Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1)

by Christine Nolfi

“Because it is.” A sweet heaviness pulled in her chest. “Earlier today I asked Philip and his men to bring the necessary materials. I’ll patch up the loose boards and fix the holes in the roof. Nails, a glue gun—easy peasy.”

  “Why perform this amazing feat?”

  “Freddie, it’s your tree house,” she said, astonished by the need to explain. “You loved coming here when you were a kid.”

  “Still, this is an odd kindness,” he replied, impervious to her attempt to make amends. “You’ve been angry with me for years.”

  “I’m not angry now.”

  “You were. Whenever I tried to get in touch, you refused my calls. Marking my e-mail as spam was a particularly hostile move. I assumed you’d write to the governor of California next, ask him to put me on death row.”

  She laughed. “Now that’s a punishment I didn’t think of.”

  Abandoning him in the moonlight, she approached the tree. Eyes drifting shut, she settled her palms on the trunk. The scratchy texture bit at her skin. She wasn’t sure about carting energy around as the Sirens presumed, but she’d always respected the power of trees. She imagined the grand, outsize life force pulsing beneath her fingertips.

  His expression in flux, he appeared at her side. “I can’t deduce a logical reason why you’d repair my childhood sanctuary,” he muttered sulkily. “This makes no sense.”

  “A secret kindness.”

  “What?”

  “The Sirens have a practice . . . never mind.”

  He drew tall with wavering dignity. “Tell me why you’re doing this,” he demanded, and she caught the subtle change in the tone of his voice, the edgy filmmaker persona coming to the fore. “So unlike you, and an unnecessary gesture. Call the raccoons and let the forest take the shack. What do I care?”

  “C’mon, Freddie. You do care, and I don’t want to see the best part of your childhood fall apart,” she said, aiming past the façade to the child cradled underneath. “A boy’s greatest triumph and a marvel of inspired engineering. While you were putting this contraption together, I used to sneak out here to see what you’d added next.”

  The affection she offered drew him closer. “You followed me?”

  “You were my big brother.”

  “And your greatest tormentor.”

  The statement’s accuracy made her smile. She grew serious, asking, “How did you manage this? I’ve always wondered how you got the supplies past Dad.”

  The query put unmistakable pride in his eyes. “Stealth planning, at night. Remember the guy who worked third shift at the front desk? He retired before Dad’s stroke.”

  “Max? Wasn’t he Greek? No. Armenian.”

  “Albanian,” Freddie corrected. He warmed to his story. “I’d sneak out of bed in the wee hours, dig around for supplies in the oldest sections of the basement. Unbelievable the whatnots our ancestors left behind. I have a tin of letters written to our great-grandmother during the Roaring Twenties—remind me to show you sometime. Anyway, Max helped drag the supplies to the beach. Clapboards, a bundle of dowels, flooring left over from a renovation in the 1950s. He’d dump everything on the sand and leave me to carry on alone. I spent most of junior high putting this mess together.”

  “Not a mess. You did a good job.” He’d stepped back, presumably to entertain the notion of climbing up. The lack of artifice on his features, the genuine delight residing in his eyes, gave her the courage to say, “There’s something else I’ve been wondering about. Are your movies on Netflix? I’d like to catch a few.”

  “I knew it. You’re on hallucinogens.” He stared with mock horror. “Should I perform an intervention?”

  “I’m serious. I’d like to see your work.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I’d also like to offer an apology. Most of us don’t have the guts to dream, but you did. You took your vision and built something wonderful for thousands of people to enjoy.”

  “Millions, in time.” The tiny lines framing his eyes relaxed. “Watch and learn. I’m on the upswing.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  The compliment bestowed more sincerity than he appeared ready to accept. He lifted his attention to the starry night, but not before she glimpsed a flicker of warmth in his eyes.

  “Are we becoming friends, S—” He stopped from issuing the loathsome Sugarpop.

  “A good plan . . . assuming you’re not upset. You won’t like what I have to say.”

  “Here it comes.”

  Rhythmically she swung the flashlight’s beam across the mossy ground, needing to occupy her nervous hands. She’d only come to the decision yesterday, on the drive back from Medina. Meeting Bryce and gaining an appreciation of Freddie’s artistry, the accident with Daniel and Fancy—the crush of unpredictable events had steered her heart to what matters. Family, love, and the forgiveness she owed not only Freddie, but also her parents. She wouldn’t waste another day nursing her bruised pride. She didn’t have to like their choices.

  She wasn’t obligated to live by their dictates either.

  Before second thoughts might stop her, she withdrew the envelope from her sweater. “I’m giving notice,” she got out, stuffing the envelope into his fist. Recalling Frances’s remark about her lack of spontaneity, she added, “I was planning to give a month’s notice, but what the hell. Mom and Dad want you to have the Wayfair, so consider me out of your hair. I’m gone in two weeks.”

  His attention jogged from the envelope to her. “You’re surrendering your shares?”

  “Effective immediately.” Never had she chosen an unpredictable course of action, and her brother’s astonishment made her giddy. “Should I call the ’rents, or do you want the honor?”

  “We’re not calling Florida. You aren’t quitting.”

  “Want me to stay? Then tell Mom and Dad you’re out completely unless I receive majority ownership. Tell them you’ll return your shares to the estate if they don’t agree with our plan.”

  A mulish light entered his eyes. “Resorting to the subterfuge of repairing my beloved tree house, softening me up—the webs you weave, Sugarpop.”

  “One has nothing to do with the other. I’m fixing up your childhood sanctuary even if we can’t come to terms.”

  “Well, we can’t. I’m not giving you majority control.”

  She smiled through her sorrow. “All right,” she conceded. “I’m gone in two weeks.”

  “Fine—go. But what, may I ask, am I supposed to do? Manage the ancestral home from the Great Victoria Desert? I leave for Australia in six weeks!”

  The gambit had failed, but the loss wasn’t total. There was time still to repair their relationship.

  “Freddie, I’m staying in Sweet Lake. If you have problems at the inn, I’ll pop over to give advice,” she offered. “Hire someone with experience in hospitality management. If you bring in an unemployed actor to ‘channel’ the role, I won’t lend a hand.”

  He began pacing, his blond locks silvered in the moonlight. “This is unfathomable. You love the inn. How can you leave?” Rolling to a standstill, he scoured her face with confusion.

  “Aren’t you pleased?”

  “I’m not, damn you. We’ve been running a perfectly adequate script since I dumped the inn on your shoulders and left for California. This is utterly out of character. Who am I if not the evil brother?”

  His distress edged a smile onto her lips. “You’re not evil, Freddie. Self-absorbed, irritating, careless—why don’t you treat people better? Free ball gowns are nice, but common decency is better.”

  He swatted away the sincere advice. “Why change? I’ve been typecast for years. Mother sees through the façade, but you and Dad wrote me off long before I took the money and left for California.” He toyed with the tips of his mustache. “I like the role,” he admitted. “The fiery rebel of the Wayfair clan.”

  “Find a better role.”

  “We’ll see.” He began tearing open the envelope. His courage evidently fleeing, he tried handing
it back instead. “I won’t allow you to surrender your shares.”

  She waved him off. “Like you can stop me.”

  “Another cheap ploy.” Rallying, he added, “Fine, Linnie. I’ll call your bluff. Want to leave? I’ll have Jada installed in your job in precisely two weeks.”

  “Sorry, big brother. She doesn’t want the job. Cat, either, if that’s your next move.”

  The bravado left his face. “Then you’re bluffing. This must be a bluff.” Desperation laced his voice. “What’s happened to your dreary, responsible nature?”

  She gave him a quick hug. “Two weeks,” she repeated. “Better cancel your flight. You can’t leave until you find a new manager.”

  Freddie opened and closed his mouth like a guppy tossed from the ocean. Doing a secret kindness felt good. No matter how events shook out, she’d repair his tree house—and she’d given him a dose of strong medicine by forcing him to acknowledge he needed her at the helm.

  Sticking up for herself? That felt even better.

  She gave him a peck on the cheek, then sauntered out of the forest.

  Daniel asked, “Did you get the mess straightened out? Kay said you lost most of the July reservations during the system crash.”

  Avoiding his attentive gaze, Linnie finished straightening the blanket across his chest. Concocting a cover story to hide Monday’s trip to Medina wasn’t the smartest move, and she felt more than a little guilty. Yesterday she’d only visited for a short while because the painkillers the doctors prescribed had made it difficult for Daniel to keep his eyes open. He was much more alert today.

  There was the additional problem of Freddie—what if he lodged a complaint with his attorney? Quickly she discarded the possibility. After last night’s conversation in the forest, he was more apt to brood in isolation while considering his options—scramble to find her replacement, or back down and hand over majority control. Unlikely that blowing her cover was at the top of his agenda.

  “We lost tons of data,” she improvised. “Luckily Mr. Uchida prints out each reservation the moment it comes in. Cat helped input the list.”

  “All the data’s restored?”

  “Took hours, but they got everything done.”

  She’d just dragged a chair to the side of his bed when her cell phone buzzed.

  Her mother.

  “Mom, hello. Thanks for returning my call. No, nothing special. Just wanted to hear if you and Dad are managing with the new puppy. Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m glad the trainer is working out . . .”

  Over the next five minutes, she listened to the trials and successes concerning the puppy. Midway through the call, her father got on to regale her with the list of tricks he’d taught Lucy. Not once during the conversation did she mention work or the notice she’d given Freddie.

  A salient bit of news she hadn’t yet shared with Daniel either.

  She hung up to find him gaping in puzzlement. “You called your parents to chat?”

  An unexpected twinge of pride drifted through her. “I sure did.”

  “You are making changes.”

  “More than you know.” He arched a brow, and she rushed on. “Last night I gave Freddie my resignation. A crazy gamble, but one I don’t regret.” She covered the high points of the conversation, adding, “He insisted he won’t agree to my terms, but we’ll see. As of this morning, he still hasn’t flown back to California.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “You gave notice, just like that? Definitely not like you.”

  “I’m trying my hand at spontaneity. Follow the bold impulse, and logic be damned.”

  “I’ve never thought of you as spontaneous.”

  “Time to revise your thinking.”

  “Happy to do so.” Concern filtered through his gaze as he asked, “How’d your staff take the news?”

  She felt her shoulders creeping higher, to her ears. “I’m not telling them, at least not until Freddie decides his next move.”

  “They have the right to know if the boss is heading out the door.”

  “I’m not leaving—at least I hope not.”

  “Linnie, you have to stop holding your employees at arm’s length. You’ve kept them at a distance ever since you were forced to lay off half the staff. Stop underestimating their affection. They care about you. They’ll take it hard if Freddie calls your bluff.”

  Did she keep the staff at a distance? Unsure, she remarked, “Sometimes you give the impression you know me better than I know myself.”

  “Maybe I do.” He rested his hand on hers.

  “Well, let’s hope I won’t need to upset the staff. If there’s ever a time for my brother to grow a brain, this is it. He should back down. I am willing to let him keep a hand in the business.”

  Daniel looked unconvinced. “You’re asking a lot. He must return his shares to the trust, forcing your parents to give you control. Then he must trust you to return a portion of his shares. What are you aiming for?”

  “I’ll give him thirty percent,” she supplied, hating the doubt clouding his eyes. A real blow to her confidence. Determined to stay optimistic, she added, “I did tell Jada and Cat about my gamble. They agree—threatening to leave is the only move left. They promised not to tell the staff. However, since Cat’s aware of the situation, I’m sure the Sirens have learned all the gory details. Maybe they’ll hold a special meeting, conjure positive vibes so good fortune smiles on me.”

  Daniel shook his head in bemusement. “I’m sure they’ll applaud your gambling spirit. If this works, remind me to take you to Vegas.”

  “Guess I’ll know soon if I’m holding all the aces.”

  “Might be, if your brother hasn’t checked out of the inn.”

  “Nope. Still hiding behind locked doors.”

  “Knowing Freddie, he’ll brood for days. Stay in his room, pray this is all a bad dream.”

  She didn’t care if he did. Taking the gamble was exhilarating and somehow freeing. High on the emotion, she followed an equally bold impulse, saying, “Speaking of changes, I’ve been thinking about something else.”

  Daniel chuckled. “This must be a doozy. You’re inching your shoulders toward your ears. A big giveaway that you’re nervous.”

  She tried to relax. “About us.” The casual note she attempted failed, and she added quickly, “Why don’t I move in with you? I know this is fast, but mostly I can’t wait to wake up every morning in your arms.”

  Obviously he didn’t trust his ears. His jaw grew slack as his brows lifted to his hairline.

  “You don’t need to think about it?” he asked. “Draw up a list of pros and cons, anything like that?”

  His surprise wasn’t unexpected given that she wasn’t in the habit of making snap decisions. Then again, she’d made quite a few lately.

  She kissed his cheek. “Daniel, I’ve been scared about making the leap, rushing in too fast. After everything that’s happened recently . . . living together just feels right.”

  A sweet astonishment glazed his features. “How ’bout we start today?”

  Daniel’s comment about Freddie brooding proved accurate. During the next days, he roosted in his suite as the members of his entourage checked out, one by one. The hostile Lexie was the last to go. On a sunny Friday morning she thumped her suitcase down the stairwell in thigh-high boots and a leather jacket. The jacket had “Hell’s Angels” embroidered on the back in angry red stitching.

  From the veranda, she flipped Linnie the bird. Linnie resisted the urge to respond in kind.

  Behind the lobby desk, Mr. Uchida did not show equal restraint.

  At the Wayfair, Lexie’s eccentric boss remained behind, stewing in his suite and slipping out late at night after Linnie drove home to Daniel’s place. Whether Freddie spent the hours interviewing potential managers for the inn or hooking up with women in out-of-the-way bars was anyone’s guess.

  Obsessing about her brother’s decision wouldn’t affect the outcome, so Linnie kept her thoughts focused on
the positive changes in her world. Daniel returned home from the hospital. As she packed up her belongings in the south wing, the stack of boxes in his living room grew in size; in the evenings, Jada and Cat helped unpack and sort. In equal parts, her closest friends mourned losing her company for late-night chats and celebrated the start of her new life with Daniel.

  On Saturday night, Frances called to inquire if the recuperating patient was well enough for a barbecue the following day, compliments of the Sirens. Linnie suspected the offer wasn’t just about Daniel—no doubt the women thought the get-together would keep her occupied as she awaited Freddie’s impending decision. The gesture was appreciated, and she suggested holding the festivities in Daniel’s backyard.

  Jada offered to skip the affair. She agreed to work the evening shift at the Wayfair instead.

  On Sunday afternoon, the crowd began gathering for the cookout.

  Linnie waved as Tilda, among the last to arrive, came into the backyard. “I heard a rumor about a trick you’ve taught Puddles,” the realtor said of Daniel’s mutt. “What is it?”

  In the days since she’d moved in, Linnie had discovered Puddles cried out whenever her name was uttered. Seeing a dog in agony didn’t suit, and she’d hit upon a solution—teach the pooch a new trick.

  Silvia, ferrying steaks to her husband at the grill, looked up. “I’d also like to see the performance.”

  Cat giggled. “Kookiest trick I’ve ever seen.” She regarded Linnie, seated on the grass and ruffling Puddles’s ears. “Do it again.”

  From the grill, Cat’s father shook his head. “The dog’s tired,” Marco told his daughter. “Your mother needs help setting the picnic table. Why don’t you pitch in and stop making the poor mutt perform?”

  “But he loves performing!”

  Maneuvering carefully on crutches, Daniel came across the lawn. He exchanged amused glances with Linnie. “Once more,” he suggested. “Then we give Puddles dinner and call it a day.”

  Tilda bounced on her heels and clapped her hands. Her enthusiasm drew Frances and several other Sirens near. An air of anticipation surrounded the small crowd.

  Linnie whistled. In response, giddy anticipation shivered across the dog’s mop of fur.