“Sugarpop, you really are a fool. What you want and what’s written in the contract doesn’t match.” Bringing himself forward on the chaise lounge, he held her gaze like a challenge. “Rest assured, I won’t take over anytime soon. I love California. Frankly, I’m happy to let you do all the work. When I retire, your time at the helm will end.”
Indignation brought her to her feet. “Who’s living under a delusion? I’ve sweated every decision needed to stop the inn from being shuttered. You left me in a terrible pinch, and I hated you—hated everything you’d dumped on me. I’ll never let you take it away.”
Panting, she brought the tirade to a halt. Air strained against her lungs. The room spun in nausea-inducing waves, but she managed to plant her feet. When her vision came back into focus, she discovered a cruel delight lifting the corners of Freddie’s mouth.
“And to think I was joking,” he murmured. “You haven’t read the contract.”
Nursing private thoughts, he walked to the door. With a sideways glance, he delivered the parting shot.
“We’re fifty-fifty partners, Linnie,” he assured her. “But only until I buy you out.”
Chapter 10
Mr. Uchida placed the frosty glass of iced tea at her elbow. “Freddie will be down in a moment.”
“Thank you for ringing his room.” Frances nodded at the glass. “And for bringing a refreshment.” Waiting on guests wasn’t part of Mr. Uchida’s job description, and she appreciated the kindness. After the events in Freddie’s suite, she was parched.
At the front of the veranda, a couple in swimsuits knelt before their young daughter. The mother dabbed sunblock on the child while the father slipped the girl’s feet into sandals. The tasks completed, the family trotted down the steps.
They left behind a welcome silence. Nestled in the veranda’s far corner, Frances lifted the glass to her lips.
Her thoughts drifting, she recalled the inn during its heyday, and the town that prospered in its shadow. Until cancer took him away, her beloved Archibald had worked tirelessly mapping out new subdivisions for the homes he built, the cottage-style dwellings suitable for a tourist town and the larger homes, like the colonial where she still lived. She’d always been grateful her beautiful soul mate had ascended to a better world before tragedy struck the town.
Now, if she strolled the streets behind the circle, she witnessed disrepair, the paint peeling from dwellings her husband had lovingly erected.
Sweet Lake was dying. People talked about Linnie righting the ship, but Frances questioned their optimism. Only recently had the girl brought the inn from the brink of bankruptcy. If she faltered, if her brother got in the way, the town stood to lose more than the inn.
Freddie appeared, his hair neatly combed. He’d dressed in a navy sport coat and ivory-colored pants. Frances patted the seat beside hers on the wicker couch. He chose instead the chair opposite.
“I’ve agreed to your terms. What now?” He peered over the veranda at the rolling hills. “Where are the others?”
“I’ve sent them home,” Frances assured him. “I wanted to speak to you in private.”
“Why do I have the sense you’re about to impart advice?”
“Because I’ve known you since you were in short pants, and you do need my guidance.”
He crossed his legs with mild impatience. “Go on.”
Happy to teach him patience, she took a dainty sip of the tea. Frustration overrode the compassion she’d always harbored for him. Such a talented soul, yet Freddie was perverse and unyielding. The spitting image of his mother, but the hardening of his mouth reminded her of Treat.
“For however long you plan to stay in Sweet Lake, I suggest you tread lightly.” She took another sip of her drink, allowing the suggestion to sink in. “The Sirens aren’t the only ones upset by your homecoming.”
“Sweet Lake isn’t my home.” Freddie shifted in his chair. “Nor do I understand why anyone else is upset.”
Frances stilled him with a look. “You’re blind to the harm you’ve caused.” She’d always had a soft spot for him, which put a note of compassion in her voice. “The video is a minor infraction compared to the pain you’ve caused many others. The inn has suffered, but not nearly as much as the people who lost their jobs. They aren’t aware you’re to blame. But your appearance brings up memories of a difficult time in Sweet Lake.”
“A bit of an exaggeration, Frances.”
“Look around. The Wayfair now employs half the original staff. Some of the people let go are still out of work, seven years on.”
The observation sent his attention across the empty veranda. In his throat, his Adam’s apple twitched.
He said, “I never meant to throw people out of work.”
“But you did. If not for Linnie’s diligence, the damage would be even greater.”
She let the observation linger between them, certain her words would rouse his conscience from deep slumber. Oh, Freddie liked causing havoc and alienating the people who loved him best. He enjoyed leaving the impression he never looked back, never gave a moment’s thought to the pain scattered in his wake. Frances wasn’t fooled.
When it seemed he couldn’t bear another second of her scrutiny, he said, “You’re laying on the guilt awfully thick. Are you looking for a confession? Then yes, my actions had unintentional results.”
“They still do.”
“Fine—so they do. I didn’t come back to force more people out of work, or whatever you think.”
“I haven’t a clue why you’re in Sweet Lake. I would like to emphasize your need to tread carefully. Some of the old wounds haven’t healed. Don’t reopen them.”
He squirmed like a child caught misbehaving. “What do you want from me? I can’t give everyone in town points on my next movie, if you’re implying as much.”
She relished the first signs of conscience wavering in his expression. “I’m not,” she replied.
“Thank God for small miracles. I can’t fund the town. I will try to do something nice for the remaining staff before I leave.”
“Good idea. I doubt your sister can afford to give raises often. Any small kindness on your part will help.”
Her approval seemed to placate him, and he glanced at his watch. No doubt he wanted to bring the conversation to an end. Frances let him stew for a long minute, aware that his respect for her, an inconvenience at the moment, kept him rooted in place. During Freddie’s childhood, his mother, Sarah, was among her closest friends. Back then Freddie’s antics caused Sarah worry—and nosebleeds, migraines, and more than a few tears. Through it all, Frances had counseled restraint. A creative child like Freddie needed time to find his path.
On a few dreadful occasions, she’d argued with Treat about being too hard on the boy. Those disagreements never brought the intended result, and Treat continued to push his son to become something he was not.
Her bond with the family allowed her to reach beneath the hard shell of Freddie’s pose. “Why do you continue tormenting your sister? She loves you. More than you think.”
He laughed in derision. “On this point you’re wrong.”
“Withholding forgiveness isn’t the same as withholding love.”
“I beg to differ.”
There was no reason to debate the point. While Freddie remained in Sweet Lake, the possibility existed of healing the rift.
Choosing her parting words with care, she asked, “Is that why you’re pretending an interest in the Wayfair? Your sister expects your worst behavior, and you’d hate to disappoint?”
Daniel finished the call from the Devlin Institute. According to Dr. Eriksson, Bryce Reed’s first appointment with the medical team had gone well. Surgery was scheduled for next week.
Daniel was still on the outs with Linnie, but at least the decision to represent Freddie was bearing fruit. Soon Bryce would regain sight in at least his right eye. Would the cornea graft take in his left? During the call, Eriksson conveyed no guarantees. The
surgeon remained optimistic that his patient would regain full vision. For Daniel, the chance at full sight was enough.
He walked into the other room to share the good news with Kay.
She eyed him appraisingly. “You look absolutely buoyant,” she said. “A nice change of pace. Lately you’ve been a study in gloom.”
“I do feel good.”
“Then I hope this tidbit doesn’t yank you from the clouds.”
“Do you mean the Stillwell divorce? I’ve already scheduled their first appointment.” He hated divorce cases. “Duke cornered me last week in the circle. Says it’s an amicable split.”
“I’m not talking about the Stillwells, although I do feel sorry for them. While you were catching up on work, the Sirens stopped by. They’re up in arms about Freddie.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Kay angled her chin. “All right, I will. Among other reasons for the visit, they wanted to offer moral support.”
“For me, or you?”
Immediately he wished to recall the question. For Kay, obviously. From her desk she withdrew a wreath of willow branches and honeysuckle.
Placing the wreath on her head, she struck a jaunty pose. “What do you think? Do I resemble a garden nymph?”
She looked silly, an opinion not worth sharing. “I wasn’t aware you’d joined the Sirens,” he said. “I was under the impression you didn’t condone their superstitions or late-night revelries down by the lake.”
“I continue to resist their repeated invitations.” Enjoying herself, Kay adjusted the wreath. “I haven’t been pursued this hard since my husband slipped love letters beneath the door of my college dorm room. Quite a thrill.”
The romantic suggestion quickened Daniel’s blood. How much longer would he have to wait for Linnie to recognize they were already in a relationship? She wouldn’t quickly forgive him for helping Freddie, but he had every intention of wearing her down. Love letters, chocolates—could he convince her to join him on a short vacation to Miami? Keeping her naked for days sure got his vote.
Voices drifted in from the reception area. Energetic barking and an impatient command followed. Evidently Philip wasn’t succeeding in getting Puddles to calm down. Fancy’s laughter added to the chorus.
Breaking ranks, Fancy dashed in and threw herself into Daniel’s arms. Puddles, straining his leash, dragged Philip to Kay’s desk. With curiosity Daniel noted the storm clouds banking in his brother’s eyes.
“Bro, we need to talk.” Philip took a biscuit from the jar on the desk and lofted it into the air. Puddles leapt, taking perfect aim. “Representing Freddie in whatever legal mess he’s in—you should’ve steered clear. It’s a dumb move.”
“I’m not representing him in a lawsuit.” Daniel gave Fancy a peck on the cheek before lowering her to the ground. “Can the public flogging wait? I’m busy.”
“No, you’re not,” Kay put in. “Philip, he’s yours for the next thirty minutes. He’ll work on the contract when he gets back.”
Daniel, on his knees receiving sloppy kisses from the beast, looked up with confusion. “What contract?”
“Frances and the other Sirens strong-armed Freddie into giving them a percentage of his next film. They’re trusting you to ensure they get every dime coming to them.”
Philip whistled softly. “Freddie’s toast. Nothing more dangerous than a bunch of middle-aged women. Add wisdom to seething hormones and nobody’s safe.”
Daniel’s estimation of the Sirens grew. “Kay, how did they pull this off?”
“They were armed.”
Philip opened a drawer in her desk, handed his daughter a cookie. “Silvia owns a gun?” he asked. “I can’t imagine Frances armed with anything but good manners.”
Kay sniffed. “Hardly. They came at Freddie with sticks. They frightened him sufficiently to receive three percent of his next movie. Frances made the deal.”
Philip looked visibly impressed. “Fill me in on the details when we get back.” He glanced at Daniel with less goodwill. “C’mon. You have some explaining to do.”
In the circle, the local Girl Scout troop had set up tables for face painting. They were raising money for the annual camping trip held each September. Fancy’s eyes lit with excitement. Philip pressed five dollars into her palm.
“Stay where I can see you,” he instructed. “I’ll be at the picnic tables with Uncle Daniel.”
Fancy hopped up and down. “Can Puddles come with me?”
Daniel nodded. “Don’t let the Brownies paint his face. I’ll never get the muck out of his fur.”
She raced away with Puddles barking in pursuit.
Once they were out of earshot, Philip let the anger seep onto his face. “Why the hell are you working for Freddie? I’d guess he’s blackmailing you, but you don’t have a dark past. What gives?”
“This isn’t blackmail. I agreed to offer my services.”
“Why did you agree?”
“Seemed the best way to help Linnie.” His affection for her had made him rush in without full knowledge of the situation. “At the time, I didn’t know he owned fifty percent of the inn. If I had, I would’ve played my cards differently.”
“So he’s manipulating you.”
He thought of Bryce and the chance for regained eyesight. “Even if Freddie is using me for some other purpose, I don’t regret the decision. The matter I’m handling on his behalf . . . he’s doing something good.”
“Freddie’s bad news. He’s incapable of doing anything good.”
“Normally I’d agree. Not this time.” Across the circle, Fancy perched on a stool. One of the Girl Scouts dabbed eye shadow on her lids. “Don’t ask for the specifics. Freddie is helping someone—and the help is needed.”
His brother absorbed the vague explanation with impatience. “Assuming I buy your story, which I don’t, what about Linnie? You’re good friends. How’s she taking the news you’re handling legal work for her brother?”
Suddenly drained, Daniel took a seat at the nearest picnic table. Under different circumstances, the comment would amuse. After all these years, his brother still didn’t understand the true nature of his feelings for Linnie. Did the rest of Sweet Lake also believe he viewed her as merely a friend? Surely not Jada or Cat. At times Daniel caught them regarding him with pity and sweet understanding.
“Linnie’s angry,” he admitted. Philip prepared to hurl another volley, and he held up his hand. “Hold on, will you? I can’t reveal my business with Freddie. I will tell you this much. I’m working in trade. He promised to return the money if I handled the other matter.”
“You take care of a legal matter, and he pays her back?”
“She’ll have all the money soon.” At the doubt lowering Philip’s brows, he added, “I wrote an airtight contract, which he signed without hesitation. If he reneges on the deal, I’ll go after Bad Seed Productions. Believe me, I’ll win.”
“She knows about the deal you’ve struck?”
“Freddie insisted on complete secrecy.”
“That’s great. Have you guessed why he doesn’t want her clued in? What better way to drive a wedge in your friendship—a permanent wedge. By the time she discovers what’s really going on, she might never forgive you.” Philip released a hollow laugh. “I have to give Freddie points. He’s manipulated you perfectly.”
Daniel resisted the cynical analysis. “You’re reading too much into this,” he shot back, worried by his brother’s prediction. If the present situation destroyed his chances with Linnie, he’d never forgive himself. “What does he gain by driving a wedge between me and Linnie?”
“Don’t waste your time searching for a plausible reason.” His brother kicked a stone hidden in the grass, his frustration palpable. “Freddie enjoys making trouble. Plain and simple. It’s what unhappy people do.”
Daniel began arguing the point. His voice died as his attention strayed across the street.
Freddie stepped out of the law offi
ce with two large men. Apparently Kay had explained where to find her employer. Leaving his bodyguards standing before the office like a wall of muscle, he weaved through traffic to reach the circle.
“Philip, what an unpleasant surprise.” He motioned to the men. “Don’t try anything funny. I’ve brought protection.”
Beneath his breath, Philip muttered, “Wimp.”
“Don’t you have some dirt to dig? Please leave.”
Philip curled his fingers into fists. “Care to make me?”
Daniel blocked his brother from approaching. “Who are they? Linebackers for the Cleveland Browns?” He did a second take. Each man held a box in his arms.
“They’re bodyguards from a firm in Columbus.”
“You don’t need them.” He stared pointedly at his brother. “Philip is leaving.”
Tension pulled the air taut. “Right.” Philip’s neck corded with fury.
To Daniel’s relief, he marched off. Puddles raced across the grass to meet him.
Daniel was equally furious. Unlike his brother, he took care to hide the strong emotion.
A ruse no longer required as he turned on his client.
“I want the facts,” he growled, “and no lies. I’m sick of being played.”
Freddie’s eyes rounded. “When have I lied to you?”
“The night you showed up at my house. Why didn’t you mention your stake in the Wayfair?”
For a split second, Freddie seemed taken aback. “I assumed you knew.” Quickly he read the consternation on Daniel’s face. A malicious little smile threatened to overtake his mouth. “My parents transferred ownership years ago. Is it possible my sister failed to mention we’re co-owners of the inn?”
Sick-hearted, Daniel fell back on his heels. God help him—Freddie wasn’t playacting. He’d come to an obvious conclusion. There were precious few secrets between two people as close as Daniel and Linnie. Only this time, there was a secret—one too important not to share.
Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1) Page 12
