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

by Margaret Standafer

Anna checked the time. “We really need to start thinking about getting ready if we’re going to make midnight mass.”

  “Midnight mass at ten o’clock, you mean. I wonder how many midnight masses I slept through as a kid? Ten o’clock is probably a smart decision,” Joe said on a yawn.

  They started gathering plates and glasses, searching for coats and purses, and gradually made their way to the cars. “Go ahead,” Susan said to Sam when Jake announced he had the car warmed up. “I’ll lock up here and be right behind you.”

  When it was just the two of them, Riley called Susan over to the Christmas tree and handed her two brightly wrapped gifts. “I didn’t feel like doing this in front of everyone.”

  “But we need to get going, we shouldn’t be late.”

  “We have time. Mom always thinks we need to be the first ones there. Sit down for a minute.”

  “Well, okay.”

  “Here, open this one first.”

  Susan took a moment to admire the Christmas tree. Susan and Sam had added their names to the McCabe family gift exchange drawing so they’d all be opening gifts together on Christmas Day, but she had always preferred Christmas Eve. Opening packages in the glow of the Christmas tree made it more magical.

  She began tearing the paper on the first box. When she opened it and saw a Minnesota Wild jersey and a pair of tickets to a game against the Chicago Blackhawks, she had to laugh.

  “Oh, Riley, I don’t know if I can wear this. It’s asking a lot.”

  “Trust me, you’ll be happy you did. It’s no fun sitting in an arena wearing the opposing jersey when your team loses.”

  “And if my team wins?”

  “Still no fun. Everyone around you will heckle you.”

  “I’ll go to the game, it sounds like fun, but I’m not committing to wearing the jersey just yet.”

  “Fair enough. The game’s not until the end of January, you’ll change your mind by then. Now open the other one.”

  “Why are there two? It seems excessive.”

  Riley huffed out an exasperated breath. “Just open it, Red.”

  “Okay, okay.” She tore away at the candy cane striped paper, opened the box, and found layers of tissue covering whatever was inside the heavy package. Curious, she carefully pulled back the paper and caught her breath. Staring up at her was a dramatic photograph of the Northern Lights, just as she could still see the display in her mind.

  Reverently, she ran a hand over the glass. The varying shades of green seemed to swirl before her eyes. Unable to speak, she picked up the frame and below found a second photo, as stunning as the first. This one was taken from a slightly different angle and the light seemed to dance on the frozen, snowy surface of the lake.

  The photos had been expertly framed and matted and they were perfect—absolutely perfect—for her Northern Lights room. And Riley had known.

  “Did Frank take them?”

  “Yep. Turns out that while we were watching from the window, he was racing around the lake trying to find the perfect vantage point.”

  “Riley, I don’t know what to say…I, I don’t know how to thank you. These are incredible, beautiful, exactly what I wanted for the room without even knowing it. But you did, you knew, and you did this for me and it’s so sweet and it’s so thoughtful and…and…”

  She felt her throat start to tighten and she couldn’t go on. She didn’t have the words and even if she had, she didn’t think she’d be able to get them out. She carefully set the box aside then, putting her hands on Riley’s face, kissed him.

  “I guess I figured you’d like them but I didn’t expect this. I hope Frank doesn’t get the same kind of thank you.”

  Susan choked out a half-laugh, half-sob and put her head on his shoulder. “No, not quite the same. He did take some amazing pictures, though. How did you get these done so quickly?” She picked one up again to admire it.

  “I really wasn’t sure I’d be able to but Frank has connections.”

  “Hmmm, I might have to rethink my thank you for him.”

  “Very funny.” He played with her hair, delighted with the way the curls coiled around this fingers, while she continued to study the pictures. “We probably should get going now or we will wind up late for mass.”

  Susan glanced at the clock on the wall. “They’ll save a seat for us,” she said as she wrapped her arms around Riley and kissed him again.

  16

  The boy rubbed his eyes and sat up. It was still dark in the room, but he thought it was probably morning. Christmas morning. Nervously, he looked around, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. His mom was still sleeping next to him in the hard, lumpy bed. The room was small, but even so, he couldn’t quite see all the way to the corner…the corner where he had finally convinced his mom to put a tiny Christmas tree.

  He squinted through the shadows, hoping he would see a gift under the tree, but at the same time, prepared to find the spot empty. His mom had assured him Santa would find him in the motel. She said Santa always found good boys and girls, but he wasn’t so sure. He should be home at Aunt Jenny’s, that’s where Santa would look for him. What if Santa had a present for him but left it under Aunt Jenny’s tree? His mom said they might not go back there. Sad and with the tears that always seemed to be close to the surface threatening again, he summoned his courage and carefully snuck out of the bed.

  The rickety table that held the little tree was pushed tight into the corner of the room. The boy was pretty sure that when he’d gone to bed the table had been empty except for the tree. As he tiptoed closer, he thought he could make out other shapes on the table. Holding his breath and moving as fast as he dared, he kept his eyes locked on those shapes.

  Easing the curtain back a little from the window, light from the parking lot spilled over the table. There was no colorful wrapping paper but he didn’t care, Santa had found him. Spread out on the table he spotted a bright blue monster truck, some crayons, markers, and paper, and a Spider-Man action figure. Tucked under Spider-Man’s arm he found a candy cane.

  Unable to hold his excitement inside, he bounced on his toes and squeaked, “Mommy! Mommy! Santa was here! Santa was here!”

  Groaning and pulling the blanket up over her head, the woman whispered, “Shhh, Mommy’s sleeping.”

  “But look, Mommy, Santa was here and I got toys.” He scrambled back to the bed, his presents all gathered tightly in his arms, and waited for her to look.

  Slowly, she pulled the blanket back, washed a hand over her face, and squinted at the boy. “Whatcha got there?” she managed.

  “Look! Some crayons and markers and stuff, and a monster truck, and look, Spidey! Isn’t it cool, Mommy, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it’s cool.” She smiled and reached over to smooth her hand over his wavy, chestnut hair. Scooting back on the bed, she patted the mattress and he climbed up next to her, excitedly showing her one treasure at a time. When he got to the candy cane he decided to try his luck since his mom seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

  “Santa left a candy cane, too. Do you think I could have it now?”

  “It’s too early in the morning for candy, you haven’t even had any cereal yet.”

  “I know, but it’s Christmas and Santa gave it to me…”

  “Save it for this afternoon. We have to drive again today, you can have it in the car.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Good question, she thought to herself. They had been in the dumpy motel close to Denver for nearly three weeks, but the money was running out. Quickly. The few bucks she’d made when they had stayed with Billy outside of Vegas were almost gone. She had to find work but without knowing anyone, didn’t know what she’d do with the boy. She’d been thinking for days, trying to come up with a solution besides the one she dreaded. And the other one she wasn’t sure she had the nerve to try.

  She knew there’d be work in Omaha, just as there had been years ago. She’d have to beg, she knew he’d make her, but she’d do
it.

  She watched the boy plowing the truck over mountains made by pillows and blankets and hoped the cheap toys—all she’d been able to afford—would hold up, at least for a while. She should have left him in California. He was happy with Jenny and Jenny would have taken care of him like he was her own. But he was hers, the only thing she had left. She wanted to take care of him, wanted to be a good mother, but it was so hard. Jenny made it seem so easy, flitting from school conferences to soccer games to the gym. Well, Jenny’s life was easy, hers wasn’t. She was tired of being compared to Jenny, tired of the expectations, just tired.

  “Watch, Mommy, Spidey’s gonna rescue the truck cuz it’s crashing.” He staged a fantastic crash, complete with appropriate sound effects, into the pillow pressed up tight against the headboard.

  “Okay, baby, just a minute, Mommy’s head hurts. I’ll be right back.”

  She watched his hands still and his face fall. She knew her headaches bothered him, knew her mood swings were hard on him, but didn’t know how to stop them.

  “Maybe we can call Aunt Jenny later and wish her Merry Christmas.” She wanted to sound cheerful, wanted to put a smile back on his face.

  “Really?”

  “Sure, baby.”

  She grabbed her purse, pulled a ratty robe around her shoulders, and headed for the bathroom. Once inside, she dug through her purse with trembling hands. The fancy cell phone Jenny had given her when they’d left California, telling her she’d cover the monthly payments because she wanted to stay in touch, seemed to mock her and she shoved it aside. When her fingers tightened around the small vial, she relaxed. Shaking pills out into her hand, she filled a glass with water and washed them down. She leaned her head against the bathroom door and closed her eyes. She’d feel better soon. And then she’d start for Omaha because she had no choice.

  17

  Christmas was over, the new year well underway, and a long winter still ahead. Most years, Susan had to fight the blues that threatened once the excitement of the holidays was past, but this year there was simply too much to look forward to. The blues didn’t stand a chance.

  First, there were two new adorable, sweet, and perfect babies. Born just three days apart, Dylan Joseph McCabe and Lauren Elizabeth Taylor brought light to the long, dark days. Susan’s only regret was that her niece was in Chicago and she wasn’t able to stop in and visit on a moment’s notice. Dylan helped ease the ache. He was a bundle of cuddly joy with the bright blue McCabe eyes, a mass of dark hair, and round, plump cheeks just made to nuzzle. On the day he was born the entire McCabe family had waited, anxiously pacing in the hospital waiting room, for the first of the next generation of McCabes to make an appearance. When Joe came out and announced his son had arrived, healthy and screaming at the top of his lungs, there hadn’t been a dry eye in the room. Three days later Sam and Susan had hopped on a plane to meet Lauren, a fair-skinned, blue-eyed and blonde-haired beauty who already had her father wrapped around her finger.

  Next, the progress on the inn was, in her opinion, incredible. The guest rooms were framed, most already covered with drywall, the bathrooms roughed-in, and her kitchen was starting to take shape. Riley had pulled down the rusted cabinets and the plaster that had covered the kitchen wall to fully expose the long-hidden brick. His best guess was that, at some point, a remodeling job involved updating the kitchen and the brick was deemed outdated. She loved the dark red brick that extended the entire length of the kitchen and, to her delight, another wall of the same brick had been uncovered in the parlor during demo. Susan couldn’t wait to decorate the room around the deep red shades of the brick.

  Online searches for ideas led her to a dizzying array of design options. She both praised and cursed the Internet. On the one hand, most anything she needed was at her fingertips. On the other hand, browsing the endless pictures and descriptions of the almost unbelievable homes others had envisioned and created left her feeling woefully inadequate. There was simply no way she’d ever match the spectacular displays she clicked through, one after the other. At times she found herself longing for the days when one’s inspiration came from neighbors or from the one or two magazines devoted to home décor, and not from everyone in the world with a flair for the artistic and access to a computer.

  Riley had stressed to her the importance of not ordering too much too soon when it came to fixtures. Timing was important, he had explained, since there wasn’t a great deal of space to store toilets, sinks, cabinets, and the like. To Susan, it became a challenge she embraced wholeheartedly. She devised intricate spreadsheets with expected completion dates, estimated shipping times, and ordering deadlines. She set up alerts to notify her as the dates approached. She was especially proud of the information she had built into the spreadsheet that spelled out not only individual item and shipping costs, but discounts based on quantity, where applicable. She would analyze the information to determine if it made more sense for her to hold off on ordering until Riley was ready for everything from a particular vendor, or if discounts either didn’t apply or didn’t outweigh the costs of waiting. Genius. She silently congratulated herself as she studied the data for the umpteenth time.

  If she were being honest with herself, finding discounts wherever she could was becoming more of a necessity than merely just a challenge. She hadn’t discussed it with anyone yet, but she was starting to worry about the costs and about her budget. She had known from the outset that the project was going to be expensive, but seeing the bills on a daily basis and knowing what was still to come had her worried. She didn’t know if she could go back to the bank for another loan. Sam would help her out, she’d offered more than once and Susan knew she was sincere, but that would be an absolute last resort.

  It was some of the changes and add-ons she had insisted upon and had convinced Riley to go along with that were killing her. Maybe she should have listened to him when he’d tried to talk to her about the price tag. But, she reasoned, they would pay off in the long run. Turning the barn into the event center would bring in more revenue, as would the additional attic rooms. She’d just have to figure it out.

  “So, McCabe, what’s so important that I needed to come over here on my day off, when it’s twenty below zero, and when I really should be home doing laundry?” Susan asked as she hurried inside and rubbed her nose trying to get it to thaw. Gusto bolted in ahead of her, ran to greet Riley, then disappeared up the stairs.

  “He sure makes himself at home here.”

  “Is he in the way? I don’t have to bring him along all the time if it’s a problem.”

  “Nah, he’s figured out what he can and can’t get away with and the guys all like him. He’s getting spoiled. I think they’ve all started keeping treats in their pockets and sneaking him one when they think I’m not looking. If anything, he’s going to need to go on a diet.”

  “He is a little mooch, isn’t he?” Susan smiled and stretched on her toes to give Riley a kiss on the cheek. “Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “I had a call this morning…”

  “And?”

  “Remember Jeremiah?”

  “The barn restoration expert? Sure. Did he finally get back to you?” Susan had been anticipating, and dreading, his report. If he felt it was possible to make the barn usable year-round she knew the price tag would be huge. But if he felt it didn’t make sense, she’d be disappointed.

  “He did, with details on how he thinks we should finish the barn to make it usable all year, and he explained his reason for taking so long with his suggestions. You must have impressed him, or he wants to ask you out, or something, because he sure went to bat for you.”

  Susan grinned at the idea of sixty-year-old Jeremiah, father of eight, grandfather of fourteen and counting, asking her out. “He’s a sweet man but what do you mean, went to bat for me?”

  “Apparently there are grants available for the restoration and preservation of historical barns. He spoke with some of the right people, s
howed pictures, explained what you’re doing here, and feels pretty confident that if you’re willing to fill out some paperwork, you’ll qualify.”

  Shock exploded like fireworks on Susan’s face. “A grant? A grant, as in they’ll give me money for the project?”

  “That’s what a grant is, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe this.” She walked in circles as her mind raced. A grant would cover some of the expenses she had been fretting over. Everything happened in time and for a reason. She was overwhelmed.

  “It would appear I owe you a huge thank you once again,” she said turning to Riley.

  “I didn’t do anything, Jeremiah did the leg work on this one.”

  “Oh, I’ll thank him, you can be sure, but you’re the one who brought him here, the one who had the foresight to call in an expert, the one who explained to him what I wanted to do in a way that made sense, the one who made all this happen. Again. You have a way of making things happen.”

  When he just shrugged she went to him and slid her arms around his waist. “In just a few months you’ve amazed me time and again. You pulled strings to get work underway far ahead of schedule, you rolled with all the crazy changes I suggested and made them a reality, you brought Shauna and Frank in to help with things I never would have been able to do myself, and now this. You’re my hero, my knight in shining armor, my… miracle worker,” she said dramatically.

  When he chuckled and opened his mouth to argue, she laid a finger on his lips. “Don’t. Just accept my thanks and know that it couldn’t be more sincere or more heartfelt.” Then she replaced her finger with her lips.

  “If you’re going to keep thanking me like that, I’ll have to find more miracles to work.”

  “I don’t doubt you for a minute.”

  Riley gave her an overview of what Jeremiah had suggested they do to winterize the barn to make it a year-round facility. Susan nodded, added a few comments, but was distracted. “You want to call Jeremiah, don’t you?”