Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1)

by Christine Nolfi

  More snuffling. “Why wasn’t I one of those lucky women with a devoted daughter? All my friends have grandchildren. Patty Freeland’s daughter takes her shopping every weekend.”

  “Mother, I am devoted.”

  “Are you sure? I can’t recall the last time we enjoyed a spa day together.”

  A spa day? “Definitely not within my budget,” she said with rising agitation. Or yours. “If the situation changes, I promise to spend a weekend primping with you.”

  “Oh, Sugarpop. What makes you certain I wouldn’t like to take you?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. Because you live on a fixed income?” At times her mother’s grasp of reality was tenuous at best.

  “No, you’re right,” Sarah croaked. “This isn’t the time for a spat. Much better to let you break my heart in person. Don’t worry about picking me up. Freddie promised to send a car to the airport.”

  Dismay yanked her upright. “You’re flying in?”

  No! Dealing with Mr. Evil and the Queen of Tears required the emotional dexterity of a politician. She’d never survive simultaneous visits.

  “I’d come tomorrow, but I must see the dog trainer. I have a tea at the women’s club the following day. Friday’s out—your father’s bridge tournament. I can’t leave our new baby alone in the house.”

  In free fall, Linnie tallied the days in her head.

  No, no, no!

  “You’re coming on Saturday?” The day of the anniversary bash. “Not a good idea. How ’bout a visit later this summer?”

  A delicate honking carried across the line. Presumably Sarah was blowing her nose. “I’ll take the red-eye Friday night,” she supplied in a stronger voice. “Freddie booked first class. Isn’t that sweet? I’d stay the weekend to catch up with the Sirens, but duty calls. The church bake sale is Sunday. I volunteered to man the cupcake station.”

  “You’re only staying the day?”

  “Only long enough to make you listen to reason.”

  The comment’s subtext landed like a blow to her stomach. Her desire to push Freddie out of the family biz was unreasonable. Her mother would arrive to trail tears and guilt-inducing comments until Linnie relented.

  She was screwed.

  “Don’t come.” She hated the risk of trampling her mother’s emotions. In person, her mother’s histrionics were powerful enough to make her agree to anything.

  In the background, a frenzied yipping sounded. “Enjoy the rest of your week, Sugarpop,” Sarah remarked breezily. “We’ll get you all straightened out on Saturday. Kisses, sweetie!”

  Linnie hurled the phone across the bed. Enjoy the remainder of the week? The female employees were poisoned with glam fever. Plus her evil sib planned to augment Saturday’s skeleton crew with temp workers. Some of the staff she’d let go after Freddie stole the money promised to work the night, but they’d all need a refresher course. They hadn’t worked at the inn for seven years.

  Now her mother was coming in on Friday’s red-eye.

  An equally pessimistic thought intruded. During the short conversation, the contract never came up. Desperate for reassurance, she recalled Jada’s words. If your parents had waited to hand over the inn, why wouldn’t they have given it all to you? They drew up the contract when you were upset about being left in charge.

  The time had come to demonstrate who was best suited to own the Wayfair.

  As if there was any doubt.

  Thirty minutes later, she’d donned a sedate dress and steely resolve. The empty lobby glowed in golden light. Behind the front desk, Mr. Uchida dozed.

  Leaning across the desk, Linnie poked him. His dark eyes snapped open, and she said, “Call up to Jada’s and Cat’s rooms. Tell them to meet me in the office at eight sharp.” She moved off, reconsidered. Retracing her steps, she asked, “Why do you split your workweek between third and first shifts? Rotating between two shifts keeps you sleep deprived.”

  Mr. Uchida palmed his chin. “Cat makes the schedule. I work when she says.”

  “Have a preference?”

  His gaze brightened. “First shift.”

  “Give me a few days to set it up.” She’d hire someone younger to work third, or alternate between two people.

  Happy with the decision, she waltzed to the kitchen. Sunlight arced through the windows. Pots clattered in the sink. Fragrant mounds of herbs nestled in tidy rows on the butcher block. By the stove, the day cook and several of his assistants were discussing the breakfast menu.

  Calling the staff to attention, Linnie explained a few regulars were needed for Saturday night. Anyone willing to skip Silvia and Marco’s anniversary bash would receive time and a half. Many of the staff members had families. They might skip the party in trade for a bigger paycheck. Besides, she refused to leave the Wayfair in the untested hands of Freddie’s temp agency hires.

  Ellis Leavey was the first to raise his hand. The raven-haired cook—considered the resident “hot body” by most of the female staff—sent his stern regard across the kitchen. A heartening number of his staff followed suit.

  “I owe you one,” she told him.

  Ellis grinned. “I won’t forget.”

  She turned to the holdouts. “Anyone else?”

  One more employee volunteered. Not the best outcome, but good enough.

  Entering her office, she jotted a note to make the same offer to the kitchen’s dinner staff, as well as the waitstaff.

  Five minutes later, Jada and Cat walked in. Jada, appearing fully awake in jeans and a blouse, leaned against the bookshelves. Stifling a yawn, Cat flopped into a chair before the desk. She’d pulled on jeans and a top, but had forgotten shoes. Purple nail polish gleamed on her toes.

  Producing a rubber band, she pulled her long, wavy hair into a ponytail. “What’s up?” She flung her legs over the arm of the chair.

  On the desk Linnie folded her hands. “We’re making changes, starting today. Cat, get in touch with your friend, the one with the ad agency in Cincinnati. Work up a campaign—print, digital, the works. When did we last update our Facebook page? Also get a quote on updating our website. We’ll start advertising in tandem with the renovations.”

  “What renovations?”

  She explained about the liquor boxes stuffed full of cash. Cat’s full lips released a burst of air. Jada, in mute shock, listed like a ship unmoored.

  Beaming, Cat wiggled her toes. “You’re not spineless or gutless,” she breathed. “You’re rich.”

  “Hardly. Have any idea how much work the inn requires?”

  The realities of hospitality management coasted past her dream-addled friend. “Bali,” Cat murmured. “We’ll go, just the three of us. Swim in the ocean and find hot bodies on the beach. Let’s run away forever.”

  The comment nudged Jada from her stupor. She smacked Cat on the side of the head, drawing a yelp. “We’re not running away to Bali. There’s work to do.” Taking a seat, she regarded Linnie. “Freddie returned all the money?”

  “And then some.”

  “Did he explain why he waited so long?”

  “Getting a straight answer from a toddler is easier than extracting the truth from my brother.”

  Jada grunted in agreement. “The washers and dryers are shot,” she said. “Housekeeping will throw flowers at your feet if you replace them. I’ll get quotes.”

  “Would you also look into an overhaul of heating and cooling in the south wing? No one local can handle a job this big. Talk to companies farther afield.”

  Ever sensible, Jada tempered the excitement in her voice. “You’re thinking about reopening the south wing?”

  Cat rubbed the side of her head where Jada had smacked her awake. “If guests occupy the rooms, where will we live? I don’t like sleeping in long johns in summer, but my suite is roomy—and rent-free.”

  Linnie chuckled. “If we’re pulling decent wages, we’ll rent apartments. There’s no rule that we must live on the grounds.”

  Her heart lifting, she recalle
d Daniel’s question. He’d looked so earnest when asking if she liked his house. Waking up in his arms, sharing the evenings cuddling on his couch with Puddles at their feet—the notion was tempting.

  And marriage? Later they’d talk about forevers. No sense jinxing the chance for happiness by jumping in too quickly.

  A more urgent concern—dealing with Saturday’s unexpected visit.

  Would the plans for major renovations impress her mother? A tough call. Sarah wasn’t easily impressed. She was more apt to forgo presents and pack her luggage full of criticism.

  Jada caught the worry flickering across her face. “This is all thrilling, but I have the impression you’re leaving something out. Care to share?”

  “Freddie called Mother.”

  Jada shrugged. “Men call their mothers. So what?”

  “She’s flying in on the red-eye Friday night. Only staying through Saturday afternoon. Long enough to reason with me. Or, in her words, let me break her heart in person.”

  “That’s bad.”

  “Gosh, you think?”

  “You pressed the case for sole ownership?”

  “Conducting a reasonable conversation was a no-go. She started crying.”

  Glumly Cat shook her head. “No offense, Linnie. Chinese water torture is less effective than your mother’s tears. She should work for a government antiterrorism unit. She can get anyone to roll over. What did she talk you into this time?”

  The question raised Linnie’s defenses. “I didn’t snap under pressure, all right?

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll reason with her when she arrives. Doesn’t matter if she weeps throughout. I won’t buckle.”

  “You always do.”

  “This is different. I’ve never told her how much I care about the inn. An oversight. I didn’t expect Freddie to show up after all this time. Why does he want to hold on to his shares? They’re meaningless to him.”

  “This isn’t about his shares. He likes driving you to the brink of insanity,” Cat supplied confidently. “You’ve never been close. When we were kids, you mothered him constantly. Kept his bedroom tidy so your dad wouldn’t blow his stack, kept his book bag organized—he didn’t like your meddling. Which probably explains why he likes making you squirm. Remember the time he tied you to a chair and made you eat brussels sprouts?”

  The slimy veggies remained one of Linnie’s most despised foods. “Not a high point of childhood,” she agreed with a shudder, “and not a fair fight. How’s a second grader supposed to take on a demon in sixth? This time, I’m ready to rumble.”

  Jada said, “The renovations . . . there’s no guarantee a schedule of improvements will sway your mother. You’re taking a big gamble.”

  “Hey, weren’t you the one who suggested I talk to my parents?”

  “Talk, not throw tons of money into the Wayfair. Freddie still owns half. Besides, I gave the advice before learning your mother is coming in. If she’s worried you’ll break her heart, she’s using Mom Code. She wants her children to mend their differences.”

  “No problem. If Freddie sells, I’ll patch things up.” Not really, but she didn’t like where Jada was headed with this.

  “Get real. She’s hopping the red-eye for one reason only. All your big plans for the Wayfair won’t matter a damn.”

  Defiance fired Linnie’s voice. “We’re moving forward with the changes. For once I have enough money to make a real difference. I refuse to wait.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that.” Jada’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Nothing about this is fair. I’m betting your mother will guilt-trip you into staying in charge while insisting Freddie stay in the picture. Are you sure she won’t?”

  Frustrated, Linnie chewed on her lip. No, she wasn’t sure.

  Chapter 14

  The second meeting with the Stillwells proved more difficult than the first.

  An angry vein pulsed in Duke Stillwell’s neck. Carol, handling their supposedly amicable divorce no better, repeated her demands. The list included full custody of their daughters with only supervised bi-monthly visitation for Duke. Seated ramrod straight, she refused to look at the man with whom she’d spent the better part of twenty years.

  Daniel retreated into a gloomy silence. A small-town lawyer was a jack-of-all-trades. Some work was fascinating, other cases simple. The only work he despised was divorce proceedings. No one came out a winner. Children lost the most, especially if their normally civil parents refused to compromise. He feared the Stillwells’ three daughters would fare no better than most.

  The couple resumed bickering, and Daniel stole a glance at his cell. For days he’d been trying to reach Linnie. With the Mendozas’ anniversary bash slated for tomorrow, she was undoubtedly busy.

  Earlier in the week, on the drive back from the Devlin Institute, he’d struck on a pleasant idea. Why not ask Linnie to accompany him to the party? A dozen red roses waited at the local florist shop for Saturday morning pickup. He’d present them with the dangly gold earrings that caught his eye in a jewelry store in Cleveland.

  Rising to their feet, the Stillwells came perilously close to shrieking at each other. Breaking in, he said, “There’s something I like to tell clients when they find themselves in your unfortunate circumstance. Care to hear?”

  Carol pulled on her earlobe, mottling the skin. Duke frowned.

  “You have three beautiful daughters,” Daniel said. “Odds are good they’ll choose to marry someday. Which means you’ll become grandparents—together. Divorce won’t change the facts. You’ll remain a family.”

  The throbbing vein in Duke’s neck relaxed. Carol released her ear.

  In a firmer voice, Daniel added, “Do yourselves a favor. Go home. Make a list of demands. Separate lists, and be reasonable. At our next meeting, we’ll sort through them to find middle ground.”

  Carol produced a tissue from her purse. “And if we don’t compromise?”

  “Then I’m sorry to say you’ll each need a lawyer specializing in divorce. I only handle amicable cases. Bear in mind lengthy negotiations come with high legal bills. With your daughters nearing college, it’s something to keep in mind.”

  Relieved to bring the meeting to an end, he escorted them out. He paused at Kay’s desk on his way back.

  “When does Joel Klein arrive?” A retired mechanical engineer, Joel was amending his will to include a new daughter-in-law.

  Kay checked the calendar. “Three o’clock today.”

  “Great. I have time to head out to the inn.”

  “To ask Linnie in person?”

  He grunted. “Think I should give her the roses early?”

  “Save them for tomorrow.” Kay regarded him with motherly concern. “Don’t come on too strong. She has a lot on her mind. Unlikely romance is a top priority. And for heaven’s sake, if you see Freddie, don’t argue if she’s within spitting distance.”

  Kay understood his upset over Freddie ducking out of the visit after Bryce’s surgery. “I’ll wait to read Freddie the riot act. He’s back in California until the weekend. Something about a problem with the script for his next film.”

  “He’s returning for Silvia’s party?”

  “I still have trouble believing she invited him.”

  “Who wouldn’t? Freddie insisted on footing the bill. Wait until you see the outfits he sprang for. I hear Linnie’s is quite stunning.”

  Curious about what she’d wear Saturday night, Daniel took to the road that wove around the lake at a leisurely pace. The breeze tickled his face as his thoughts returned to romance. He looked forward to dancing with Linnie in her pretty gown.

  Pinkish-white clouds floated across the sky. Sunlight threw diamond brilliance on the lake. The beach swarmed with tourists. The Mendozas had chosen the date for their anniversary party well. The forecast called for temps in the eighties with no chance of rain.

  In the busy lobby of the Wayfair, Jada handed a room key to the young couple at the fro
nt of the line. Silvia and Marco both came from large families, with relatives driving in from across Ohio. From the looks of the crowd, every room was booked.

  Spotting Daniel in the crush, Jada said, “Check her office. She’s buried in swatches. Prepare to offer an opinion. She can’t decide.”

  Daniel hurried through the lobby. Swatches?

  Jada’s meaning became clear when he entered the office. Before the wall of bookcases sat a long table scavenged from the Sunshine Room. Books of fabric swatches and larger catalogs of wallpaper covered the surface. Linnie’s desk was equally cluttered. Notepads filled with her familiar cursive shared space with neatly labeled folders. At the window, she stared absently at the brilliant blue day while finishing a call.

  Hanging up, she came around the desk to greet him. Her steps were buoyant. Taking advantage of her high spirits, he steered her into his arms.

  He kissed her deeply. She returned the kiss without hesitation, her lips tasting of the excitement she seemed keen to share. Setting her free, he grinned. “I can’t recall the last time I saw you this happy.” He inspected the table of swatches. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m getting together quotes and design samples for the south wing.” She picked up a paint card he hadn’t noticed. “Also getting bids from painters—the lobby is dreary, and half of the suites in the main section need perking up. Cat suggested I hire a decorator. I’d rather do this myself.”

  The disappointment he should’ve felt refused to materialize. “You aren’t following my advice about waiting until Freddie is out of the picture?”

  She eyed him playfully. “Sorry, Counselor. The once-conservative manager of the Wayfair is forging ahead. I have the funds to proceed, and I’m tired of acting like the caretaker of a dying enterprise.”

  “The Wayfair isn’t dying. Didn’t you reach breakeven last winter? You’ve turned the corner.” Her good mood held other perks. She’d done up her hair. The heavy locks nestled in a loose chignon at the base of her neck. He imagined the pleasure of loosing each strand while placing lingering kisses on her neck. “This isn’t like you. Plowing ahead with work on the main inn and the south wing—you never jump into action without careful thought.”