was his name?”

  “Butch,” Cat piped up. “Butch on a bike. Don’t you love the symmetry? Not much rattling around upstairs, but he was a hot body.”

  Linnie pressed her forehead to the table. “Let’s not rehash my youth. I don’t have the strength.”

  “Find it.” Peeling the girl’s forehead from the table, Frances smiled reassuringly. “If there’s anyone who can bring down the admirably high wall of Daniel’s principles, you’re the woman for the job. He’s smitten. Unleash your power. And use your breasts.”

  Caught up in the moment, she patted Linnie’s bosom with grandmotherly approval. Given the girl’s endowments, she’d have Daniel singing out his secrets in no time. “If you can’t recall how to take a man down, the Sirens will lend suggestions.”

  Linnie’s chair squeaked in protest as she moved out of reach. “Frances, I don’t need your help!”

  “Between us, we have more than a century of experience.” Fearing she’d gone too far, Frances lowered her hands to her lap. “You’d do well to memorize a chapter from our playbook.”

  “Lessons in seduction, compliments of the Sirens. What a great idea.” Rising, Linnie marched to the door. From over her shoulder, she added, “During the next full moon, I’ll haul my ass down to the beach for the primer.”

  She dashed out, depriving Frances of the opportunity to apologize. In her wake, the other women exchanged worried glances.

  Silvia was the first to speak. “Did you have to get hands-y?”

  “I wasn’t being hands-y. Can’t you recognize affection when you see it?”

  “If you need something to cuddle, get a dog. By the way, it’s one thing to follow your natural mothering instincts, quite another to invade a woman’s personal space. I’m sure Linnie figured you’d next outline the more delightful reasons to practice Kegel exercises or stuff her bra with herbs.”

  Mentioning Kegel exercises had been on the agenda. “Oh, be still,” Frances muttered. She felt bad enough about botching the attempt to help.

  Gratitude eased her disappointment when Jada cleared her throat. Pulling Silvia into a chair, she waved a hand at the lists for the anniversary bash. She resembled a game show host enticing Cat’s mother toward door number two.

  Glad to have escaped, Linnie slumped against the wall. A playbook on love? Admittedly she’d skipped dating for eons, but she didn’t need help from the Sirens. Not that she had any intention of seducing Daniel for mercenary gain—or plain old fun.

  Still, she’d been curt with Frances, who might have strange ideas about feminine wisdom, but did possess a wealth of kindness. The local humane society relied on her largess, and children in town never skipped the Dufour residence on Halloween. In lieu of loading kids up with sugar, Frances baked tray after tray of the best granola bars in three counties.

  Aware she’d treated the Siren badly, Linnie wavered. Go back inside and apologize?

  The opportunity vanished as Daisy rushed into the hallway. The maid looked like a finch high on stimulants.

  The clatter of pots from the kitchen, and a waiter hurried past with a tray for the Sunshine Room. Daisy threw herself against the wall.

  “What is it?” Linnie demanded. The girl’s springs were wound far too tightly.

  “Better get to the lobby.”

  A disgruntled guest? Linnie dashed through the hallway and into the back portion of the lobby’s seatin
g area. In her haste, she crashed into Mr. Uchida.

  The collision popped the natty carnation from his lapel. The flower bounced across the floor. She bent to retrieve it, but he caught her by the shoulders. A salvo of incomprehensible Japanese spilled from his mouth.

  She broke free. “English, please!”

  “Your brother has more luggage than a Kardashian. His goons demanded the key to the largest suite!”

  A more detailed explanation wasn’t necessary. A fizzy excitement spiraled through the lobby.

  Guests in animated groupings awaited the appearance of a celebrity. A false, and understandable, impression—outside, a white limousine sparkled in the sun. Two men, each larger than a refrigerator, placed suitcases in a growing pile by the front desk.

  Near the luggage, a girl with spiky orange hair stalked in a ferocious circle. She growled into the headset clamped to one bluish-white cheek. Linnie’s eyes widened. The skirt plastered across the girl’s thighs wasn’t really a skirt. More like a skimpy headband with steel rivets.

  Out front, Philip stood with his landscaping crew. They were slick cheeked from hours of toiling in the sun. Each man wore an expression of disgust as the chauffeur walked past them to open the door for his client. With a wave of his hand, Philip led his men back to work.

  Freddie danced up the steps. He entered the lobby with the joie de vivre of an actor receiving his third Academy Award.

  “No autographs, please!” He winked at a matron stationed by the desk.

  Linnie came forward. “He’s no one special,” she told the woman. She blocked Freddie’s path. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking in.”

  “No way.”

  “Corner suite, second floor,” he blithely informed her. “I’ve taken smaller rooms for my staff. I do hope the Wi-Fi is up to date. Can’t hold online meetings if it’s on the blink.”