Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1)

by Rosemary Hines

  “I wish I could help you, but I’m overloaded right now, and this case is out of my jurisdiction anyway. But I could recommend some good attorneys in your area,” Jeff replied, reaching for his iPad.

  He searched his contacts and jotted down two names and phone numbers. “Try these guys. They are both experts in corporate law; it just depends on who is available. Good attorneys are often backlogged with cases. Hopefully one will be able to fit you in.”

  Jeff gathered the papers together and slid them back into the envelope. “I’ve seen people get out of bigger messes than this. Just be prepared. Worst case scenario you’ll serve a couple of years and pay a stiff fine.”

  John nodded numbly and stood to his feet. Jeff walked around to the front of the desk and handed him the envelope, stretching his hand out to John. They shook hands, and John took the envelope and walked toward the door.

  “Let me know how it turns out,” Jeff said.

  “Yeah, okay. Hey, thanks for your time,” John said sincerely. He forced a smile and then left the office.

  Sylvia was not at the front desk. As he was leaving, she came back in from outside carrying the mail in one hand and some court dockets in another.

  “How’d it go?” she asked softly.

  “Not good,” was all he could say in reply.

  “I’m sorry, John. I’ll be praying for you.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” he said in a defeated tone as he left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Steve had meticulously packed the car, and they were ready to go. Michelle handed him a small cooler to take out to the car, filled with tasty treats like their favorite chicken salad sandwiches, apples, and miniature candy bars to munch on during the drive to the lake. Then she cuddled Max one last time, fed him a liver-flavored kitty treat, and placed him on his favorite chair.

  “We’ll be back before you know it, little guy,” she told him reassuringly.

  Max seemed oblivious to the trauma of the moment and curled up to snooze.

  Michelle noticed the mail delivery truck driving off as she walked out of the kitchen door toward the car. She made a quick trip to the box and retrieved the mail, then climbed in beside Steve. He looked happy and almost a little nervous.

  “What’s that grin about?” Michelle asked.

  “Nothing, babe. I’m just glad we’re getting away. I hope this will be a great weekend for both of us.”

  “Me, too,” she agreed. She reached across and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay, Lakeside Bed and Breakfast here we come.” He started the car and backed out of the driveway, pressing the remote to close the garage behind them. The sun was shining, and he looked more relaxed than Michelle had seen him in a while. They rode out of Sandy Cove and onto the open highway.

  “Pretty day,” Michelle commented, grasping for conversation.

  “Yep,” he replied with a smile.

  She flipped through the mail on her lap and was pleasantly surprised to find a letter from Kristin. Although email was great, it was fun to get a real letter in the mail. She opened the envelope and pulled out the familiar sunflower stationery she’d given Kristin before she moved away. “You’d better write lots of letters to me on this paper!” she had teased at the time.

  Steve popped in his favorite CD and was tapping on the steering wheel and humming along as she read the contents.

  The letter was more of a note. It started with the usual greetings and questions, but quickly moved on to the point. Kristin had met someone special, very special, and she wanted to bring him up to Sandy Cove for Michelle and Steve to meet.

  “Listen to this, Steve,” Michelle said, reaching over and turning the music down before she began to read the brief letter.

  He kept his eyes on the road while she read.

  “This must be pretty serious,” Michelle commented after finishing. “Kristin would never bring some guy up for us to meet unless she thought he was the one.”

  “You’re right. We’ve been trying to get her to visit us for a while now. Maybe that’s why we haven’t heard from her lately. She’s been busy with this guy. What did you say his name is?”

  “Mark. That’s all she said. No last name.”

  “You should call her when we get back and set something up. Maybe they could come up over Memorial Day weekend.”

  “That’s a great idea. I’m still hoping Mom and Dad will come then, too,” she said, and then added with concern, “Steve, do you really think my dad is going to be okay?”

  “He’ll be fine, honey. Once he gets this mess cleared up, he’ll be back to his old self,” he said reassuringly, reaching over and patting her on the knee.

  “But how will he ever get cleared of those charges? You yourself even admitted that it’s a challenging case.”

  “I’m just getting started in this field, Michelle. There are many attorneys who deal with cases much tougher than your dad’s, and they manage to clear their clients—some of whom are actually guilty, I might add. Your dad’s an innocent man. The truth will prevail.”

  “Well, I hope he gets the right counsel. At this point, I’m not sure how clearly he’s thinking. Mom is worried sick. I hope she’s getting some rest out at Grandpa’s.”

  “I’m sure they’re are taking good care of her.” He reached over and took her hand in his, giving it a little squeeze of reassurance. She thought about how she’d held Trevor’s hand at the conference and winced, hoping Steve didn’t notice.

  “Want to listen to the music again?” he asked.

  “Okay.” She let go of his hand and turned the volume back up.

  The melody of a soft love song caressed them from the CD player. They rode without talking for a while. The day was breathtakingly beautiful, with sapphire blue skies, a few pristine, billowy clouds, and the rare commodity of full sun. A breeze was blowing gently through the leaves on the trees lining the highway, and traffic was virtually nonexistent.

  Michelle pushed away the worries about her dad and tried to imagine what Mark must be like. She pictured Kristin as a bride and thought about how exciting it would be to help plan her wedding.

  After a while, her stomach started growling. “Are you getting hungry yet?” she asked Steve.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Hungry. Are you getting hungry?” she asked. “Why don’t we stop somewhere and have a picnic?”

  “Okay, that’s a great idea. Isn’t there a campground a few more miles down off the highway?”

  “Yeah, I think there is. Remember we noticed the sign last time on our way home?” She thought back to their last visit to the lake—a summer camping outing shortly after they got settled into Sandy Cove.

  Steve nodded. “I think it’s just past the interstate turnoff.”

  They were able to locate Camp Meadowlark about ten minutes later. Pulling off the highway, Steve followed the signs down the winding side road until they entered a parking area with a rustic playground comprised of two tire swings and a shallow slide beside some redwood picnic tables. It was peacefully vacant and the sun provided a relatively warm spot to enjoy the lush surroundings and their lunches. The fragrance of pine trees filled the air and the scampering of chipmunks and squirrels were the only sounds breaking the silence.

  Michelle took an old quilt from the trunk of the car. She draped it across the picnic table as a tablecloth and spread out their lunches. Using napkins as plates, they sat down to their picnic feast.

  “This place is gorgeous,” she replied with delight as she looked around.

  Steve’s head had been bowed, but he looked up and smiled saying, “There’s nothing like God’s creation.”

  Michelle wondered if he had been praying. All of this “God” stuff was so foreign coming from him. It made her feel almost awkward with her own husband. She really hoped he’d come to see things from a more open-minded perspective. How would she ever adjust to living with some conservative Bible thumper after all that she was learning and experiencing in her clas
ses? Her mind strayed to Trevor and his engaging smile. He was really helping her to expand her horizons.

  Thinking about him gave her an inspiration. Trevor would love this place! She jumped up with a start and quickly walked over to the car to get the camera.

  “What are you doing?” Steve asked.

  “I’m going to take a picture of this place! It’s the perfect image to gaze at during my newest meditation. In our class we’re learning about our inherent oneness with Mother Earth, and this place really helps me feel that spiritual connection.”

  Steve just said, “Oh.” He didn’t look impressed.

  She surveyed the area and chose the angle she liked best, and then began snapping pictures. After taking half a dozen, Michelle sat back down and started to eat.

  “Give me that camera,” Steve said.

  “Why?”

  “I want to take a picture of you so I can have something to gaze at, too.”

  “Are you mocking me, Steve?”

  “No. I just want to take your picture.”

  “Okay,” she replied, handing over the camera and giving him her best smile.

  It was quiet in his motel room that afternoon as John sat slumped over in the chair. Jeff Morgan’s words, “Get your affairs in order,” kept echoing in his mind.

  Finally, he rallied his energies to sit up at the small table and write a letter. In the letter he explained his one-time involvement in borrowing funds from the company’s account. Then he described the confusion and anguish he was now experiencing in this fabricated set of charges that were being leveled against him. Admitting that the signatures on the documents matched his own with flawless precision, he adamantly denied any involvement in the actual embezzlement itself.

  At one point the letter took a turn as he asked a series of questions he knew would never be answered. Why was this happening to him? Who wanted to see him destroyed? What would this do to his family? How would the real guilty party ever be brought to justice?

  He concluded with a message of love to his family and a reiteration of his loyalty and steadfast devotion to Mathers, Inc. Without even bothering to look the letter over, John pushed it aside and walked away. He eased his body onto the bed, picked up his cell phone and punched in the number for Phil and Joan’s house, hoping that Sheila would answer.

  A moment later his heart skipped a beat, hearing his wife’s voice on the other end. He hesitated for just a moment and then said, “Hi hon. It’s me.”

  “John! It’s so good to hear your voice. Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m calling from a motel up north. I miss you, sweetheart.”

  “I miss you, too,” she said. “Where exactly are you, John? Give me the name of the motel, honey.”

  “I’d rather not, Sheila. I’ll be home soon anyway.”

  “When, John? I’ve been worried sick.”

  His heart was wrenched from his chest. “I don’t know yet, honey. I just wanted to make sure you know how much I love you, and that none of this stuff has to do with you.”

  “Oh, John. Please come home. I love you, too, and I want to help you,” she urged.

  “I know you do, but I just can’t drag you through this mess. It’s better this way. Believe me.”

  “How much longer will you be gone?” she persisted in a concerned voice.

  “Not much. I’ve figured out what I need to do, so please don’t worry. How are your mom and dad?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “They’re fine,” she replied. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll explain it to you as soon as I can. How are Tim and Michelle?”

  “Tim’s been looking for you, honey. He’s really been worried.”

  “Call him, Sheila. Tell him I’m fine and to stop looking, okay?”

  There was a long pause on the other end.

  “I mean it, honey. Call him up and tell him not to worry. I’ll be home sooner than you think,” he persisted.

  “When?”

  “Within a week at the longest.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. Now tell Tim what I said, okay?”

  “All right, I’ll tell him.”

  “And Michelle, how’s she doing?” he asked, thinking about his beautiful daughter, who had grown into such a lovely young lady.

  “She’s good. Steve took today off, and they’re headed out to the lake for a weekend away. I think it will be good for them. He’s been working so hard. They need the time together.”

  “I’m glad they’re making time for each other,” John replied with a sigh. “Life is too short.”

  “What?” Sheila asked.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking out loud. Well, I guess I’d better finish up my business here. Just remember that I love you, Sheila. You’re a wonderful wife. Everything will work out for the best,” he said.

  “Okay, honey. I love you too.”

  “Bye, sweetheart.”

  “Bye, John.”

  Sheila was slowly lowering the receiver to the phone when her dad walked into the room.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Turning to him, she confessed, “I’m scared, Dad. That was John on the phone. He tried to reassure me, but I know that he’s upset. His voice wasn’t normal, and he was trying too hard to make it sound like everything is okay.” She looked up at him with tears filling her eyes.

  “Oh, baby,” he said softly. She collapsed against him and began to sob.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tim Ackerman’s baby face belied his age. At twenty-six, he could easily pass for eighteen. His sandy hair and gray-green eyes were captivating, and his matching dimples drew attention to his broad smile. A football star in high school and junior college, Tim’s frame was sturdy and muscular. Narrow hips and long legs complemented his broad shoulders.

  Girls were easily attracted to Tim, but he was in no hurry to settle down. The bachelor life with its freedom and mobility appealed to his restless nature. Consequently, he steered clear of commitments, including any particular career path, preferring a string of temporary positions earning just enough to meet his weekly expenses.

  Tim was an avid surfer. Since he worked until four o’clock, he usually spent late afternoons at the beach. It wasn’t just the sport that drew him. Sometimes he’d sit on his board and watch the waves go by. It gave him a place to think, and today he had a lot on his mind as he wondered about his father and where he could have gone.

  He was getting ready to head down to the water when his cell phone beeped. It was his mother. She sounded horrible. He could tell this would take some time. Switching to his Bluetooth, he wandered through his small apartment looking for the keys to his truck while he listened to her talk.

  She told him about her conversation with his father and explained how bad he sounded. She asked him where he had looked so far on his search to track his father down. He named a few neighboring towns and some of the acquaintances he had called. Every attempt had led to a dead end.

  “Listen, Tim,” she said gravely. “I don’t think this can wait another day. I have a terrible feeling. Something is going to happen to your father if we don’t find him right away.”

  He sunk down into the sofa and put his bare feet on the coffee table. “You really think it is that serious?”

  “I do. I’m coming home tonight, and I want you to be there to help me. Your dad mentioned something about being up north in a motel. We’ve got to figure out where he is and try to find him.”

  “Okay, Mom. I’ll call the guys and tell them to go without me. What time do you think you’ll be here?”

  “Probably by seven. Maybe we can have dinner together and figure out what to do.”

  “Alright. I’ll meet you at the house.”

  “Thanks, honey. I really appreciate this.”

  “No problem. See you at seven. And Mom, don’t worry. We’ll find him,” he added, hoping his voice sounded more convincing than he felt. He also had a bad feeling abo
ut all of this.

  “I just hope we can do it before it’s too late,” his mother said softly before saying good-bye.

  “We will,” Tim replied.

  By mid-afternoon Steve was pulling up a narrow, winding driveway to the Lakeside Bed and Breakfast. Tall trees lining the driveway towered above them, and the air was thick with the fragrance of pine. At the summit, the trees parted and revealed a sprawling lawn and an A-frame redwood mansion.

  Steve drove up to the curb in front of a flight of wooden stairs leading to a huge, wraparound porch and the massive wood and glass entry door. As they got out of the car, Michelle spotted the lake off to the side behind the inn. She watched Steve breathe in the fresh mountain air and nodded with a smile as he pointed toward the water. At the door, they were greeted by a middle-aged woman in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.

  “You must be the Barons,” she said, extending her hand to them. “My name is Hannah. My husband, Tom, and I are the innkeepers. Welcome to the Lakeside Bed and Breakfast.”

  “You have a beautiful place here,” Michelle said as she gazed around the lobby and living room. Exquisite Persian rugs in rich colors adorned the polished, hardwood floors, and elegant antiques furnished the rooms. Steve signed in at the register and gave Hannah their credit card.

  “I hope you’ll find everything to your liking,” she said after swiping the card and handing it back to him.

  “Make yourself at home. We have a game room downstairs with a TV and VCR, as well as a pool table and a variety of board games. The spa is right out this door,” she pointed toward a little alcove with a small door leading out to the back of the porch.

  “Breakfast is served family style at eight. If you need to eat earlier, just check in with the cook before she goes home at nine tonight. She’ll be happy to whip you up something delicious.”

  Steve thanked her and took the key. Then Hannah escorted them to their room at the top of the winding oak staircase. “If you need anything, just let me know,” she said, leaving them alone to explore the room.