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

by Christine Nolfi

  “My manliness isn’t in dispute? Good to hear,” he remarked dryly. He held his palm out. “Will you give me the stuff you lifted from Cat’s desk? Because, you know, it’s not yours.”

  The observation drew an ill-humored grunt. She tripped her attention down his navy suit, coming to rest on his polished shoes. “Take a load off your Ferragamos. We need to talk.”

  “May I have a rain check?” If she’d brought menacing fruit for the unscheduled tête-à-tête, he was out of here.

  “Not happening.”

  Against his better judgment, he joined her on the couch. “I’m afraid to ask what’s on the agenda.” With luck she’d make this quick.

  “I suppose you’re aware Silvia didn’t take kindly to your mother thumbing her nose at Tuesday’s invitation. This morning she nearly mowed me down in the grocery store with her shopping cart. She was muttering at the canned tomatoes, and she hurled so many insults at a roaster in the meat department, I was sure that chicken would start shouting back. She scared Ozzie Riddle right out of the store when she went rambling down aisle two, screaming for the manager. Doesn’t take much for Silvia to ignite the pilot light on her temper. By the way, you missed out on Marco’s beef enchiladas.”

  “We’ll be there tonight, I hope. And my mother didn’t thumb her nose.”

  “Whatever.” With an angry little gesture, Ruth flipped her white braids from her shoulders. “I’ll do what I can to sway Julia. Not making any promises. I will tell you this. If she cancels again, no one is safe in Mill’s Groceries.”

  How could Ruth sway his mother, who’d met only Jada since arriving Sunday night? Julia had even declined Cat’s invitation on Monday to come downstairs to meet Linnie.

  A more worrisome thought intruded. If the quirky Siren took to rattling her gourd in the south wing, the stab at misdirected friendship would scare his mother witless.

  A possible calamity he set aside as Ruth jumped into another topic. “When you do have dinner with Cat’s parents, don’t let Silvia intimidate you,” she advised in an unexpectedly friendly tone. “An April storm has less bluster than Silvia when she’s on a roll. It’s just her way of looking out for her daughter.”

  “I have the impression she’s very protective.”

  “Cat’s the only one she guards like a she-wolf. Her other kids have more leeway.”

  The revelation lifted his brows. “Why only Cat?”

  “Silvia almost lost her.” Ruth’s attention drifted back to the artwork, her expression clouding. “Ryan, get your keister back to primary school. There’s another typo, right here.”

  He pushed the sketches away, forcing her beady, intelligent gaze back on him. “What do you mean, she almost lost Cat?” He couldn’t imagine losing Cat, now that he’d found her.

  Ruth slapped his knee with the delicacy of a lumberjack. “Seems you don’t know everything, hotshot.”

  “Who said I did?”

  “Not me, seeing how you can’t spell. How’s your grammar? If you’re writing whole paragraphs for the Wayfair, I should give your composition a look-see.”

  “Ruth, I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon reading the dictionary if you’ll fill me in on the secret about Cat.”

  With a bony finger, she motioned him near. He visualized a bubbling cauldron and a witch cackling madly—a random thought he discarded as she leaned close. He did want a better understanding of Silvia’s protective streak, which his unlikely companion was happy to explain.

  “Your sweetheart was a preemie, born two months early. Looked like a tiny wisp of baby flesh with nothing but those big brown eyes to latch her on to this world. Mind you, Cat’s thirty now. Back then an early baby didn’t always leave the hospital in her mama’s arms. The doctor wasn’t confident of Cat’s chances. Marco took the news well enough.”

  “And Silvia?”

  “She keened loud enough to open the gates of heaven. She must’ve been summoning every last angel to aid in saving her newborn. There’s nothing worse than seeing a strong woman fall to pieces while her baby clings to life.” A remnant of those dark days swirled around Ruth. “When Silvia and Marco finally brought her home, Cat wasn’t much bigger than a newborn pup. Crying every minute, having trouble bringing air into her tiny lungs—that poor baby didn’t sleep more than thirty minutes at a stretch. All of the Sirens took turns helping Silvia out.”

  “Including you?”

  “Back then, I was a dispatcher for the PD. I looked after Cat in the early morning, before I went in for my shift.”

  Nothing in her demeanor spoke to feminine instincts. Yet she possessed the devotion to care for a newborn before heading into work.

  “It was kind of you to watch over Cat when she needed you most,” he said with husky appreciation.

  “Not a kindness done in secret like the Sirens are supposed to do, but a kindness all the same.”

  “You’re a good woman, Ruth.”

  His sincerity loosened her tongue further. “We weren’t Sirens then,” she confided. “Truth be told, Cat helped bring us together as a group. Frances too, after she went through her difficult spell. There was a family tragedy, something she wouldn’t discuss with anyone but Silvia.”

  Ryan nodded sympathetically. Contrary to his initial conclusion, more bound the women together than a penchant for craft projects and magical beliefs about feminine power. They sheltered each other through life’s most difficult events.

  He regarded her with the respect that was her due. “I appreciate the background,” he said. “I doubt Cat would’ve filled me in.”

  “She was a sickly kid all through elementary school. Got her health straightened away by junior high, and never looked back. Besides, the one with the problem is Silvia. Don’t take her moods personally.”

  The gentle reassurance—coming from the most unusual source—put a lump in Ryan’s throat.

  Abruptly she got to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me. My four o’clock has arrived.”

  With a stiff nod, she rounded the coffee table and strode into the lobby. Gathering up the sketches, he started back for Cat’s office. He caught something out of the corner of his eye.

  The sheets fluttered from his hands.

  In the lobby, his mother waited in an unfamiliar wide-brimmed hat. A band of silk daisies festooned the rim. Dressed in khakis and her pink gym shoes, she waved timidly at Ruth.

  They were nearly out the door before Ryan scooped up the sketches and sprinted to catch up.

  “You’re going out?” It was a beautiful afternoon, but she’d rarely left her suite since checking in.

  “Only for a short while. Ruth offered to take me for a walk on the beach.”

  “We’re not walking on the tourist side of the lake,” Ruth clarified. Hitching her fingers in the pockets of her baggy jeans, she seemed aware of his mother’s desire to keep a low profile. “We’ll drive over to the north side, walk around there.”

  “Thanks for showing her around,” he said, unable to shake off his shock.

  “I’ll have her back in time to dress for dinner.” She regarded his mother. “Silvia’s expecting you at seven?”

  A stubborn little silence rose between them. Ruth seemed about to add something else, but thought better of it.

  Smoothing over the impasse, he said, “Don’t worry about dinner.” Evidently his mother was still on the fence. “There’s lots of time to decide. Enjoy the stroll.”

  He rocked back on his heels as they trotted across the veranda and disappeared down the steps. They’d reached Ruth’s truck when Cat walked up.

  The pull of an unusual sight tipped her forward on the toes of her pumps. “Your mother’s going out?”

  “Walk by the lake. North side, to avoid tourists.”

  “How did she meet Ruth?”

  “Man, would I love to know.”

  Sorting it out, Cat murmured, “Hear the Siren’s call, and give kindness in secret.” Mischief glossed her features. “Forget it. You’re a guy. You w
on’t understand.”

  “Guys have brains too.” During his conversation with Ruth, he’d wondered at her comment about kindness. “Try me.”

  “The Sirens are big on practicing virtues. They see it as a way to strengthen their feminine power.”

  “Giving kindness in secret is one of their sayings?” If so, it was a keeper.

  “They prefer to lend help without being obvious. This is Ruth’s way of getting Julia past her bashfulness. A kindness done in secret.”

  “She marched into the south wing and introduced herself? That’s an awfully gutsy move. I’m amazed my mother let her into the suite.”

  “Knowing Ruth, she refused to leave until Julia did. She’s not exactly fainthearted.”

  “No, that’s my mother’s special talent.” Mulling it over, he added, “It’s just as plausible Ruth did this to help your mother.” He skipped an explanation of Silvia scaring people in the grocery store by roaring down the aisles. He didn’t like upsetting Cat.

  “I’m sure Ruth knows how angry Mami was over last night’s cancellation. Intel passes swiftly through the Sirens. By now, they’re all looking for ways to get her to swallow a chill pill.”

  Cat had accepted last night’s cancellation with grace, but there’d been no missing her disappointment. Disappointing her again—or her parents—was out of the question.

  “Ruth will lobby my mother to make a grand entrance tonight.” He grunted. “Personally, I’d consider it a kindness done in secret.”

  Cat smiled with false cheer. “Let’s hope she’s successful.”

  Chapter 18

  Cursing, George swerved across the lanes of heavy traffic. A horn blared from behind as he zoomed down the exit for Sweet Lake.

  Three days wasted. On Monday, his parole officer had handed over a whole list of garages to check for work. No bites yet, and the boss at each place pushed through the interview like he couldn’t wait to throw George out. Pulling a week in the Hamilton County Justice Center for nonpayment of fines didn’t make him a criminal.

  It was his first stint behind bars—and his last. After he soaked Frances for enough greenbacks, he was leaving Ohio forever.

  He never should’ve come all those years ago looking for Julia, thinking they’d patch things up. When she didn’t turn up, he got into the habit of drifting back to Ohio for no good reason, staying in a lousy job until he got fired, dating chicks who weren’t half as classy as his ex. Sometimes he’d drink alone late into the night, wondering where she’d gone.

  After Twin Falls, she’d disappeared completely.

  He no longer cared about her. Years of working dead-end jobs had killed everything he’d once felt for her, the love and the hate. All he wanted now was a payoff to get him a decent place to live and enough cash to buy the drinks until he found a woman to put him up long term.

  Enough money to drive back out West, and stop drifting.

  Reveling in the dream, he slowed the car on Highland Avenue. He’d find a babe in California, someone fifteen years younger. Let her cover the bills while he slept in late and spent the afternoons at a sports bar until she clocked out for the day.

  The fantasy carried him down the wide boulevard. There wasn’t anyone in sight. His confidence rising, he pulled to the curb.

  From the first floor, the grandfather clock chimed four o’clock.

  Removing a dress from the walk-in closet, Frances laid it on the bed with the others. At this rate, she’d never decide what to wear.

  Despite Silvia’s negativity about breaking bread with Julia D’Angelo, Frances looked forward to the evening. She was fond of Cat, and hoped her relationship with the young man from Adworks proved enduring.

  Sweet Lake wasn’t swimming in eligible bachelors. Cat deserved to land with a quality man, someone who’d cherish her and earn a respectable income. She’d dated enough dolts in her twenties. Sorting through the dresses, Frances recalled a perpetual student from Cat’s inglorious past who never managed to earn a degree but did stick her with the check for most of their dates. They’d carried on for months before the optimistic girl wised up.

  Her promising romance wasn’t the only reason for Frances’s good mood. Returning to the closet, she reflected on yesterday’s auspicious meeting with the young woman attending Kent State, Gemma Mills. Courage didn’t usually develop in one so young. In many people, it never developed at all.

  The example of a college student embarking on the noble pursuit of finding her half brother nearly made up for all the young people who squandered time photographing their food when they ought to get involved with good causes.

  She was adding another dress to the selections on the bed when the doorbell rang. Displeasure fizzed through her as she hurried down the stairwell. Anyone but Norah, please. The Siren was still hopping mad because Silvia hadn’t asked her to join them for dinner with the D’Angelos.

  Smoothing her hair in place, Frances swung open the door. She stared at her ex-brother-in-law for a full ten seconds before she had the sense to close her mouth.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  It was stunning how little he’d aged since their last meeting. He still looked like a man in his forties, still possessed the striking good looks that had once ensnared her sister. A sickening wash of memories drove through Frances. Dizzy, she tried to catch her breath.

  “Is this any way to treat kin? I’m coming in, whether you like it or not.” George brushed past. He walked to the end of the foyer, retraced his steps. “Are you alone? I’ve got news you’ll want to hear.”

  “Get out.” She gripped the doorknob like a lifeline. “I told you the last time. I’m done helping you.”

  “Hell, Frances. That’s not the way I remember it. Your bitchy friend told me to hit the road. She came at me with a broom even. Silvia isn’t here, is she?”

  “Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

  Eyes narrowing, he weighed the weak threat. “No, you’re not.” Peeling her fingers from the doorknob, he kicked the door shut. “Why don’t you sit down before you fall down? This is about your sister.”

  She listed slightly, not daring to believe. George Hunt had blackened her life for years. He’d appear unexpectedly, needing money, working on her sympathies until she relented. Never did he bring up the sister she’d lost due to him.

  This was yet another ploy, his lowest one yet.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, despising the tiny thread of hope weaving through the words.

  Satisfaction glittered in his eyes. “Take my word for it, Frances. You’ll want to sit down for this.”

  “There’s a crisis?” Eyes fixed on her smartphone, Cat strolled into the Wayfair’s kitchen. Sending the text, she looked up. “What’s with all the lettuce?”

  On the center island, the mountain of romaine rose nearly to Linnie’s head. Jada was more visible for the simple fact she kept pacing, her ebony curls bouncing. Her brow puckered with consternation.

  “We’ve got a problem,” she said.

  Cat eyed the mother lode of fresh produce. “No way did Ellis order this much romaine.” Each plastic bag in the pyramid-shaped tower contained two heads of the spring-green lettuce.

  “He didn’t. Delivery came early. One of the kitchen assistants signed for it.”

  Cat surveyed the three women and two men lined up near the stove like ducks in a shooting gallery. They scattered beneath her look of disgust.

  To Linnie, she said, “Call back the truck, explain there’s been a mistake.”

  “I’ve already talked to them. The romaine was meant for the Sheraton off Route Fifty, but we shouldn’t have signed for it.” Linnie strolled down the island, her attention flicking across the other produce that had arrived in more reasonable quantities. “We’re too far away for the truck to come back, so they sent another truck from the warehouse to fulfill the Sheraton’s order. I agreed to keep the lettuce for a seventy percent discount.”

/>   “We’ll work it into the menu,” Jada put in. “I’ll take half for the Sunday buffet, and add Caesar salad to the menu.”

  Cat poked at a bag. “You need other ideas to use up the rest?”

  Jada sent a teasing glance. “Better grab the Magic 8 Ball you hide in your office and check our chances of using up this much lettuce. And, yeah, we need ideas for main entrée salads.”

  Requesting guidance from a silly children’s toy wasn’t necessary. “Romaine with mandarin oranges and chicken,” Cat suggested.

  Linnie picked up a bunch of celery. “We don’t have mandarin oranges.”

  “Then serve meal-sized Caesar salads with grilled chicken or salmon.”

  Jada waved off the suggestion. “We’ll run out of anchovies. I need them for Sunday’s buffet.”

  From the doorway, Ruth said, “Three college-educated women, and not half a brain between you.” She tromped forward trailing sand from the hem of her jeans. “Put Cobb salad on the lunch and dinner menus. Ham is always available at the Wayfair. You’ve got eggs galore. Scratch Ellis’s blue-cheese dressing from the regular menu if you’re worried about running low on cheese.”

  Nearly two hours had passed since the gruff Siren left the inn with Ryan’s mother. Cat tiptoed toward the corridor in hopes of spotting Julia. Her heart fell. The corridor was empty.

  “She went to her room,” Ruth told her. “The walk on the beach wore her out.”

  Cat wanted to ask if Julia was upstairs dressing for dinner. Unfortunately the mountain of green snagged Ruth’s attention.

  Linnie said, “Cobb salad sounds great, but we don’t have avocados. If I ask our supplier to bring them on short notice, I’ll pay a fortune.”

  Jada held up an apple. “Let’s put an autumn spin on the salads.” She began stacking the fruit in small piles.

  Grabbing the opportunity, Cat pulled Ruth aside. “Did Julia say anything about dinner? My parents are expecting us in an hour. I can’t bear to disappoint them two days in a row.”

  The question floated past the diminutive Siren. “You’ve got enough lettuce here to feed half the town.” She licked her lips. “I like romaine.”