Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1)

by Christine Nolfi

  Jada paused on the stairwell. “I didn’t tell Mrs. Wayfair . . .”

  “That I’m stopping by?” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Frances chuckled. Leaving the unexpected visit a surprise was an artful ploy. “Don’t worry. I’ve been close with Sarah since before you were born. I won’t make her late for her lunch date with Linnie.”

  The corridor, usually quiet on a typical Saturday, brimmed with chatter. Luggage sat in rows by the walls. Families checking in jingled room keys and corralled children, many of whom were undoubtedly eager to get down to the beach.

  Jada said, “She’s in room 117.”

  Count on Sarah to demand a corner suite during the Wayfair’s busiest weekend of the year. “I’ll take it from here.” Frances gently nudged her nervous companion toward the stairwell. “You have more important matters requiring your attention.”

  Jada required no more urging. She retraced her path to the lobby.

  On the third knock, Sarah opened the door. The terrycloth robe enveloping her trim figure seemed two sizes too large, and Frances quickly made the connection. One of Linnie’s robes. Had Sarah’s luggage missed the flight?

  “Frances.” Sarah donned a questioning look. “I thought we agreed there wasn’t time to visit. I do wish I were staying longer.”

  “I won’t keep you long.”

  An invitation to enter wasn’t extended. Frances didn’t care—she breezed past.

  The door rattled shut.

  “How’s Treat?” Two chairs formed a cozy group, and she chose the one closest to the window. “Still driving you to distraction?”

  An old joke, and some of the misgiving left Sarah’s eyes. “Freddie bought us a dog, which helps keep Treat out of my hair. The stroke has slowed him down, but he still has more energy than the rest of us combined.”

  “I hope he can visit us soon.”

  “He misses the inn and all our friends.” Sarah crossed the room to perch on the edge of the second chair. “Why do I have the impression you aren’t stopping by to catch up?”

  “Because I’m not. I’m concerned about your children.”

  “My children are fine.” The statement carried a protective edge. “Freddie has finally returned—a relief for Treat and me both. We’ve been wondering if he’d reach middle age before showing an interest in his inheritance.”

  The comment revealed such insensitivity to Linnie’s wishes, to her hard-earned rights, that Frances held her tongue until the anger left her blood. Pointedly, she said, “You have two children. Don’t they both have a stake in the inn?”

  “Yes, but my son is in charge.”

  An absurd notion, but she let it pass. “Did he lead you to believe he’s returned to begin working at the inn?”

  “Not in so many words. He does have his film company. I assume he’ll wind down that hobby before moving home permanently.”

  “He’s done well in California. I’m not sure I’d characterize his work as a hobby.” More silence, and Frances steeled herself for what would come next. “Sarah, he isn’t here for the inn. He’s in Ohio for another purpose—one he won’t reveal. And while I’d never dream of meddling in your affairs, I do wish to point out that there’s more at stake than the future ownership of the Wayfair.”

  Sarah threw back her shoulders, her features brittle. “I suppose you feel compelled to set me straight?”

  She did, but the task was a thankless one. Like many families, the Wayfairs had frayed the cords of love that bound them together by withholding forgiveness or making unreasonable demands—or, as in Sarah’s case, by refusing to acknowledge the abundant gifts each of her children possessed. She clung to tradition, and it blinded her. If she couldn’t see her children for the adults they’d become, she’d lose out on the love they yearned to give.

  Which was a secondary consideration to the fear weighing down on Frances as she said, “Sarah, you and Treat have lost sight of the only real inheritance any of us leaves to our children. However you choose to dispense with the inn, you must stop setting your children at odds. You’ve made them competitors.”

  Bitter tears welled in Sarah’s eyes. “You’re mistaken.”

  Upsetting her was regrettable, but Frances pressed on. “None of us lives forever,” she pointed out. “You won’t, and nor will Treat. Once you’re gone, Linnie and Freddie will only have each other.” For emphasis, she stretched out the moment. “If their relationship breaks, each will lose something immeasurable.”

  Cradling the phone on her shoulder, Kay stopped Daniel from leaving the office. He walked the client to the reception area, then retraced his steps.

  “I’ll tell him,” Kay said, hanging up.

  “A problem?” Not another salvo from the Stillwells, he decided. They were still negotiating the finer points of their divorce.

  “Jada’s trying to reach you.”

  Sheepishly he pulled out his smartphone. “Forgot to charge it this morning.” He’d rushed out early to pick up the flowers for Linnie and his best suit at the dry cleaner.

  Kay glanced at the calendar. “Were you supposed to pick up Fancy?”

  “Going there now. She’s playing at a friend’s house.” He’d promised Philip to deliver her home before dressing for the party. Philip planned to attend the bash after the babysitter arrived and Fancy went to bed.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll collect Fancy.” Kay’s expression was grim. “Do you have tennis shoes in the car?”

  He stowed a pair in the trunk for impromptu walks with Puddles. “Do I need them?”

  “Linnie disappeared into the woods. Changed into shorts and tromped out.” At his questioning look, Kay added, “Her mother came in.”

  “Sarah’s visiting?”

  “Only here long enough to see Linnie. On her way back to the airport now. According to Jada, Linnie seemed fine when the limousine departed.”

  “Not likely. The inn must be a madhouse with guests checking in and deliveries showing up for the party. She’s not in the habit of shirking duties.”

  “Jada and Cat are taking care of the deliveries and helping the kitchen staff prep for the banquet. They’d like you to run down the boss.”

  He gave a quelling look. “The next time there’s a crisis, barge into my office. I don’t care how important the meeting—just get me.”

  On the road leading past the inn, families in bathing suits and shorts strolled in the sunlight.

  Several of the faces were familiar. Relatives of Silvia or Marco, the newcomers were taking advantage of the beach and the water sports available on Sweet Lake before the night’s festivities in the ballroom. Daniel parked away from the crowds, near the forest. Hurrying, he shrugged out of his suit coat, then pulled off his tie. The sun, pouring heat on the lake, beat down on his shoulders.

  From the trunk, he grabbed tennis shoes. The wind kicked up, snapping beach towels on the sand.

  With relief, he trudged into the forest’s cooling shade. Birdsong carried in the trees.

  “Linnie?”

  Soft grooves from a thousand feet pocked the main path leading into the shadows. The trees grew dense. Thick limbs cradled the sky with a webwork of shivering leaves. Following a hunch, he took a secondary path toward the trickling melody of the ravine. Down a steep incline, he spotted Linnie perched on a boulder by the stream.

  “Hey, stranger.”

  “Daniel.” She tried to smile, failed. “You’re early for our date.”

  “Don’t worry—I won’t show up in tennis shoes. Just thought I’d stop by.” Sitting beside her, he took care to keep his voice light. “Aren’t you hosting a party tonight? I’m betting you have better uses for your time than a hike in the woods.”

  “I should get back.” Puffing out her cheeks, she released a sigh fraught with despair. “Needed to sort myself out first.”

  “You’re all right?”

  “Not yet. Working on it.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “I can think of somethi
ng.”

  The breeze lifted her face. Boldly she allowed her gaze to drink him in without reservation.

  A blatant appraisal. Daniel wasn’t sure what he’d expected—anger, a crying jag, or the need for one of his countless “chin up” speeches. Not this.

  Tossing aside propriety, she slid beneath his obliging arm and pressed her palm to his thigh. When he claimed her lips with slow, steady passion, she whimpered against his mouth.

  The proof of her need stoked his surging emotions. Without conscious thought he drew her to her feet to better allow his hands to range freely across her back. She wasn’t merely pliable in his arms. She met each caress with desire bordering on frenzy, her tongue dueling with his, her fingers dragging across the shuddering muscles of his chest.

  He pulled away. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured gruffly.

  She ruffled the coarse hair skimming the tops of his ears. “I do feel reckless.” Worry flickered across her face. “Do you mind?”

  “Linnie, I spend most of my free time inventing ways to seduce you.” But not in plain sight, he reflected. If they took this much further, they’d make love right here in the forest.

  She pressed her mouth to his jaw. The fragrance of her hair filled his nostrils, an alluring blend of dusky roses and musk. A new perfume? It suited her. Breathing in the unabashedly feminine scent, he closed his eyes. Dimly he became aware of her hands sliding over his ribcage, testing the warm ridges of flesh, sensing the accelerating thrum of his pulse. An exploration he thoroughly enjoyed until her fingers crept beneath the tight leather of his belt.

  On instinct, he stilled the movement before she went too far.

  With a start, he opened his eyes. Everything about her behavior rang false. Sure, his male ego craved the notion that she found him irresistible. But she wasn’t the type of woman to initiate sex on a whim. He took stock of her face, searching for clues.

  This wasn’t merely a reckless mood. There was more going on here.

  Following a hunch, he asked, “How was the visit with your mother?”

  “Who told you she was here?”

  “Kay spoke with Jada. They asked me to find you.” He rubbed his nose across hers, savoring the silken texture of her skin. “Sarah doesn’t usually jump on a flight for an afternoon visit. What did she want?”

  “Oh, the usual. For me to lose ten pounds and get my hair styled.” A shadow crossed her face. “My obedience in all matters pertaining to the family legacy.”

  “You mentioned the renovations?”

  Impatience creased the corners of Linnie’s mouth. “They didn’t change her mind about the contract. She wants me to carry on, but only until Freddie buys me out. I’m playing the role of stand-in until he’s tired of filmmaking.”

  It was astonishing how poorly the Wayfairs understood their son. “Freddie loves his work. Strange villains in outer space and fantasy adventures under the sea. Do they actually think he’ll quit?”

  “Oh, not right away.” She slipped her hands free of his hold. Considering, she made slow circles on his shirt. “The weird part? My mother explained how my father pulled the same stunt—took off when he was young. Apparently he wanted nothing to do with the inheritance. He dreamt of becoming an Impressionist painter. Isn’t that odd? He even spent a summer in Paris.”

  “Treat planned a career as an artist?”

  The notion bordered on the bizarre. Her father was composed of stark lines and sharp edges. Nothing in his personality hinted at the softer attributes necessary for an artist. It was easier to imagine him choosing work in corporate negotiations or as a drill sergeant.

  She read the incredulity on his face. “I’m not making this up,” she assured him. “My father spent a summer painting landscapes, which is why my parents took Freddie’s behavior in stride. I’ve always wondered why they weren’t shocked when he took the money, why they forgave so easily. It never made sense.”

  “They won’t rethink the inheritance?”

  “Not a chance. My success running the Wayfair, small as it’s been, doesn’t factor in. I’m sure they’ve never debated if I’m better suited.”

  “You don’t have to take this.” He marshaled a list of options. “Let’s fight them in court. It’s one thing to demand obedience from your children, quite another to press your interests during a legal proceeding.”

  “You’re shooting in the dark. I signed the contract. I agreed to the terms.”

  “You signed under duress and without legal counsel.”

  “I should’ve read the whole document.”

  “True, and judges don’t like cases like yours. Not much grey area, and you were old enough to understand the nature of the agreement you’d entered into. All of which may prove immaterial. The threat of legal action may be enough. Call your parents’ bluff. See if they fold.”

  “Daniel, the contract is clear. If I don’t play by the rules, my shares revert to the estate. A bluff won’t change anything.”

  “Then we argue for a settlement based on years of service and fair market value for your portion of the Wayfair. Or we simplify matters further and sue for lost wages. Given your responsibilities as general manager, your salary should near six figures. Aren’t you the lowest-paid employee on staff? You deserve compensation.”

  She rested her cheek on his chest. “You’re asking me to go to war with my family?”

  He cupped the nape of her neck. “Is there a choice?” Treat and Sarah insisted on rigging the game. To Daniel’s mind, they’d never see reason without the threat of a lawsuit. “Your parents assume you’ll follow their directives because you have in the past. It’s time to demonstrate you’re playing by new rules.”

  The slightest tremor rippled down her spine. A fan of lashes hid her eyes as she drifted out of his embrace. Far above, the breeze jostled the leaves before dying down, leaving a pregnant stillness. In the green light dappling the shade, Linnie appeared small, defenseless.

  Daniel nursed his own worries. Had the conversation with her mother undermined Linnie in some vital way?

  Gingerly she stepped to the edge of the creek. “I won’t tear my family apart.” Her voice sank into the gurgling waters.

  “There’s nothing wrong with standing up for your rights.”

  “No, Daniel. They won’t grasp why I’m forcing them to change, and it’ll hurt them.”

  Impatience jolted through him. “Then walk away. Find a new career.”

  The suggestion started her eyes flashing. “What about the years invested in the Wayfair? Should I pretend they don’t matter? Toss them out like yesterday’s garbage and move on?”

  The switch from passion to anger was unsettling. But understandable. Given the bind her parents had put her in, she needed to lash out. Only a fool would take the bait.

  “If you enjoy hospitality management, put your skills to use at a national chain. Hilton, Marriott, Sheraton—take your pick,” he said reasonably. “A dozen first-rate hotels would gladly hire a woman with your résumé. For years, you’ve managed an inn singlehandedly. Brought the enterprise back from the brink of bankruptcy, proven your mettle.”

  The compliments didn’t erase the obstinacy from her expression. “In case you haven’t noticed, none of the major chains put hotels in a town the size of Sweet Lake,” she said. “I’d have to move to Columbus or Cincinnati. Pull up roots, start over.”

  “You wouldn’t start over alone. You’d have me.”

  His sincerity moved her heart into her throat. “Daniel, I’m not ready to talk about forevers. You shouldn’t be either.” She glanced at him, hoping for understanding. He looked at her, unblinking. “We’ll start dating and see where it leads. That’s how couples begin—they date and hold off on the heavy stuff until later.”

  “What if I don’t want to hold off?”

  At the bullish light entering his eyes, she pressed her fingers to her temples. “I can’t do this right now.” Frustrated, she nodded in the direction of the inn. She tried g
rounding her emotions, but the frustration welling inside her was too strong. Needing to release it, she added, “Why do you keep pushing me? I just sat through an incredibly difficult meeting with my mother, and I’m about to begin service for two hundred guests in the ballroom. I’ve also got other guests at the inn, but they’re getting short shrift tonight. Please, Daniel. Can you just wait?”

  Oddly, he didn’t answer directly. He didn’t acknowledge her outburst at all.

  “You’re giving up on getting control of the inn?” he asked, his eyes hooded. “You can’t reason with your parents, but you can’t leave the Wayfair either. What exactly did Sarah tell you? I’m merely curious. I never thought you’d surrender without a fight.”

  His words cut her deeply. She was still searching for a reply when he approached.

  “I need to know,” he said, and she shrank back from the bitterness overtaking his features. “Can you ever love me as much as a piece of real estate that’s caused you nothing but grief? The truth, Linnie. You’ve always rated second place with your parents. So tell me. Will I always rate second place with you?”

  Chapter 16

  Shrimp and chunks of ice skidded across the floor.

  Joggling on her crimson pumps, Linnie stepped out of danger without a moment to spare. The tattooed youth masquerading as a waiter stared numbly at the mess he’d made.

  At the stove, Ellis Leavey glanced heavenward for celestial intervention or, at minimum, the patience to avoid wringing the necks of the workers foisted on him for the evening. The cook rarely lost his cool. Losing five pounds of shellfish needed for shrimp cocktails might do the trick.

  The sous-chef who’d arrived with the rest of Freddie’s hires gave no reaction to the shrimp careening past her boots. She also turned a blind eye to Ellis’s glowering regard and the onions on the chopping block. The buxom redhead pecked out another text message, snickered, then read the reply. Linnie made a mental note to increase the cook’s salary for courage under fire. If he resorted to murder before the night was out, she’d back him up on a temporary insanity plea.