Catching the subtext, Gemma said, “I’m cool. A little nervous, but I’m handling it.”
From behind their merry hostess, Patty leaned sideways to mouth the question, What’s with her?
Gemma lifted her shoulders a nearly imperceptible degree.
Oblivious to the exchange, Penelope clapped her hands together. “Well, let’s get you settled. Right this way, girls.”
If the exterior of the house brought to mind a fairytale, the guest bedroom added marvelously to the effect. From the canopy above the four-poster bed, tiny silver stars, similar to those decorating Penelope’s flowing caftan, spun aimlessly on shimmery golden threads. The walls, painted midnight blue, showed off celestial paintings of the heavens in heavy, burnished-gold frames. On the floor, a cream-colored rug shaped like a rainbow nestled against gleaming oak floorboards.
Gemma turned in a slow, appreciative circle. “I could live here for the rest of my life.” She chuckled at the look of wonder on her roommate’s face. They were equally awestruck by the beauty of their surroundings.
“You like it?” Behind her glasses, Penelope’s filmy gaze registered delight. “When I redid my guest bedroom, I asked the other women for advice. I took their best inspirations and came up with this.”
“The photo you put on Airbnb is nice, but the room is much prettier in real life.”
“If I rent out my guest room again, I’ll make sure to upload a photograph taken in daylight.” She plodded to the center of the room, caught her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Giggling like a child, she plucked at the delicate stones and shells arranged beneath the feathers of her headdress. “Good grief—I forgot I’d already changed into my outfit. I suppose you’re both wondering why I’m dressed like this.”
She giggled once more with an utter lack of artifice. Gemma decided she liked their unusual hostess very much. “You’re celebrating Halloween early?” she guessed.
“No, no—this has nothing to do with Halloween. I’m a member of a special women’s group. We’re meeting in Sweet Lake Circle this evening to gather positive vibrations for the Wayfair.” Penelope’s face lost its gaiety by degrees. “We’re also performing a special ritual for one of our valiant leaders. She has a vermin problem.”
“Mice in her house?”
“No, she has a rat. We’ll combine our energy to send him away.”
“You’re not going to the concert?” A major tragedy, in Gemma’s opinion.
“Heavens, no. At my age, rock and roll sets my teeth on edge. Besides, this is such an important weekend for the inn. They need all the good vibes we can muster. After our ceremony, we’ll toast the Wayfair’s success with Silvia’s mojitos. She always brings the libations for our meetings.”
Eager as she was for clarification on how a bunch of women conjured positive vibes—or how a fancy headdress figured in—Gemma’s interest clung to another aspect of the explanation. “Are you talking about Silvia Mendoza?” She’d already deduced that Silvia was the mother of Ryan’s girlfriend. “I met her the other day.”
The admission brought Penelope near. “Look for Silvia’s daughter at the concert,” she whispered urgently, leaving Gemma with the suspicion she’d been waiting for the opportunity to steer the conversation in this particular direction. “I’m sure Cat will help you find success in your pursuit. Would you like a photograph of her so you know who you’re looking for?”
“I know who she is.”
“Perfect. Look for her near the band. She’s overseeing the event. Now, don’t be shy. Walk right up and introduce yourself.” A hint of merriment returned to Penelope’s features. She patted Gemma’s cheek. “Good luck tonight.”
With that, she hurried out. The door clicked shut behind her.
Patty stared after her with ill-concealed confusion. “Man, I have no idea what’s going on. Why was she coddling you? And what’s with the advice to find Ryan’s babe? Gemma, did you tell her why we’re here?”
“No, but someone sure did. Not Silvia or Frances—I didn’t give them Ryan’s name. I’m sure they don’t know I made the road trip for him.”
“Penelope may have figured it out on her own. You and Ryan do look like brother and sister.” Flinging her suitcase on the bed, Patty chewed this around. “So? Will you follow her advice?”
“About looking Cat up first?” Actually it wasn’t a bad idea. “She is Ryan’s girlfriend. It’ll be easier to avoid throwing up on my shoes from nerves if I talk to her first.”
Patty wrinkled her nose. “No puking. And definitely no dinner. Skip the munchies until after you’ve dropped the bomb on your brother’s head.”
Gemma nodded in agreement. She hadn’t eaten so much as a lettuce leaf all day.
She was too anxious about meeting her brother.
A river of people streamed in and out of the golden sandstone mansion.
Parking at the back of the lot, George congratulated himself on his good luck. With so many people at the inn on this bright Saturday afternoon, there wasn’t much chance of anyone noticing his resemblance to the man from Adworks. Still, for safety’s sake, he grabbed a ball cap from the trunk of his Mustang and slid it low on his forehead.
Wherever his son was inside the grand structure, Julia was surely nearby. After the concert began tonight, finding her in the crowd would be a simple enough task. How, exactly, to drag her off without causing a stir was a conundrum George planned to solve this afternoon.
Let Frances and her band of she-devils thwart him all they liked. He’d find another way out of this godforsaken state. He’d get out, one way or another—after he settled his score with Julia permanently.
He walked down the sloping lawn, which spilled out into a flat area of green. The chatter of three youths carried on the breeze, their lean arms moving quickly to unwind a roll of orange fencing. Past them, where the grass met the sand, two older men heaved a ticket booth into place. Avoiding them, George trotted along the hedgerow that muffled the murmur of the surf. He ducked unseen into the woods.
Safe in the shadows, he pulled out his smartphone and flipped back to the inn’s website. The concert would begin at seven o’clock. There was also a buffet scheduled to begin within the hour; he lifted his nose, caught the scent of grilling dogs. Following the savory aroma, he trudged through the forest, taking care to remain parallel to the lake.
Through the trees, he spied a black woman with a killer body directing the people setting up long tables for a buffet line. A ruddy-cheeked cook stood before a large grill. Apparently he was feeding the employees before they took their stations. The sizzle coming off the grill made George’s mouth water. After he mapped out how to grab his ex-wife tonight, he needed to find somewhere to eat and lie low until darkness fell.
Checking his watch, he concluded the trek through the forest took less than three minutes. Add another sixty seconds to drag Julia up the hill to his car, and he’d make off with her in about the time it took Midnight Boyz to finish one tune and lead into the next.
Satisfied with the plan, he retraced his steps to his car. Pulling out of the lot, he thumbed through his phone in search of a restaurant. Nothing came up but the Sunshine Room at the Wayfair. His belly growled in complaint.
Muttering a curse, he searched again, this time for a grocery store.
“Doesn’t this thing ever give the right answer?” Disenchanted with the Magic 8 Ball’s results, Linnie tossed the toy into Cat’s waiting hands.
Usually Linnie didn’t subscribe to superstition. Jada didn’t either, but she’d also tried her luck in the hopes of lifting the collective mood. They’d all been in the doldrums since finding the tin hidden at Archibald Dufour’s grave.
Tugging off her heels, Cat swung her feet onto Linnie’s desk. They’d decided to meet in her office for a brief respite before parting ways to change into jeans for the concert.
Cat rubbed the soreness from her shoulders. “Ryan’s already out on the beach with the videographer and the photographer.
I still haven’t told him anything.”
Jada slumped in the other chair. “How’s Julia?”
“Happy as a lark back in the city. She’s finishing Halloween costumes for the kiddies.”
“Have you spoken with her?”
“Only a few words, when Ryan checked in with her this afternoon.”
Placing her elbows on the desk, Linnie glumly lowered her chin onto her palms. “Cat, you have to tell Ryan he has family living right here in Sweet Lake.”
“Not tonight. I’ve had a weird feeling all day, like bad karma has been stalking my heels since the moment I got out of bed. It’s enough to make me hold off.”
“Hold off for how long?”
“Until tomorrow. After the Sunday buffet winds down, I’ll offer to go back with Ryan to Cincinnati. He’s been hinting about taking a few days off together.”
Jada grunted. “Doubtful he meant a few days off with his mother in the next room.”
“Jada, I know what he meant.” As much as a romantic getaway appealed, Cat pushed the notion aside. A precious slice of Ryan’s personal history lay in her possession. Until she shared it with him, a vacation alone wasn’t worth contemplating. “If I’m with Julia on her home turf, there’s a better chance of reasoning with her. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have confronted her while she was camped out in the south wing. She has lots of troubling memories associated with Sweet Lake, and Frances. I wish I’d known before I talked to her.”
“And if she flat-out refuses to come around?” Linnie made no effort to hide her doubt. “Listen, I don’t want you to feel responsible if all of this brings on her depression, but you have to do something.”
Cat dreaded the prospect of triggering Julia’s depression. “I’ll tell her I’m no longer comfortable leaving Ryan in the dark. This is his life too. Once I put him in contact with Frances, Frances will get right in her car and drive to Julia’s house to mend their relationship. Julia has a thousand regrets, none of which will matter. Frances will forgive her. Hopefully that’ll be enough to stop Julia from getting too low.”
Jada brought up another troubling point. “Once she is back in touch with Frances, she’ll forfeit her anonymity. George Hunt will be able to track her down. The name change, the years of lying low—all the precautions won’t matter.”
It was another issue she’d fretted over for hours. “If George turns up at some point, I have to believe Ryan can handle him. It’s been a long time . . . Ryan believes he’s out West somewhere, too far away to ever hurt Julia again. Let’s hope it’s true.”
Her friends regarded her worriedly as she rose, bringing the conversation to a close. Outside, in the raucous crowd converging on the beach, a college student was searching for the brother she’d never met. Cat was determined to do everything in her power to ensure Gemma made Ryan’s acquaintance tonight.
After she changed into jeans, she went outside. A carnival-like atmosphere surrounded the beach, with people ordering burgers and dogs, and others milling around the dais where Midnight Boyz would perform. The crew from the events company she’d hired was arranging the last row of chairs before the dais, and setting up the dance floor nearby. Following her instructions, they left the outer perimeter free of seating. Couples were already marking out spots and laying down blankets to watch the band play. By sunset, as the floodlights surrounding the dais blinked on, she’d walked through the crowd repeatedly without finding a girl with honey-blonde hair who bore a strong resemblance to Ryan.
The harvest moon came out, fat and golden in a sky glittering with stars. She checked in near the dais with Ryan and his colleagues from Adworks. They were busy filming and photographing the event. He pulled her into his arms for a deep kiss before turning his attentions back to the work at hand. His high spirits gave her the impetus to keep looking for Gemma. No doubt his younger sister was somewhere in the throng, nervously mustering the courage to approach him.
Walking away from the dais, Cat scanned the sea of faces. Where was she?
Chapter 25
Safely hidden near the people by the grill, George kept his eyes trained on his son. A greedy anticipation filled him as he waited for Julia to appear. When she did, she was sure to meet up with their boy.
From the crowd, the familiar Latina beauty materialized. It beat all that Ryan was hot for Silvia Mendoza’s daughter. Not that the photos of Cat on the inn’s website did her justice. In real life, she was stunning with her long hair and sultry beauty.
After she finished chatting with Ryan, she dove back into the crowd. Then she paused for a heartbeat, her dark, fluid gaze returning to linger on Ryan like a slow caress. Bitterness filled George’s mouth.
Ducking behind the buffet line, he matched her strides. With purpose she moved toward the entrance to the beach. With night descending, the blue waters of the lake faded into the gloom. Shadows pooled on the beach as Cat swiveled around in search of someone in the crowd. Her preoccupation gave George an inspired solution to his dilemma.
To hell with waiting for Julia. There was an easier way.
He’d let Cat bring his quarry to him.
The pearl-handled gun, a reassuring weight in his pocket, promised to bring the revenge he’d been waiting for since Twin Falls. He’d drag Julia out of here and find an open field.
The only problem with the airtight plan was a minor one.
Under no circumstances was he leaving behind a witness to inform the authorities. He’d done a week in lockup, a bitter experience he planned to never repeat.
Like his ex-wife, Cat wouldn’t live to see the dawn.
Chapter 26
On each picnic table in Sweet Lake Circle, votive candles pricked the darkness with flickering light.
As the women surrounding her chanted softly, Frances let her eyes drift open to appreciate the moment. In lawn chairs they’d each brought from home, twenty-eight of her comrades sat clasping hands. Love for them brimmed inside her for the care they’d given her all week long. Whenever George turned back up—and she doubted he’d given up—she needn’t face him alone. The efficient Silvia had drawn up a calendar clear into November, with a different Siren staying at Frances’s house every night. As for the fracas yesterday—well, she felt bad about Tilda wielding Mace and Ozzie Riddle spraining an ankle. At least they’d driven George off.
Setting her personal travails out of mind, Frances sent positive energy toward the inn high upon the hill above the town. All day long cars had streamed toward the Wayfair, the undeniable proof that Cat’s efforts were a success. According to Silvia, her daughter’s work advertising the concert had brought in four hundred attendees. The final tally wildly exceeded Cat’s expectations.
The ceremony ended. When Silvia rose, Frances followed her to the closest picnic table. Together they handed out plastic cups filled with Silvia’s tasty mojitos.
Penelope hoisted her glass toward the star-studded night. “To your successful journey,” she whispered.
“Are you toasting Gemma Mills?” Frances asked. When her comrade nodded, she added, “I was hoping to see her today. I asked her to stop by if she had time before the concert. Did she seem nervous this afternoon? She’s looking for her brother tonight.”
“Oh, I know.” Excitement laced Penelope’s voice. “I promised not to say anything, but I know who he is. I can’t wait to hear the details after they meet.”
The announcement brought more of the Sirens near. Tilda asked, “Who is he? You can’t pique our interest then keep the secret to yourself. Coming to Sweet Lake, finding a long-lost brother—I love happy endings!”
“I’m sorry, Tilda. I promised not to breathe a word.”
Ruth elbowed Norah out of the way to nab a mojito. “If you’re supposed to keep your trap shut, then do it,” she advised Penelope. “The girl has a right to her privacy. If she meets her brother tonight, we’ll all get the details soon enough.” She grinned devilishly. “I’d rather hear about Norah’s tragedy on Airbnb.”
Norah b
ristled. “I’ve already told you about Mr. O’Grady.”
“You told me, and no one else. Tell the story again. Listening to your failures is the great joy of my life.”
Norah appeared ready to give her petite nemesis a thrashing. Recalling their last tiff in her living room, Frances wisely intervened. “Do tell us, Norah. What is Mr. O’Grady like?”
“The seventy-year-old hippie roosting in my guest bedroom? He’s awful. The man has more lewd one-liners than a drunken fraternity.”
Ruth snickered. “What were you expecting? Anyone booking a room this weekend came for the concert. Including the old guys.”
“I was hoping for a suave Cary Grant, not a blast from the psychedelic past.”
“Next time you’re looking for a man, use a real dating site.”
Wishing to steer the conversation to lighter topics, Frances said, “Ruth, how is Julia? Did you take her for another walk today?”
Ruth tapped the side of her glass. After Silvia gave her a refill, she told Frances, “She went back to Cincinnati.”
“Already? I thought she planned to stay until tomorrow.”
“She left Friday afternoon awfully upset. Understandable, really. The woman’s seen enough tragedy for ten lifetimes.”
Frances shared a meaningful look with Silvia. Whatever secrets Julia D’Angelo kept, the only woman in town with a clue to their contents was Ruth.
“She’s been through a lot?” Frances prodded.
“With her ex-husband. The man abused her something terrible.”
“Oh, that’s heartbreaking.”
“Yeah, and don’t ask for the particulars. Like I told Penelope, it’s important to keep a confidence. I’m not breaking mine with Julia.”
Silvia removed her feathered headdress and tossed it on a nearby table. “This is different,” she snapped. “Julia’s well-being affects her son, and my daughter. In case you haven’t noticed, Cat and Ryan are head over heels for each other. I won’t be surprised if they’re engaged by Christmas. His family will become my family. Reason enough for you to fill me in.”
The Comfort of Secrets Page 26
