The Comfort of Secrets (A Sweet Lake Novel Book 2)

by Christine Nolfi

  “Ryan, she knows the inn like a homing pigeon.”

  “That’s not all. There’s another interesting development. I’ll explain later.” He peered down the corridor then back to Cat. “She almost didn’t come. Changed her mind at the last minute. Took me the better part of an hour to bring her around.”

  “What happened?”

  “Beats me. She’s been skittish since this afternoon, when I mentioned you work in Sweet Lake. She knew instantly I was talking about the Wayfair.” Brows lowering, he canvassed her face. “Hey, whatever is bothering her, it has nothing to do with you.”

  The reassurance didn’t allay her doubts. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. She’s glad for the opportunity to get acquainted. In a day or so, she’ll relax. We just need to give her space.”

  “Will she stay the week? My parents are looking forward to hosting dinner.”

  “Let’s keep our fingers crossed.” Uncertainty filtered through the comment. Tempering it with a smile, he motioned to the stairwell where his mother had disappeared. “Lead the way. Mom’s gone psychic, but I’m unfamiliar with the south wing. It wasn’t on the grand tour.”

  “I’ll add it . . . after the place gets a face-lift.” She strove for a cheery note to mask her confusion. Even if Julia had visited the Wayfair in the past without Ryan’s knowledge, why would returning make her skittish? Her bad case of nerves didn’t portend well for the week ahead.

  Ryan surveyed the corridor, with its old carpeting and dimly lit wall sconces. “I see what you mean. The south wing definitely needs an upgrade.” He swung around. “Where is she?”

  In a breezy voice, his mother called out, “Is this one mine? The flowers are beautiful.”

  Thanks to the ever-thoughtful Jada, a bouquet of fresh daisies sat on the nightstand in Linnie’s old digs, to complement the larger bouquet of tea roses Cat had placed on the dresser. The plush apricot throw she snuggled in on wintry nights, freshly laundered, nestled on an upholstered chair.

  “You’ve found the place, Mrs. D’Angelo.”

  “What a pretty room.” She noticed the roses. “Thank you. And please, call me Julia.”

  “Can I get you anything?” The inn didn’t have room service, but Jada was still in the kitchen reviewing the menu for next Sunday’s brunch.

  “A cup of tea would be nice. Do you have chamomile?”

  She sent the text. “Coming right up.”

  Ryan said, “After you unpack, why don’t we meet downstairs? We’ll have a drink together.”

  “The Sunshine Room doesn’t close until midnight,” Cat chimed in. “Or, if you prefer, we’ll sit on the veranda.”

  Retrieving the carry-on from her son, Julia gave a brave-looking smile. “I’m rather tired. Do you mind if I beg off?” She placed the small suitcase on the bed. “We’ll chat more tomorrow.”

  At the subtle dismissal, Cat led Ryan into her suite, which now belonged to him for the duration of his visit. She’d barely shut the door when he dropped his cool veneer—and his luggage—to steer her into his arms. With an urgent kiss, he backed her into the wall.

  Coming up for air, he looked over his shoulder. “News flash. This place has a bed.”

  “It’s my bedroom. What were you expecting?”

  He lifted his nose, inhaled. “Your scent is all over the place. Chemical warfare. I like it.” Showering kisses on her neck, he teased the skin until she shivered. “If I surrender, will you get into bed?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Because my mother’s down the hall?” He nuzzled her ear, flooding her senses with pleasure. “She’s more interested in her book than us.”

  “Ryan—”

  “No sex. Lady’s choice. Totally fine.” His eyes dilated so quickly, she felt breathless. “What are your thoughts on heavy necking, minus our shirts?”

  His reckless hands drifted down to her waist, threatening her resolve. An entire night of lovemaking was a delicious prospect—an idea she shook off with some effort. Angling back, she took his face in her hands.

  “On our way upstairs, you said there’s another interesting development. What is it?”

  The desire ebbed from his features. Setting her away, he scrubbed his palms across his jaw.

  “Mind if we talk downstairs? I could use a drink.”

  “Sure.”

  The Sunshine Room was nearly empty, the last diners finishing dessert. Toward the back of the restaurant, Linnie huddled with several of the waitstaff, no doubt discussing the week’s schedule. The publicity for next Saturday night’s concert had worked better than expected, with increased bookings starting well before the weekend. By Wednesday the inn would be sixty percent full, a major achievement for the off-season.

  They ordered drinks, Dewar’s for Ryan and the house white wine for her. Cat doubted the veranda was free of guests, but the last diners were gone from the patio behind the restaurant. She led Ryan out back.

  He chose a table near the end and pulled out her chair. When she’d seated herself, he sat down to nurse his drink in quiet contemplation.

  She sipped her wine, aware he didn’t know how to begin. Her mother’s talk of bad omens and the dying moth she’d seen while washing pots crept into her thoughts.

  At last Ryan looked at her. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you.”

  An inauspicious opener if ever there was one. “Like what?”

  “My name wasn’t always D’Angelo.”

  “You had a different name?”

  The question floated between them, unbound. She licked her lips, her shoulders tensing.

  “My mother changed it the last time we ran. Soon as we got to Ohio, when I was sixteen. A priest in Cincinnati helped. Father Thomas put her in touch with an attorney, who took care of the details. He also went with her to court. One day I was Ryan Hunt, and the next, Ryan D’Angelo.”

  George. My father. Not once had he added a last name, and she’d drawn the obvious conclusion. “Julia changed your surname to hide from your father?”

  “It was the only way to get rid of him for good. He found us after we were in Salt Lake for a while. They reconciled, and then he went back to his old habits. When it got really bad, we ran again. We moved to Idaho, had some good years before the past caught up with us.” He paused, and the stilted account put chips of ice in her blood. “George found us in Twin Falls.”

  “How did he find you?”

  “I didn’t crack the mystery until my second year of college, and an all-nighter searching Google. Not like my mother would go into details—we don’t discuss the past much. Too hard for us both.” Ryan took a gulp of his drink. “The place she worked in San Francisco, Lux Jewels? The owner was born in Twin Falls. I guess it took George Hunt a while to remember that salient fact.”

  “How long did you live in Twin Falls?”

  “I was sixteen when George caught up with us. My parents didn’t reconcile, not like in Salt Lake. After what he did to her that day, she finally caught on. She needed to give us a new name, or she wouldn’t survive.” A muscle in his jaw convulsed. In a steadier voice, he added, “Today, right before we left to come here, I remembered something I’d forgotten.”

  She struggled to keep up. “A phone number, a name?”

  “A memory. The drive out of Twin Falls.” Revulsion washed through his eyes, but he contained it. “I didn’t remember all the details until we were in the driveway, getting into our cars.”

  On the stem of the glass, her fingers twitched. “Ryan, you were sixteen when you left Twin Falls.”

  “I blocked out a lot of what happened. I wasn’t aware how much until today. After my father beat my mother, and I came in from school . . . there’s a lot I don’t remember, never want to remember.” His voice faded off, the memories crowding in.

  “Tell me what you remembered today.” Scooting her chair closer, she took his free hand and placed it protectively in her lap.

  The small act of kindness brought a grim smile to
his lips. “I have some pretty serious memory gaps.” Pride battled the fear in his eyes. “Entire years from childhood I’ve lost.”

  “You didn’t lose them; you did what you needed to survive. I’m sure there are other adults who’ve come through abusive childhoods with events they’ve blocked entirely.” A horrible ache drove through her breastbone. He’d endured too much, horrors beyond imagining. Horrors that her comparatively happy life didn’t prepare her to understand. “What happened in the driveway to make you remember?”

  “Mom got into her car. The way she hung on to the steering wheel, like she was hanging on for dear life, kick-started my brain. Like a movie switching on in my head. But I didn’t just see her. I saw the velvet pouch she’d tossed onto the backseat before we took off for Ohio.”

  “A jewelry pouch?”

  “A large one, big as one of those envelopes for legal documents. Probably meant to hold a jewelry box.”

  “From the jewelry store in San Francisco?”

  “Yeah, that would make sense.” He drew back into reflection, his eyes leaping across the darkness engulfing the patio. “Cat, you’ve got to understand. The last day in Twin Falls, I came home and found my mother practically blinded from the blood running down her face. One of her eyes swelling shut, the bruises purpling on her cheeks—George was passed out on the couch, thank God. I didn’t enter the apartment. One look at my mother, and I threw up in the doorway.”

  He paused again, long enough to finish his scotch. She held his hand fiercely as the past bore down on him.

  “I don’t remember how she managed to clean me up while I stood there, a sixteen-year-old kid helpless as a baby. Somehow, she managed it. She’d just received the worst beating of her life but she was incredibly calm, reassuring me. She told me to stay right there, like she was worried I’d run off. Hell, I was so terrified, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything but stare at that dumb bastard, snoring loud enough to shake the walls. I hadn’t seen George in years, didn’t remember him. Another memory I’d suppressed.”

  Hatred flickered through Ryan’s eyes. Instantly he quashed it. Yet the telling of that fateful day was so vivid, panic rattled Cat’s pulse. “Your mother told you to wait,” she whispered, urging him to finish the story and bring them both relief. “While you waited in the doorway, what did she do?”

  “That was another thing I didn’t recall until today, how fast she moved. Bloody, bruised—like one of those guys on a bomb squad.” Blinking rapidly, Ryan pulled from the nightmare. In a firmer tone, he said, “She went to her bedroom first, got the velvet pouch. She came back out filling it with items I didn’t recall until today. She went there before she raced to the kitchen for the garbage bags to stuff our clothes in. She walked right past George snoring on the couch and handed me the pouch, this soft sapphire-blue bag. She told me to keep it safe while she got the rest of our things.”

  “You didn’t remember it until today?”

  “Incredible, right? Especially since she didn’t let it out of our sight for the entire trip. Kept it right on the backseat. She took it into every diner we stopped at to grab a bite. Must’ve been her most cherished possession, but I excised it from my brain like I’d reached Ohio equipped with a scalpel.”

  “You associated the pouch with what you witnessed when you came home from school. That’s why you cut it from your memory.” Putting the pieces together, Cat inhaled a sharp breath. “This afternoon you found the velvet pouch?”

  “I told my mother I’d forgotten something inside the house. I found it buried at the bottom of a drawer in her bedroom.”

  “What was inside?”

  A muscle in his jaw convulsing, he reached into his pocket. The moon drifted out from behind thick clouds to finger the thread of feathers and stones, illuminating the tiny shells strung between them with cold light. Silver and gold pigment, expertly painted on the hairlike barbs of each feather, glimmered in the moonlight. Cat frowned with confusion.

  “Ryan, this is the token I gave you.”

  Grimly he reached back into his pocket. He produced a second, older token. The feathers were broken. The stones were painted in primary colors, bold hues only a child would select.

  Cat blinked with amazement.

  Chapter 17

  Relieved to have found her friends at last, Cat walked into the ballroom. Jada and Linnie crawled across the parquet floor with a yellow tin of wax and rags in their fists. All morning she’d been looking for an opportunity to get them alone.

  Approaching, she asked, “What are you doing?”

  Linnie rubbed furiously at the floor. “Touching up the scratches your band left in my beautiful ballroom.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, all three of us voted to hire Midnight Boyz.” After the depressing conversation with Ryan last night, she’d forgotten about the band’s antics in the ballroom. “Do you need help touching up the floor?”

  “We’re almost finished.” Linnie appraised her handiwork with satisfaction. She gave Cat a quick glance. “You look tired.”

  After bidding Ryan good night, she’d chased shadows across the ceiling for hours. The initial, numbing disbelief at what he’d endured during a tumultuous childhood gave way to anger and, finally, tears. At dawn, she’d fallen into a dreamless sleep.

  When she merely shrugged, Linnie asked, “Where’s Ryan?”

  “He took his mother out for lunch.” He’d been quiet all morning, clearly wrung out from the conversation about his father.

  “They left the inn? What’s wrong with the eats in the Sunshine Room?”

  Jada took a last swipe at the floor. “Linnie, consider it a good sign he pried her out of the south wing at all. Julia is a major introvert. Sweet, but jumpy. I feel sorry for her.”

  “This isn’t her first visit to Sweet Lake,” Cat said.

  Linnie capped the tin of polish. “I thought she rarely leaves Cincinnati.”

  “She doesn’t, not without Ryan. They’ve never visited Sweet Lake or the Wayfair, which Julia knows well. Last night, when we were bringing in their luggage, she walked right by and found the stairwell to the south wing. Like she’d done it a thousand times before.”

  Linnie’s brows lifted with fascination. “The south wing has been closed to guests for years. If she knows it, she visited the Wayfair ten, twenty years ago. Or longer.”

  “If you think that’s weird, you won’t believe this.” Cat produced the crude token Ryan had given her for safekeeping. “Julia has a whole series of these. The rest are hidden away in an old jewelry pouch in her bedroom at home.”

  Nervously, Cat placed the token on the floor between her friends. A soft gasp drifted from Jada. The tin of polish slipped from Linnie’s fingers, clattering across the floor.

  From the entryway nearest the kitchen, two of the girls from housekeeping came in swinging buckets of sudsy water. They were finishing the tidying up before Mr. Uchida and several of the men on staff brought in the long tables for next Sunday’s buffet.

  Linnie waved them off. “Daisy, Carol—would you come back in a few minutes? We need the ballroom.” After they’d gone, she studied Cat anxiously. “This is a Siren token,” she whispered.

  “Made by a kid, obviously.”

  “The Sirens don’t hand these out indiscriminately. Ask Julia how she came by one.”

  “Be realistic. I can’t play twenty questions with a woman I’ve just met.”

  “Then encourage Ryan to ask. She’s more apt to speak freely with him.”

  The suggestion only managed to increase Cat’s agitation. She’d been plagued with a sense of foreboding since Ryan explained about the name change. Julia had gone to extreme lengths to stop George Hunt from ever finding them again. Cat’s instincts warned her that the tokens were hidden out of need for self-preservation.

  Putting form to her fears, she said, “This will sound like a leap, but I’m sure the tokens are connected to Ryan’s father. Julia hid them because of George.”

  Jad
a frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. What do they have to do with her ex-husband?”

  “No clue, but George factors in.” She nearly mentioned the name change. Out of respect for Ryan’s privacy, she dismissed the impulse. “Maybe she kept them hidden from George when they were married.”

  Linnie picked up the delicate keepsake, turned it slowly in her palm. “Frances says tokens are imbued with feminine power. Didn’t she and Silvia begin making them when they established the Sirens?”

  “I thought so.” Now Cat doubted she did, in fact, know the provenance.

  “If they came up with the design, who taught Julia? She has a whole bag of these?”

  “A velvet pouch full of them. Ryan saw it right before they drove here.”

  “We have to assume she made them herself. This looks like the work of a six-year-old.”

  “Some of the others are more sophisticated. Julia made them in adulthood.”

  Linnie handed the token back. “Can’t Ryan talk to her?”

  “He won’t. He did some major lobbying just to get her to come here. He’s afraid of saying the wrong thing, of giving her an excuse to drive home. He knows how badly I want her to join us for dinner at my parents’ house. Plus we want her to experience the benefits of small-town life, in case . . .”

  Jada smiled. “There are wedding bells in your future?” Bringing Linnie up to speed, she added, “Ryan is aware Cat won’t move to the city.”

  “We haven’t gone into details, but he’s open to living in Sweet Lake if everything works out between us,” Cat put in. “Assuming his mother agrees.”

  The optimistic possibility, accenting a troubling conversation, boosted her spirits. If Julia came to enjoy her time in Sweet Lake, everything else would fall in place.

  Linnie said, “You should show the token to your mother. She may have an idea of how a child learned to make one.”

  “I’m not asking her. She’s convinced Julia will persuade me to move to Cincinnati. I get how much my mother loves me, but she’s going overboard.”

  “Why does she think Julia’s selling you on moving? You’ve just met.”