The Lakeside Inn

by Leeanna Morgan

That evening, Penny knocked on Wyatt’s front door. She inhaled the rich, sweet scent of the pasta sauce he was cooking and smiled. It reminded her of the amazing meals she’d had with her grandparents.

  The door opened and Wyatt grinned. “Hi. How are your arms?”

  “Still a little sore from moving the furniture. Something smells yummy.” She handed him a bottle of red wine.

  “It’s my grandma’s secret spaghetti sauce recipe,” he said proudly. “It’s foolproof and guaranteed to make you come back for seconds.”

  “In that case, I’m glad I came. Did you get a lot of painting done this afternoon?” Wyatt had stayed with them until her truck pulled away from the old steamboat museum building. She’d never been happier to see a piece of furniture sitting in her grandparents’ living room, or more worried that it had taken too much time.

  Wyatt walked through to the kitchen. “I spent four hours painting. I’ll get another couple of hours done before I go to bed tonight.”

  “Thanks for helping this morning.”

  “You’re welcome. Even though the dresser was empty, I’m glad we found it. What did your mom say when she saw it?”

  Penny hesitated before answering. “She cried. She misses Grandma and seeing the dresser made her wish she was here.”

  Wyatt stopped by the kitchen counter. “How are you feeling about your grandma?”

  “I miss her, too. We all do.”

  He held her hands and stroked her skin with his thumb. “You pick a rose from your garden most mornings.”

  “You see me?”

  Wyatt nodded. “I usually have breakfast about the same time you come outside.”

  “Roses were Grandma’s favorite flower. When they lived at their previous house, Granddad used to grow them in his greenhouse so Grandma had fresh roses all year.”

  “She must have enjoyed that.”

  “She did. We left her rocking chair in the circular room overlooking the lake. I place a fresh rose in there most mornings, just for Grandma.”

  Wyatt’s hands tightened around hers. “That’s a wonderful thing to do.”

  Penny breathed through the knot of grief clogging her throat. “My family is trying hard to support each other. It helps that Mom’s such an extrovert. If you’re having a bad day, she wants to know how you feel, why you feel that way, and what you’re doing to feel better. The rose is my feel better solution. Barbara bakes and Diana takes Charlie for long walks.”

  Wyatt left a tender kiss on her cheek. “If you ever run out of roses, come and see me. I’ll paint one for you.”

  Despite the wave of sadness that had washed over her, she smiled. “In fifty years’ time, it could be worth a million dollars. Just think how many roses I could buy with that kind of money.”

  Wyatt tapped the end of her nose. “If I don’t finish the last two paintings going to Berlin, the picture won’t be worth anything. My reputation will sink like a stone to the bottom of the lake and no one will buy my paintings.”

  “It can’t be as bad as that?”

  “Not quite.” He smiled as he turned to stir the pasta sauce. “But I wouldn’t count on being a millionaire from one painting.”

  “Oh, well,” Penny said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll just have to be content with what I’ve got. Can I help with dinner?”

  “Nope. I’m all organized. I’ll pour you a glass of wine and then you can tell me about the rest of your day.”

  Penny sat on a kitchen stool. “There isn’t much to tell. I spent most of the afternoon researching what other Bed and Breakfasts are offering their guests.”

  “And?”

  “Their services and facilities are as different as night and day. Once we settle on a room rate, it will make deciding what we’ll offer a lot easier. I also called a couple of lake cruise companies and some fishing guides. We can definitely offer a lot of outdoor options.”

  “That has to be an advantage over places that don’t have a lake nearby.”

  “It is. Diana’s been working on menu options and finding the best places to advertise. Barbara’s busy designing websites for three new clients, and Katie is still in Los Angeles.”

  Wyatt handed her a glass of wine. “Is she coming home?”

  “I don’t know. All of us are feeling on edge while we wait to see what she does.”

  “One of my brothers is like Katie. It doesn’t matter what you say to him, he does what he wants. He’s a good person, but it can be frustrating. Hopefully, she’ll realize it’s important to be here.”

  “I hope so.”

  Wyatt placed uncooked spaghetti pasta into a saucepan of boiling water. “What happened to the box the key was in?”

  This time, the smile on Penny’s face was less strained. “A man called Nick Costas owns an art gallery in Bozeman. He knows people all over the world who deal in anything from sculptures to hugely expensive paintings. He’s asked one of his friends to have a look at it and give us an idea of its age and where it was made.”

  “That will be helpful.”

  Penny nodded. It could also be one of their last chances to find more information about her great-grandfather. “He doesn’t think it will take too long for his friend to answer our questions.”

  “That’s good.” Wyatt held his hand under a wooden spoon and brought it across to her. “Taste this and tell me what you think.”

  She ate a small mouthful of the rich tomato sauce and smiled. “It’s delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it. All I have to do is take the salad out of the refrigerator, cut a loaf of bread into thick slices, drain the pasta, and pour myself a glass of wine.”

  Penny slid off the stool. “I’ll pour your wine and get the salad.”

  Wyatt wrapped his arms around her waist. “I like your priorities.”

  “You can never go wrong with a glass of wine.”

  “Or someone to share it with.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I like your priorities, too.”

  Chapter 12

  Later that week, Wyatt arrived at the tiny home village with chalk, paint, and paintbrushes in all shapes and sizes.

  “It looks as though we’ll be busy,” Ethan said behind him.

  He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “We have two hours to outline the murals on the garages. I’m not sure we can do it in that time, but we’ll give it our best shot.”

  Ethan picked up a box. “I heard you found Penny’s great-grandparents’ furniture in the old steamboat museum.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Mabel’s keeping everyone up to date with what’s happening on the community Facebook page. She even added a picture of the dresser.”

  Ethan had warned him that Mabel knew everything that was happening in Sapphire Bay. The community Facebook page had become her primary way of sharing information with the rest of the town. He had no problem with her telling everyone about her own family. But, from what he’d seen, she sometimes went a little far when she shared information about other people.

  “Don’t be so worried,” Ethan assured him. “She’s doing it for the right reasons. Mabel’s hoping someone will read the posts and know something about her grandfather.”

  The chance of that happening was fairly low, but he knew how much it meant to Penny and her family to solve the mystery of their ancestor’s disappearance. “We were hoping there would be something in the dresser that would tell us what happened to him.”

  “Judging by the comments at the bottom of the post, so was half of Sapphire Bay. Don’t be surprised if Mabel shows up today. She wants to do a post about the murals.”

  Wyatt took two cans of paint off the truck. “We’d better get started, then. How many volunteers are here?”

  “Fifteen. They’re hanging the stencils on the wall as we speak.”

  A few days ago, Wyatt had met with a group of volunteers and explained the next stage of the painting process. The teams had already decided on the design of the murals and made
draft images. With the help of the volunteers, he’d transferred their ideas to stencils, and they were now ready to be hung this morning. After that, it was only a matter of filling in the gaps.

  “You should know that Jack and Richard aren’t here.”

  That surprised Wyatt. “When I saw them last week, they were excited about the project. What’s happened?” He left the first two cans of paint in the shade of a tree and returned to the truck for more.

  “Richard isn’t doing too well. The new pain medication his doctor prescribed is causing other issues. He’s had to stop taking it.”

  “Is there something else he can have?”

  “That’s what his doctor is looking into now. But, in the meantime, he’s using his wheelchair a lot more. That’s causing other issues that aren’t pain-related.”

  Ethan didn’t need to explain what he meant. Wyatt had already seen the difference it made to Richard when he was standing upright. He had more confidence and a more balanced view of the world. When he was sitting in the wheelchair, it seemed to dominate his personality and make him feel less than who he was.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Once everyone knows what they’re doing, I could supervise the teams while you talk to him. Jack doesn’t understand what’s happening to his dad and that makes the situation even worse.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “I’d appreciate it. How’s the portrait coming along?”

  “Slowly. I’m concentrating on my other paintings at the moment. Don’t tell me Mabel’s updating everyone about that, as well?”

  “Nope. On that matter, her lips are sealed.”

  Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You’ll have to tell everyone who you are sooner or later.”

  The paintbrushes landed on the ground beside the paint. “I’d rather it be later.”

  “Does Penny know who you are?”

  “She knows I paint using the name W.J. Johnson, and she knows about Anya.”

  “Everything about her?”

  Wyatt refused to look at his friend. If he did, Ethan would know he hadn’t told Penny the entire truth.

  Ethan stood beside him with his hands on his hips. “We talked about this.”

  “No. You talked about my inability to deal with Anya’s death. It’s not easy telling someone you care about that you killed your wife.”

  “You didn’t kill her. It was a tragic accident.”

  “An accident that was my fault. If I’d paid more attention to the road, she wouldn’t be dead.”

  “Would it have made you feel better if you’d been left with serious injuries?”

  Wyatt glared at his friend. “If you’d asked me that three years ago, I would have said yes. But I doubt even death could have made me feel less guilty for what I did.”

  “And now?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re not my psychiatrist.”

  “Maybe I should have been.”

  Wyatt strode back to the truck and handed Ethan two more cans of paint. “What if Penny thinks I’m the jerk I used to be?”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  “Do you know how much I hate it when you answer a question with another question?”

  “Sometimes it’s the only way to make you question what you’re saying.” Ethan frowned. “From what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me, Penny likes you. Maybe you should give her the benefit of the doubt and trust that she knows you better than you think she does.”

  “What if she doesn’t know me?”

  “Then you need to show her who you are.”

  Wyatt’s heart sank. That would mean letting her into the deepest, darkest part of who he was. And that person scared him more than pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

  An hour later, Wyatt knocked on the door to Richard and Jack’s tiny home.

  When Jack opened the door, his little face was so sad that Wyatt wanted to give him a hug.

  “We can’t help you today. Dad’s leg is sore.”

  “That’s okay. We’re only outlining the design. There’ll be plenty of time for you to paint the mural. I came to see how you are.”

  Richard wheeled himself to the door. “I thought I heard your voice. I’m sorry about today. It’s not a good time.”

  “That’s okay. How are you feeling?”

  Richard frowned. “I’m okay.”

  “Ethan said if you want Jack to help with the art project, he’ll look after him and bring him home after we’ve finished.”

  The hopeful expression on Jack’s face was heartbreaking. “Please, Dad. I’d really like to go.”

  Richard looked at his son. “Ethan will be busy doing other things.”

  “It’s okay,” Wyatt assured him. “There’s plenty of staff from The Welcome Center helping.”

  Jack’s hand tightened on the arm of his dad’s wheelchair. “Please, Dad. I’ll be good.”

  Reluctantly, Richard nodded. “All right, but you need to come home as soon as everyone’s finished.”

  “Yeah!” Jack threw his arms around his dad. “I’ll be back real soon, just wait and see.”

  “Take an old T-shirt,” Richard reminded him. “And if you have any questions, ask Ethan.”

  As soon as Jack found a T-shirt, he raced outside, running at full speed toward the garages.

  It was time for Wyatt to push the boundary of the friendship he’d made with Richard. He knew how quickly pain and grief could eat you alive. It didn’t matter how it found you, it colored everything you did and made it hard for anyone living with you.

  The last person Richard would want to hurt was his son, but Jack was part of his father’s pain whether or not Richard wanted him to be.

  “I was speaking to Ethan. He said you’ve had a bad reaction to the new pain medication the doctor gave you.”

  “He shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “The only reason he told me was because I asked where you were. I know what you’re going through.”

  Richard grunted. “You wouldn’t know what I’m going through unless you’ve lost a limb. And from what I can see, you’ve still got two arms and two legs.”

  “You’re right, but I know what it’s like to have your life fall apart. Three years ago, my wife died in a car accident. It was my fault.”

  Some of the tension on Richard’s face disappeared. “I’m sorry. It must have been devastating.”

  “It was. I wanted to dull the pain, so I tried all kinds of prescription drugs. It wasn’t until I went to a counselor that I began to accept what had happened.”

  “I spent a year talking to a psychologist.”

  “Did it help?”

  “A little, but it didn’t help the physical pain of my amputation.”

  “What did your doctor say?”

  Richard pushed his wheelchair backward. For a second, Wyatt thought he was going to shut the door. But he motioned for him to come inside. “You might as well sit down while we talk.”

  Wyatt stepped inside and looked around the tiny home.

  “This home is bigger than the others. It makes it easier for me to move around with my wheelchair. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

  “That would be great.”

  Richard turned on the coffeepot and took some mugs out of a drawer. “My first doctor was all about using drugs to deal with the pain. I was like a zombie when I was taking them. After I moved here, I started seeing the local doctor, Zac Williams. We’re trying some different meds and alternative therapies. I had a reaction to one pill and ended up in the hospital for a few days.”

  “Is there anything else Zac can give you?”

  “I’m taking other pain medication, but it doesn’t last as long as the others. The best thing would be to get a new prosthetic leg. I thought I was getting one, but my insurance company won’t cover the cost.”

  Wyatt felt for him. It was hard enough being a single parent. Having to take pain medication to get through each day added anot
her layer of complexity to Richard’s life. “Are there any funding organizations that could help?”

  “Zac gave me a list, so I’m going through those and filling out the forms. Working at the old steamboat museum, helps. But on the days when I need to use my chair, it’s impossible.

  “You can always call me. I can help with whatever you need—even if it’s looking after Jack.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the offer.”

  How often had he said the same thing? “I mean it,” Wyatt said. “You have a good life and an amazing son. Jack needs as much support as you do, and I can help. What’s the most important thing you need right now?”

  Richard sat silently for a few seconds. “If you know anyone who makes prosthetic legs, let me know.”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows rose. Why didn’t he think of his friend sooner?

  “You know someone?”

  “I helped an organization in New York City a few years ago. I met someone who used 3D technology to create medical devices.” Peter did a lot more than that now, and he might be able to help Richard. “I’ll call him.”

  “Thanks. If he can’t help, it doesn’t matter. Would you mind if we went to see what Jack’s doing?”

  Wyatt smiled. “That’s a great idea.” And before Richard changed his mind, Wyatt opened the door and waited for him on the veranda.

  Penny was in a deep sleep, dreaming about steamboats, when the floorboards in her bedroom creaked. She leapt out of bed, caught her foot on the edge of a blanket, and ended up flat on her back on the floor.

  “Are you all right?” Barbara whispered.

  With her hand on her pounding heart, Penny stared at her sister. “What on earth are you doing in my room? It’s still dark.”

  Barbara held her finger to her lips. “Ssh! You’ll wake Diana and Charlie.”

  After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Penny sat up and paid closer attention to what her sister was holding. “You bought me a present?”

  “That’s usually what you do when it’s someone’s birthday.”

  Penny frowned.

  “I can’t believe it. You forgot it was your birthday?”

  She pulled herself to her feet. “I remembered a few days ago, but I lost track of what day it is.” Penny rubbed her sore arms. In the last week they’d spent a lot of hours remodeling the house and moving furniture. On top of that, she’d had dinner with Wyatt twice and rescued Charlie when he ran into the lake trying to catch a bird.