Sinister Summer

by Colleen Gleason

“I’m…I have no idea.” Ethan wasn’t really listening. Nice-looking was not the way he would have put it when it came to Diana Iverson. Sleek, cool, elegant…just itching for a man to mess up all that perfection when he got his hands all over her.

  Whoa.

  Ethan tore his attention from the ice-queen attorney before someone noticed him gawking. Like Maxine Took. He shuddered at what would happen if she did.

  “I’m going to go get some food,” he said. “Those short rib tacos smell like heaven.”

  He slipped off before anyone could ask him to bring something back for them, suddenly terrified by what could be going on in the conversation between Diana and his sister.

  Fiona and her impish personality made him very nervous.

  Chapter Seven

  “I don’t live in Wicks Hollow,” the gorgeous redhead was saying. “I just come down for a visit once in a while, so this is actually the first time I’ve been to Trib’s house. It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?”

  Diana was trying to be polite, but she couldn’t understand why this sultry gypsy had literally zeroed in on her, threading her way across the terrace like she was on a mission, then trapped her in conversation in a walled corner of the patio. She could, however, understand why Ethan would be attracted to someone like her—having been raised by a hippie and who’d written a bestselling book on, basically, the afterlife. The sultry, flowy woman seemed like a perfect match for him.

  “I hardly know anyone here myself,” Diana told her.

  “I’m Fiona, by the way.” The other woman smiled, and her eyes danced with mischief.

  “Diana Iverson. I haven’t been to this house before either.” Part of her wanted to interrogate—tactfully, of course—the woman to find out what her relationship was to Ethan, and the other part of her wanted to make an escape and talk to someone else who hadn’t just been in an intent, intimate conversation with him. “It’s a lovely home, though.”

  “Oh, what a gorgeous bracelet! Do you mind?” Fiona didn’t wait for an answer and took Diana’s hand, pulling it close to admire the sparkling metal cuff.

  “Fiona,” said a sharp voice behind them.

  Diana looked up to see Ethan standing there with an alarmed look in his eyes. His jaw was smooth from a recent shave, and his dark hair ruffled a little in the breeze. She noticed it had a few chestnut-red streaks in it now; probably from all his work in the sun. That thought had her attention wandering to the rest of him, which she’d seen all smooth and sweaty yesterday morning.

  But this evening he was fully dressed—in a casual button-down shirt of fine black fabric woven with subtle white thread, and a hemmed and creased pair of shorts. His arms and legs were bare—a tanned and muscular reminder of the rest of him.

  “I was just admiring Diana’s bracelet,” Fiona told him with a very innocent expression, turning Diana’s wrist around as if to demonstrate.

  “Sure you were,” he replied. “I thought you weren’t supposed to do that without permission.”

  Diana felt as if she were missing something important in their exchange, but the desire to escape what was clearly a comfortable and intimate relationship won out over curiosity. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Fiona. I’ll just—”

  “Oh, don’t run off,” the redhead replied with a feline smile as she continued to hold Diana’s hand. “It’s time for me to leave, and I wouldn’t want my poor brother here to be left unattended. Maxine Took might swoop in with her Cane of Death and monopolize him.”

  Brother. Diana kept her expression clear, but a little well of something pleasant bubbled up inside her. And now that she knew it, she could see the resemblance: they had the same eyes, and same thick, curling hair—although Fiona’s was fiery red. But just as clearly, she was an apple that hadn’t fallen far from their mother’s tree.

  “You’re leaving already?” Ethan asked Fiona in a suspicious voice. “It’s only eight o’clock. Maxine will have a fit.”

  “I promised Carl I’d have him back in Grand Rapids before nine-thirty, and if I don’t get started now, I won’t be able to extricate him from Trib in time,” his sister replied, looking across the terrace.

  Diana followed her gaze and saw a large blond man with classically handsome features in deep conversation with Trib.

  “I think they’re discussing Hepplewhites or early Louis the Fourteenths or something like that. Besides, I already told Maxine about our timeline, and the queen granted me permission to leave early.” Fiona grinned up at her brother from under a mass of curls. “You just have to know how to handle her.”

  “What did you do—tell her she’ll live to be a hundred?”

  Fiona merely smiled, then turned her attention back to Diana, releasing her hand at last. “Hope I’ll see you again soon.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you,” Diana replied, still feeling a little lost in the undercurrents between the Murphy siblings. Then, in a whirl of skirts and coppery curls, Fiona was off on her three-inch platform sandals, and Diana and Ethan were alone.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said, watching after his sister with exasperated affection.

  “Sorry about what?”

  He shook his head, then turned back to Diana. “Never mind. Fiona is just…Fiona. Are you having a good time?”

  “It’s a lovely party,” she replied, then took a sip of her second champagne cocktail. She concurred with the general opinion: Trib was a genius with everything from food to ambience to cocktails. “And the weather is perfect. Do they really do a bash like this for Maxine every year?”

  “I don’t know how well you know Maxine Took, but could you imagine what would happen if they didn’t throw a bash like this for her every year?”

  Diana laughed. “You have a point there.” Then she sobered self-consciously when she saw the look he gave her. Smoldering.

  “You should do that more often,” he said, holding her gaze with his. “Laugh. Smile.”

  Her cheeks went hot and Diana tore her eyes away. “I suppose we all should. Laugh more.”

  “Ethan! There you are.”

  Diana was heartily relieved by the interruption, and they turned to see Iva Bergstrom making her way toward them. She was dressed in a silky, robin’s egg shell set off by a chunky necklace of silver and blue beads. A white sweater tossed over her shoulders matched her white capris and practical, low-heeled sandals—which revealed pale coral nail polish. Iva’s fluffy hair was neat as a pin, and her round cheeks flushed with pleasure.

  She was accompanied by a handsome, distinguished looking man about her age—though he was much taller than the petite woman, and dressed in well-cut, expensive clothing that seemed a little formal for a summer patio party. He was the only other man besides Trib who was wearing a tie, and he also had on a sport coat.

  “I was hoping you’d still be here,” Iva said as she and her companion approached. “We just arrived. Was that your sister leaving just now, Ethan? With the curly red hair? I’d so wanted to meet her. Anyway, Ethan—and Diana, you too. I wanted you to meet Hollis. Hollis Nath, this is Ethan Murphy, the author of The Calm Blue Light. And this is Diana Iverson. Hollis and I met just a few months ago.”

  “Back in April—I was in the area with some business contacts for a golf outing,” said Hollis as he shook hands with Ethan and Diana. “A group of us ended up at Trib’s for dinner one night, and the Tuesday Ladies were there. Best decision I ever made, walking into Trib’s for pizza,” he said, smiling down at Iva as he patted her hand. “That’s how I met the woman who changed me.”

  Iva’s cheeks flushed more pink, but she had the same stars in her eyes that he did. “Now, Hollis, don’t be silly. You were always who you are, you just hadn’t met the right woman yet.”

  He laughed heartily. “You’re telling me. Three wives, and none of them stuck more than five years,” he said to Ethan and Diana. “Well, I’ll tell you, this one’s going to stick.” He lifted Iva’s hand to noisily kiss the back of it.

 
; “Now, Hollis,” his companion replied with a demure flutter of eyelashes. “We’ve only known each other for two months. Let’s not rush into any grand pronouncements.”

  “At our age, we don’t have time not to rush,” he said. “We aren’t getting any younger.” Then he turned his attention to Ethan. “I haven’t read your book, young man, but Iva has been talking of little else. I’m not much into all of that—what do you call it, sweetheart?”

  “You and Gideon—that’s his grandson, and just as much a stick in the mud—call it woo-woo stuff,” Iva said with an affectionate roll of her eyes. “I call it metaphysical interests.”

  “Yes,” Hollis said, still smiling. “Whatever—it’s a little out of my wheelhouse,” he said.

  “Well then you and Diana would get along quite well,” Ethan said to the older man, glancing at her with a teasing smile. “She’s a left-brained litigator and deals with facts and evidence—and avoids even a hint of hearsay like the plague.”

  “A litigator are you?” Hollis Nath looked at her with interest, then back to Iva. “Is this the young lady your friend was talking about, back in April?”

  “That’s right, darling. This is Jean Fickler’s niece—she works for one of those large law firms down in Chicago.” Iva looked at Diana. “Hollis and his grandson Gideon are partners in a very reputable firm in Grand Rapids, but they deal with wills and trusts and estate planning and all of that sort of business.”

  Nath spoke to Diana, “That’s right—I remember now; your aunt was bragging about you and some of the large cases you’d litigated. Is it McNillan or Purdy that you’re with? Forgive me, but I can’t remember what she said.”

  “I’m with McNillan,” she replied, a little abashed that her aunt had been going on about her to a group of strangers.

  “Jean had a long conversation with that other gentleman—who was it, Hollis? The bald man with the Abe Vigoda eyebrows? Turned out your Uncle Tracer had done some work for his company, Diana, way back when it was called something else, and the Abe Vigoda man and Jean were going on about how it was such a small world that they should meet up in little old Wicks Hollow.” She looked up at her companion with those same starry eyes. “I thought maybe it might be the beginning of a special friendship for Jean, just like you and I, Hollis…but now she’s gone.” Iva sighed, and sadness limned her eyes.

  “And that,” said he quietly, “is exactly why, at our age, there’s no time to waste, sweetheart.”

  Iva was gazing up at him, and Hollis down at her—and suddenly Diana felt as if she and Ethan, and everyone else at the party, had disappeared from the scene—and that the older couple were, for all they noticed or cared, completely alone.

  For some reason, that realization made her both hopeful and sad. Deeply sad.

  The sun was low and the sky had become a dark, rich blue. Trib lit the logs in the wrought iron-enclosed fire pit and brought out a sea of citronella candles. Maxine had opened all of her gifts, and the loud voices of the party had begun to wind down—mainly because the guest of honor had left.

  “I turn into a pumpkin at ten o’clock,” Maxine was fond of saying.

  “A pumpkin? How about a witch?” Baxter had muttered to Ethan.

  “No, that’s her until ten o’clock,” he replied, and they clinked beer glasses, sharing the joke.

  Despite missing Jean, Ethan had enjoyed the evening immensely, chatting with everyone from Maxine herself, to Mirabella and Reggie, to Cherry and Trib, to Orbra and her husband, and more. He and Bax and Declan Zyler had spent a good fifteen minutes discussing the prospects for the two big college football rivalries in the state, and who was going to end up Big Ten Champ.

  Now he lingered on the lower terrace still talking to Baxter and Declan while he tried to keep from watching Diana. She sat nearby on one of the sofas, deep in conversation with Emily Delton as a half-empty champagne flute dangled from her fingers.

  “I’m going to see if Emily needs a ride home,” Baxter said, casting a glance at Declan. When his perceived rival didn’t seem to care, Bax tossed down the last glug of his beer, smoothed his very close-cropped hair, and squared his shoulders.

  “I’ve got to get going myself,” said the blacksmith as Baxter walked off. “Still not used to this single-dad stuff, and I like to be home by eleven. Even though she’s fifteen, that just doesn’t seem old enough for Steph to be home alone after dark.” Declan gave a pained smile and Ethan nodded.

  “I don’t have children, but I’ve got a dog. Sometimes it feels almost like the same thing. But most of the time—not so much.”

  They laughed companionably and Declan clapped him on the shoulder in a casual manner. “Let me know when you want me to take a look at your upper deck railing. Sounds like it wouldn’t be too big of a job—I can probably squeeze it in between two restorations I’m working on in Grand Rapids.” He paused before he started off. “And good luck, man.”

  When Ethan looked at him in confusion, Declan jerked a thumb toward Diana and grinned. “Like I said, good luck.”

  “Right.” Feeling a little exposed, Ethan shook his new friend’s hand in farewell, then ambled toward the sofa where Diana and Emily Delton were sitting.

  As he approached, he heard the two women talking about a blowout and a gloss treatment.

  Hmm. Cars? Maybe. But only because it was Emily, who owned the spa and salon outside of town, he guessed their conversation probably referred to something mysteriously feminine.

  As Baxter took a seat next to Emily, who half-turned on the sofa toward him with a smile (that was encouraging), Ethan touched the back of the couch behind Diana.

  She craned her head around. “Oh, Ethan,” she said, rising immediately, “I was just thinking about you.”

  He looked down into her eyes, his heart stuttering a little. “Were you?”

  He didn’t intend for his voice to rumble so low and be filled with such meaningful interest—but there it was, helped along by the several beers he’d had over the evening and the fact that he’d been thinking about her all night.

  And her response—eyes widening in surprise and a little confusion—was just fine with him. There was something about Diana Iverson that made him want to set her off balance whenever possible. Shake up that stiff lawyerly attitude and give her something to think about other than that damned cardiologist.

  Stir the pot. Hmph. Maybe he was more like Fiona than he wanted to admit.

  “Want to give me the details?” he asked, resisting the desire to step closer. He could smell her perfume though—a soft and feminine essence that delivered a little punch to the gut. Her scent mingling with the woodsmoke from the fire pit and the silver moonlight filtering over the dark curls of her hair made an irresistible combination. And her bare neck…it was so long and smooth and creamy and inviting…

  “I was just…” It seemed he’d succeeded in tipping her out of that prim reserve, for she seemed unable to collect her thoughts. “I meant to tell you that I picked up a copy of your book at Pam’s book shop, and I’m looking forward to reading it.”

  “Then I’m looking forward to hearing what you think—you being someone who’s not all that receptive to elements of the metaphysical or supernatural.”

  She looked away, and for a moment he thought she was about to respond to his delicate prod. Maybe even with a little fire—which he realized he would enjoy. But instead, she said, “I’d better find Cherry. I’m sure she’s ready to leave.”

  And that was when Ethan was, thankfully, able to disrupt her even more. “Cherry’s already gone. She has a six a.m. yoga class, and she drove Maxine back too. I told Cherry I’d take you home—since it’s on my way.” Kind of.

  “Oh.” Her pretty mouth formed a circle that was glossy, soft, and inviting rather than tight and pruny. “Well, that’s nice of you. Thank you.”

  “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

  She looked around. “Shouldn’t we help clean up?”

  “I asked Trib, b
ut he’s got his crew from the restaurant here. They’ll all sit around and drink the rest of the champagne and beer, eat the leftover food, and have it all cleaned up by around three in the morning. It’s sort of a tradition.”

  “Well, then, yes—I’m ready to go. It’s nearly eleven.”

  She said goodbye to Trib, then started to walk up the terrace steps to the house and, presumably, to the driveway.

  “Diana? This way.” Ethan gestured down toward the lake with his thumb. “I came by boat.”

  “Oh,” she said again, looking down at her pristine white dress and silvery, high heeled sandals. She didn’t sound happy.

  “Don’t worry. I promise you won’t end up in the lake,” he said, then gestured to the set of stairs that led down to Trib’s dock.

  She looked as if she wanted to argue, then, with a shrug, began to descend the stairs.

  “A canoe?” she said, stopping short when she saw his vessel tied up at the dock.

  “It’s cleaner than my fishing boat,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll put my jacket over the seat, though, to make sure your dress doesn’t get dirty.” He did so, then turned back to her. “Let me help you in—it’s a little tippy.”

  Once he got Diana in the front of the canoe, facing the stern, Ethan climbed in the back. “Good night,” he called, waving up to Trib as he pushed away from the dock.

  “Good night.” Their host’s voice carried easily across the widening expanse of water as they drifted out into the silent, black lake. Even the wave-runners and motorboats had gone in for the night.

  For a moment, there was only the fading sound of the last of the guests, then the soft plop of the paddle into the water and a quiet dripping as Ethan changed sides with the oar. The light from the shore grew fainter, leaving only the moon and stars and the disappearing sun to light the darkness.

  Tall trees made a dark, forbidding fringe along the shoreline, and there were occasional splashes of light from houses or docks. But most of the illumination came from the quickly darkening western horizon. A streak of bright red glazed the sky where the sun had just dropped behind the forest, and then it, too, faded.