The Inn at Misty Lake: Book Two in the Misty Lake Series

by Margaret Standafer

“No, not really. Sure, there are times when I’m watching a college game and I start to think, but…no. I don’t even know if I would have liked it as much without Frank. A big part of the fun was playing with him. And, like I said, I don’t know what kind of player I would have been on my own.” He shrugged and tore his gaze away from the fire to look at Susan. “I’m pretty happy with the way things have turned out. I’m doing something I enjoy and I’m still playing hockey for fun. Some of the injuries that come with the faster and more physical game in college could have made a job like mine impossible.” Softening his voice he added, “And I may have never met you.”

  Riley gently ran his hand down Susan’s arm, watching her intently. When the heat flashed in her eyes, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

  Warm, Susan thought, as she snuggled against Riley. She was finally warm. Any chill she had felt in the drafty house disappeared when she was in his arms. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, and she knew her heart was his.

  Riley tried desperately to make sense of his feelings. In the months he had known her, Susan had managed to both frustrate and amaze; she had left him puzzled one day and fascinated the next; she took him from teeth-grinding impatience to breathless desire in the blink of an eye. In the blink of her eye, he corrected himself. He looked into her emerald eyes, reflecting the flames from the fire but at the same time, darkening with desire. He pulled her closer, shifting so her head rested on his chest, and together they watched the flames dance until the logs burned low.

  Eventually, Riley stirred. “I’d better get some more wood and check the pipes.”

  As he stood and the blanket fell, Susan shivered. “Hurry back.”

  Riley gave her a long look then knelt back down next to her. Taking her face in his hands he said, “I can’t let you freeze, Red, even if you are a Blackhawks fan.” He kissed the tip of her nose, whistled for the dog, and left her feeling warmer than ever.

  Susan woke to hazy sunshine filtering in through the window. It took her a moment to remember where she was and why she was so stiff, but then the memories came flooding back and she inched closer to Riley.

  He had been awake for a few minutes, watching her as she slept with her head nestled on his shoulder and her mittened hand flung across his chest. Her hair was a riot of tangles and curls and when the sun peeked through and touched it, it turned to flame.

  “Hey, sleepyhead, we should get moving.”

  Slowly, Susan stretched and angled her head to face him. “Good morning to you, too,” she yawned. “Did it stop snowing?”

  “Looks like it. The power isn’t back on yet, though. Are you cold?”

  “Not really. What time is it?”

  “It must be close to eight, the sun just came up. We got a few hours sleep, I guess.”

  “Mmmm,” Susan murmured, fighting the light-headed, dazed feeling that comes with a nearly sleepless night. “I suppose we should go see what it looks like out there.”

  “I’m going to try to get in touch with Jake and see what he knows about the road. If it’s not cleared of the power line we might have to stay put for a while.”

  “Okay.” Struggling to her feet and stretching her arms over her head, Susan looked out the window. “Oh, look. It’s beautiful.”

  Snow covered every surface, hung from tree branches, and glittered in the air as the wind swirled and the flakes caught the sunlight. For as far as Susan could see, there was white. Drifts easily six feet or more had formed by the barn and in front of her car.

  “Beautiful, yes, but also a lot of work. We’ve got to try to clear a path to the driveway and then figure out how to get out of here.”

  Riley’s phone rang and while he talked, Susan gazed out the window and found herself wishing it would start to snow again. The night had been magical. She and Riley had talked until they dozed off then, waking when it got cold, added logs to the fire and talked some more. She was sure she had learned more about him in one night than she would have in weeks under normal circumstances. As she rubbed at the kink in her neck, she knew she’d take it any day for another night like she and Riley had shared.

  “Jake says the road is clear and the power should be back on soon. I guess he made it to Sam’s some time after midnight so he’s there now trying to get her plowed out. He just talked to Joe who’s got a truck with a plow and said he’d be over to Sam’s as soon as he could. Jake’s going to send him this way when he’s done there. So, it sounds like we’ll be rescued.”

  “Wow, the McCabes really know how to rally.”

  “We’re good at some things,” he grinned. “Now, why don’t we see if we can start clearing a path to the driveway?”

  “I’m going to grab a bottle of water and pretend it’s coffee. I’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

  Susan watched as Riley trudged through snow that, at times, was thigh high. Bundling her jacket tighter around her and pulling her hat down over her ears, she headed out to join him. Then she smirked and rubbed her hands together. Following his footsteps, she moved as quickly and as quietly as she could, keeping her eyes on Riley’s back as he worked to clear the area around her car. When she was close, she ran the last few steps, came up beside him, and throwing her hip out, sent him sprawling face-first into the drift.

  Riley came up wiping snow off his face and squinting up at her. “That’s how you thank me for shoveling out your car?”

  “You know, McCabe, it just seemed like it needed to be done.” Then, throwing her head back, she howled with laughter at his appropriately chagrined expression.

  The boy looked around him at the Christmas decorations that seemed to cover every surface in the small, dingy discount store. He saw people filling their carts with Christmas lights and candy canes. Nervously, he tugged on his mother’s sleeve.

  “Mommy, is it almost Christmas? You told Aunt Jenny we’d be back for Christmas, remember?”

  His mother grabbed some cans of soup and tossed them in the basket she was carrying. She hadn’t seemed to hear him.

  “Mommy,” he tried again, “you said we’d be home by Christmas time.”

  “Can’t you let me concentrate? I can’t worry about Christmas right now.”

  “But Mommy, we should go home,” he tried to convince her.

  “Home,” she sneered. She wondered when she’d last had someplace she could call home.

  The boy followed her as she moved down the narrow aisle. He tried again. “Aunt Jenny wants us to be there for Christmas, she told me when we left.”

  Sighing heavily, she stopped and turned to the boy. “Listen, I don’t know when we’ll go back there. I don’t know if we’ll go back there. You’re just going to have to forget about Aunt Jenny’s.”

  His chin started to quiver as he looked at her. His eyes filling with tears, he said shakily, “But how will Santa find me?”

  Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she opened her mouth intending to insist he stop badgering her. But, seeing his heart-broken expression, she softened and crouched down, drawing him close. “Oh, baby, Santa will find you. He knows how to find all the good little boys and girls. If you’re real good and do what I say, Santa will find you. I promise.”

  Wiping his tears before she stood, she wondered how she was going to keep that promise. Then she wondered if Santa ever found mommies.

  13

  As Christmas approached, Susan threw herself into preparations for the holiday. She delighted in helping decorate Sam’s house, all the while imagining what she would do the next year to decorate the inn. Since it was Sam’s first Christmas in Misty Lake, the house was a clean slate when it came to decorating with no previous years’ successes or failures to build on. Susan loved the challenge. She hung wreaths, draped garlands over the mantle and around the doors and banisters, and set the house, inside and out, aglow with thousands of white lights.

  The best by far, however, was the tree. Following with the McCabe family tradition, Susan and Sam joined the pilgrimage to a nearby tree
farm and spent the better part of the day enjoying sleigh rides, sipping cocoa, and trudging through fields in search of the perfect tree. Susan insisted they find a tree big enough that it would be worthy of the spot in front of the giant two-story windows facing the lake. Sam shared Susan’s exuberance and the two searched until their toes were nearly frozen before finding a tree tall enough, wide enough, and straight enough to satisfy both of them. When it came time to trim the tree, it took Sam, Susan, Jake, Riley, and two stepladders to complete the job.

  “How about now?” Riley groaned as he shifted the star ever so slightly to the left and waited for an okay from Susan and Sam. The two stood below, tilting their heads and squinting their eyes. “If you’re not satisfied within the next thirty seconds, one of you is climbing up here,” he grumbled.

  “Just a tiny, tiny bit more to the left,” Susan instructed.

  Riley swore under his breath as he gently tapped the star and succeeded in moving it a fraction of an inch to the left. “How’s that?” he asked, barely containing his frustration.

  “Stop. Right there, don’t you think, Sam?”

  “I think you did it, Riley,” Sam said. “Come on down and have a cookie. This is supposed to be fun, remember?”

  “Fun. Right,” he mumbled as he climbed down the ladder. But, he didn’t turn down the invitation to have a cookie. “Do you have some of those peanut butter ones with the chocolate kisses in the middle?”

  “Of course.” Sam held out a candy cane platter filled with a dizzying array of cookies. She and Susan had spent hours upon hours baking all their favorites as well as some of the McCabe family favorites Sam had coaxed out of Jake.

  Riley, cookies in hand and his mood improving, stood back and studied the tree. “I guess it is a pretty amazing tree,” he admitted, “even if it was a pain in the ass getting it in the house, in the stand, and decorated. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tree quite this big in someone’s house before.”

  “I know,” Susan said proudly, walking from one side of the tree to the other while holding up her phone. “We found just the right one for this spot.” Frowning, she added, “We should get Frank over here to take a picture. I’m afraid my phone won’t do it justice. Actually, unless I stand in the kitchen, I don’t think I can even get the whole thing in the picture.”

  Jake stood with his arm around Sam looking at the tree. “I’m sure Frank would like nothing better than to come photograph your tree.”

  Susan gave Jake a withering look. “Fine. He doesn’t have to make a special trip out here to take a picture, but I assume he’ll have his camera on Christmas Eve. He can do it then.” A satisfied smile crossed her face.

  Lifting her head to look up at Jake, Sam asked, “So he’s coming for sure? How about everyone else?”

  Susan and Sam had talked, at length, guessing at how the McCabes would feel about spending Christmas Eve at Sam’s house after having just been there for Thanksgiving. When the two had, somewhat reluctantly, decided not to make the trip to Chicago for Christmas, Sam had extended the invitation. It would be their first Christmas away from family, but since they both wanted to visit soon after Mia had the baby, making a trip at Christmas and then another in early January seemed like too much. They’d both felt hosting Christmas Eve, by far the cousins’ favorite day—and celebration—of the year, and incorporating some of the Taylor family traditions, would ease the hurt.

  Riley answered for Jake. “Sounds like they’re all coming. Joe and Karen will be with Karen’s family later on Christmas Day so they’ll be here, too. Although, Joe said it will depend upon how Karen is feeling.” He shook his head in disgust. “I’m telling you, Jake, I hardly recognize that brother of ours. I tried talking to him about Sunday’s football game and somehow he turned it into a conversation about labor breathing techniques. When I asked him what he thought of Brady’s touchdown pass he thought I was suggesting baby names. Pathetic.”

  “He does seem unable to focus on much else. I wonder what’ll happen to him once the kid is born? Do you think he’ll get worse?” Jake sounded slightly panicked.

  Susan put her hands on her hips and scolded. “Geez, you guys make it sound like he’s got some sort of terminal illness. He’s going to be a dad in a few weeks, of course it’s all he can think about. Cut him some slack.”

  “Well, I’m just glad everyone is coming. What about your great aunts? Do they usually spend Christmas with your family? Or do they have children or grandchildren nearby?” Sam had already moved on to planning for Christmas Eve.

  “Rose never had children. Her husband died at a relatively young age and she never remarried. Kate has two kids, both out on the East Coast. They come home sometimes for Christmas and always in the summer, but from what I hear, neither is able to make the trip this Christmas so I assume both Rose and Kate will be here on Christmas Eve. Mom always makes sure they’re not alone.”

  Sam smiled at Jake. “It’s nice to have someone looking out for them like that. Anyone else? The invitation is open, I’d just like to have an idea of how many to expect. Do you get together with cousins at Christmas?”

  “Remember when we used to?” Riley laughed. “When we were younger, the whole gang got together and it was a blast…at least for the kids. At some point we stopped doing that, I think there just got to be too many people. They all usually show up at the Fourth of July picnic, though.”

  Susan headed to the window and stared out at the darkness. The talk of family and holiday get-togethers had her feeling lonely and second-guessing her decision to stay in Misty Lake. She was grateful when Sam changed the subject.

  “Hey, Suze, you never finished telling me what you learned about the history of your house.”

  “Hmmm?” Susan turned back to the group, trying to put thoughts of Christmas past from her mind and, instead, focus on the present. She knew what Sam was trying to do and she loved her for it. “Oh, the house. I learned some—it’s amazing what you can find on the Internet—but there are still a lot of questions.”

  “Tell us what you did find. Since I read that journal, I’ve been plenty curious, too,” Sam prompted.

  Shaking off her melancholy, Susan dove into her story. “Well, I looked for information on Charlie—Charles—Walker and found that he did indeed marry one Martha Kane in 1950. He died in California so he and Martha must have gone there right after getting married and must have stayed there. I didn’t find any record of them ever having children.”

  “I wonder if they were ever happy together? I agree with you, Susan, that his last entry sounded sad and not at all like it was written by a happy groom-to-be.”

  “We’ll probably never know. I also found out that Charlie had one sister, Roberta, who married Edward Fuller and lived in St. Paul. Charlie’s father, Thomas, died in 1970 in Misty Lake. His mother, Helen, died ten years later in St. Paul so at some point she must have gone to live with, or at least near, her daughter. Roberta and Edward had a son, James, and it looks like he ended up in Texas, which makes sense, because the person listed as the seller on the house was Sarah Fuller from Houston, Texas. Crazy how much you can learn with a few keystrokes.”

  Riley studied Susan suspiciously. “It makes me wonder what you’ve found out about me.”

  “Don’t worry, McCabe, I’ve been too busy to Google you. So far.” She wiggled her eyebrows and was rewarded with a pillow in the face.

  “Were you able to find out any more about the house itself? Was it always in the Walker family?” Sam asked. “I know you were hoping to find some pictures.”

  “Actually, I did learn a little and I have you to thank for that, Jake. Bea over at City Hall is a treasure. She dug up all kinds of information for me and would probably still be talking if I hadn’t finally claimed I had an appointment I needed to keep.”

  Jake smiled knowingly. “That sounds like Bea. She’s a sweet woman. She probably could have retired ten years ago but she loves what she does.”

  “She found some old record
s that show the original owners of the house were the Baumgartners. Apparently the last family member died in 1929 and the house was abandoned. When taxes weren’t paid ownership reverted to the county. Then in 1931 the house was sold to Thomas and Helen Walker, Charlie’s parents.”

  “Did you ever come across any pictures?” Riley asked.

  Susan’s shoulders slumped. “No. Even Bea couldn’t find anything.”

  “Then did you really learn anything? Was it just curiosity after finding the journal that had you doing all this research or were there some specific answers you were looking for?” Jake seemed perplexed.

  “Oh, not really anything specific except for pictures. I was really hoping to find some that would give me an idea of how the place looked when it was lived in. It was mostly curiosity. I couldn’t help but get hooked on Charlie’s story. I guess I’m a sucker for romance.”

  “Well, let’s hope he and Martha were happy,” Sam said.

  Susan talked everyone into watching a Christmas movie to wrap up the weekend. They settled on Christmas Vacation. Jake and Riley tried to outdo one another quoting lines and got into a shouting match seeing who could belt out Clark’s tirade—when he finally loses his cool following one disaster after another—faster. Once the movie was over, Riley looked at the time and knew he needed to head out.

  “I still have to stop by the house and drop off some revised plans. Cindy is going to be there early tomorrow morning and I’ll be tied up in town for a while.”

  “I could drop them for you, I have to drive over there either tonight or tomorrow morning. I left a bag there with some things I need for work in the morning. I kept meaning to pick it up, but the weekend got away from me.”

  Sam and Jake were cozied up on the opposite sofa, whispering to each other and seeming to have forgotten Susan and Riley were still there. Riley cocked his head in their direction. “How about we drive over there together, give these two a little time alone.”