“I enjoy learning about Samantha’s new friends.”
“I hope you’ll come back when she and Justin are here. I should get back home. I left a sink full of dishes. Enjoy your cookout with Vic Scarlatti tonight. He has a gorgeous spot on Echo Lake.” Evelyn frowned, studying Charlotte. “You are going, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t...” Charlotte caught herself, started again. “I don’t know that I’m invited.”
“Of course you are. Elly O’Dunn told me. She’s Maggie and Phoebe’s mother. She has twin daughters, too, Ava and Ruby—they’re the youngest. I ran into Elly at the library, too. She works in town. She knows everything that goes on here. Well, not about our time-capsule search. But she told me Vic invited you and Agent Rawlings to a cookout. She may have mentioned his children, now that I think about it.” Evelyn paused, as if trying to recollect the details of her conversation with Elly O’Dunn. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Elly is Vic’s closest neighbor, which isn’t saying much out there. You’ll see. Give him my best.”
Charlotte promised she would—what else could she say?—and Evelyn said goodbye and slipped back through the hedges. Charlotte could hear the rustling of leaves and cracking of small branches. She waited, making sure she didn’t hear anything alarming from the other side of the hedges, but all was quiet. She shook off her confusion and went inside and straight up to her room for a shower. She needed hot water and soap after her bike ride and crawl through the shed for the time capsule. She’d eaten a protein bar she had with her on her bike ride. It would do for lunch. The Rawlings clan had packed a picnic lunch for their visit to the cider mill, not that they’d be very hungry after breakfast at Smith’s.
When she headed back downstairs, Greg had returned with Andrew and Megan. The teens went upstairs to their rooms while Charlotte made tea in the kitchen. She offered Greg some, but he declined. “Did you find what Evelyn’s got you looking for?” he asked casually.
“An artful question,” Charlotte said, amused. “I consider my musty copy of Pride and Prejudice and a vintage bicycle two good finds. I’ll let Samantha know about them after her honeymoon.”
Greg leaned against a counter, watching her pour boiling water from a copper kettle into a plain white china teapot. “Evelyn and her friend who owned this place rob a bank back in the day?”
“You’re getting ahead of the evidence, Agent Rawlings.”
“I can do that. I’m off duty.” He turned around to the sink and filled a glass with water. “My mother likes to pretend she’s a sweet little old lady. Evelyn doesn’t bother pretending. She’s tough, smart and devious. I’m telling you. Nothing more dangerous than an old lady on a secret mission. Ask anyone in law enforcement.” He drank some of his water and winked at Charlotte. “Kidding.”
She set the kettle back on the stove. “The Sloans I’ve met strike me as straightforward.”
“To a fault. My guess is our elderly neighbor isn’t used to sneaking around, or to getting someone else to do her bidding. That means whatever she’s got you doing must be important, at least to her. She drop off any more vegetables from her garden?”
“How do you know she was here?”
“I don’t. I’m guessing because of your manner.”
“My manner?” Charlotte held up a hand. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. If you go knock on her door, I’m sure Evelyn would give you fresh vegetables.”
“I guess we don’t need them. We’ve got Vic’s cookout tonight. Did I mention that to you? You’re invited.”
“So Evelyn told me.”
“Small towns,” Greg said, as if that explained it. “Where are you off to now?”
She wanted to finish her search for the time capsule and get it out of the way, but it would have to wait with him here, in high-suspicion mode. “The hammock,” she said, scooting out the back door before he could comment.
* * *
Built in 1912, prior to the breakout of World War I, Vic Scarlatti’s house occupied a spectacular spot in the pines and hardwoods on the banks of quiet Echo Lake, a few miles outside Knights Bridge village. “It’s breathtaking,” Charlotte said as she joined Greg, Andrew and Megan on a stone walk. In the interest of convenience, she’d driven with them out to the lake. The two teens wanted to take a ride in Harry’s old Mercedes-Benz, but that would have to wait for another day.
The wiry retired ambassador came down the walk and greeted them. “Perfect weather for a cookout. Glad you could make it. Who do we have here, Agent Rawlings?”
Greg introduced Charlotte first, then Andrew and Megan. Ambassador Scarlatti insisted everyone call him Vic. He led them around to the massive front porch, chatting amiably about his house. “I’ve owned this place for twenty years but didn’t do much to it until I retired. Why renovate when I’m living overseas when I can wait until I’m underfoot? We’re still working on the place but you could have stayed in the guesthouse.” He gestured toward the lake. “It’s nice. It’s right on the water. Brody stayed there last winter and I stayed there when we had the place ripped apart this spring.”
“Thanks,” Greg said, “but no way. I don’t need a retired ambassador breathing down my neck. No. Way.”
Vic snorted. “I’m enjoying life without Diplomatic Security agents breathing down my neck.”
Despite the teasing, Charlotte could see the two understood and even admired each other.
“Drinks and snacks are set up on the porch,” Vic added. “Kayaks and equipment are down on the beach, at least what passes for a beach here. It’s too early in the season for swimming for my tastes, but you’re welcome to jump in and splash around to your hearts’ content.”
“Have you ever gone swimming, Vic?” Greg asked.
“I have. I swam all the time as a boy.” He stopped as they came to a path, covered in pine needles. “It’s not my thing. I don’t have enough meat on my bones for swimming in a New England lake, but here I am with a house on a New England lake. I kayak, though.”
Greg gave him a skeptical look. “Really?”
Vic didn’t skip a beat. “Sure. Absolutely. I was out for a paddle just last week. I want to take Rohan, but I have a fear of him leaping into the water and turning over my kayak. I’m fairly certain I’d die of hypothermia before I drowned, but the thought of some poor Knights Bridge sod pulling my purple, lifeless body out of the lake...”
“Stop, Vic. Damn. The drama.” Greg turned to Charlotte and his kids. “Rohan is Vic’s golden retriever.”
“He’s still a puppy,” Vic said. “He’s incorrigible. He’s in the house at the moment.”
“I love puppies,” Megan said, clearly torn between the dog and the lake.
“You shouldn’t kayak alone,” Greg said, addressing Vic. “And no, Rohan doesn’t count as a companion.”
“Yes, yes. I learned crisis prevention and situational awareness from you DS agents.”
Andrew and Megan were both biting back laughter at the exchange. Greg sighed. “A little taste of my life, guys. Luckily, Ambassador Scarlatti is more trouble retired than he was on the job.”
“Your father is showing off by being patronizing,” Vic said.
“Where did you serve as an ambassador?” Andrew asked.
“Paris is the only place I remember now that I’m retired. Everywhere else has faded. Terribly snobby of me, I suppose, but it’s the truth.”
“It’s not the truth,” Greg said.
Vic kept his attention on Andrew and Megan. “Now that I don’t have to count on your father to keep me alive, I can ignore him. I developed a fondness for macarons in Paris. What’s not to like? Don’t try to find one in this town. Stick to apple pie and brownies and such. Now. Enough amusement. Off you go. Enjoy the lake. I’ll get dinner on and you can meet Rohan later.”
He about-faced and trotted up the stairs to the porch
.
“Should I help with dinner?” Charlotte asked Greg.
Greg shook his head. “Trust me, Vic’s not doing any cooking himself. Come on. A marine archaeologist must know how to kayak, right? You can show Andrew and Megan. I can paddle a canoe and work a motorboat, but I’ve never gone kayaking.”
“We know how to kayak, Dad,” Megan said. “It’s easy. We can show you.”
“Well, I do beg your pardon,” he said good-naturedly.
Charlotte followed the Rawlings clan down to the water. It was sparkling under the afternoon sun. Andrew and Megan immediately checked out the three bright-colored kayaks, paddles and life vests lined up on a strip of sandy beach.
Andrew balked at wearing a life vest. “It’s quiet water. Nothing will happen.”
Greg shook his head. “Wear a vest.”
Charlotte hadn’t heard such firmness and seriousness from him before. Andrew shrugged and complied without further argument. He and his sister each grabbed one of the two solo kayaks and shoved off into the water.
Greg toed the stern of the two-seater kayak. “Want to introduce me to the joys of kayaking? I’m a quick study.”
“Stay centered. Don’t lean to one side. Follow what I do with my paddle.”
“Sounds kind of sexy.”
She sighed. “Greg.”
“Made you blush.”
“Is this what happens when you’re around teenagers?”
“Hop in. I’ll push you into the water and then get in.”
Within thirty seconds, Charlotte realized he’d been teasing and was, in fact, adept at kayaking. He sat in front. She could have smacked him with her paddle, but the feel of the water under their boat, the late-spring breeze, the gorgeous scenery of woods, water and blue sky—she got caught up in being on the water.
They didn’t stay out on the lake for long. Rohan, Vic’s adolescent golden retriever, galloped down from the house and barked at the kayakers from the shore. Andrew and Megan got back first, and Rohan leaped into the water to greet them. The kids got the kayaks onto dry land, dropped their paddles and pulled off their vests and played with the puppy, getting him more riled up.
“That dog capsizes us, and I’m blaming Vic,” Greg said.
Charlotte laughed. “We’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say. You like cold water.”
Clearly not the least bit worried, Greg paddled strongly toward shore. Charlotte found herself relaxing around him and his teenagers as they all returned to the main house.
A cheerful middle-aged woman with undyed, gray-streaked red hair had arrived. Vic introduced her as his neighbor, Elly O’Dunn. She’d brought food. “It’s stuff out of the freezer, thanks to my caterer daughter, Maggie,” she said.
It was clear Elly had an easy relationship with the retired ambassador. She explained she’d had influence on Rohan’s training. “Left to Vic,” she said, with a smile, “Rohan would be out of control.”
Charlotte settled into a comfortable chair on the porch and watched and listened as afternoon turned to evening and the lake glowed orange in the fading sun. Although he’d never married, Vic, she discovered, had a daughter, a respected wine enthusiast who’d recently taken a job at Noah Kendrick’s vineyard on California’s Central Coast. It was clear Vic wanted her to come back to New England.
Elly explained that her twin daughters were in New York and Hollywood. “I don’t think I’ll ever see them back here milking goats.”
That got Megan’s attention. “You have goats?”
“I supply some of the goat’s milk for the products Maggie and Olivia are making at the Farm at Carriage Hill,” Elly said, obviously proud.
Megan was delighted. “Goats are so cute.”
Greg made a face. “Not in my world.”
Over dinner, Vic regaled an enthralled Andrew and Megan with raucous tales of the days their father had been assigned to him. “No state secrets have been revealed,” Vic added, clearly enjoying himself. “Ah, yes. We did good work and had some good times despite the stresses and strains of our jobs. Damn. I miss those days, but I’ve come to love the life I have here.” He stared out at the lake, shaking his head. “I don’t deserve it. That’s for sure.”
“Damn right,” Greg said with a grin.
“I was never cut out for a villa in the South of France or a house in the Hamptons. This place on Echo Lake in little Knights Bridge...” Vic raised his wineglass. “To this good life, my friends.”
After dinner, Megan sneaked down to the water on her own. Charlotte spotted her and followed her on a path through the pine trees. By the time she reached the water, Megan had walked out up to her knees. “It’s freezing,” she called happily to Charlotte.
“It’s almost dark.”
“There’s no Loch Ness monster here.”
“You can’t see obstacles in the water, and we’re not familiar—”
“It’s a lake. It’s fine.”
Before Charlotte could formulate a response, Megan lost her footing and went under, her arms flailing as she fought for control. Charlotte plunged into the water and grabbed her, yanking her onto her feet. Megan spat out water and gasped, screaming about the cold as Charlotte half carried, half dragged her to shore.
“I stepped off my rock and I couldn’t find bottom. I totally panicked. I didn’t realize the water was so deep. I’m freezing.”
“Are you hurt?” Charlotte asked.
Megan shook her head, shivering, soaked from head to toe. “Don’t tell Dad, please.”
“Too late. Dad knows,” Greg said, emerging from the dark pines. He peered at his daughter. “You okay?”
“Cold and embarrassed.”
Her teeth were chattering, her lips purple. “Learn from the experience,” Greg said. “You need to take care with unfamiliar water in the dark and you need to have someone with you. The risks aren’t worth the benefits. Hypothermia alone can kill you.”
“I’m not dead.”
He took off his jacket and put it over his daughter’s shoulders. “Listen to someone like Charlotte next time. Understood?”
“Understood. I’m sorry.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” He turned to Charlotte. “What about you? Okay?”
“Fine.”
“You look cold and wet to me.”
She smiled. “I am cold and wet.”
“Let’s get you both back to the inn so you can put on dry clothes.”
Andrew arrived on the beach as they were starting back to the main house. “Have you ever saved anyone from certain death?” he asked his father.
“It’s always best to prevent a life-threatening incident. Come on. It’s a beautiful evening but it’s getting chilly.”
“By your standards,” Megan said, grinning now, although still shivering. “I’m only cold because of getting dunked. Thank you for coming after me, Charlotte. Have you ever rescued anyone as a diver?”
“It wasn’t the plan but I had to get a trapped diver out of sunken wreckage. It was a close call for both of us.”
Megan shuddered. “Scary.”
“But you’re both okay now?” Andrew asked.
“More or less,” Charlotte said, leaving it at that.
“So you’re a hero, too,” Megan said.
“I did what any other experienced diver would have done. I’m no hero.”
Charlotte was keenly aware of Greg’s silence as he walked behind her through the pines. When they got back to the house, she helped Elly O’Dunn pack up her car. Vic Scarlatti helped, too. He seemed comfortable in his own skin, but Charlotte gathered that hadn’t been the case when Greg had been in Knights Bridge a few months ago. Brody Hancock had grown up on Echo Lake and went way back with Vic. Vic was the reason Brody had ended up in th
e Diplomatic Security Service.
“Thanks for including me in the cookout,” Charlotte told him.
“Anytime. If that Rawlings lot gets too intense for you, you’re welcome to the guesthouse yourself. It’s comfortable. I used to have an apartment in Manhattan but I’ve given it up. This place is home.”
“Finally,” Elly said. “It’s about time. You’ve been coming here for decades.”
“You know, Charlotte, around here even if you don’t want someone’s opinion, you’re still likely to get it,” Vic said.
“You can say that again,” Elly said with a laugh as she climbed into her car.
“Come on,” Vic said, slinging an arm over Charlotte’s shoulder. “I’ll find a couple of old sweatshirts you and Megan can put on for the ride back to town.”
Fifteen
The evening turned cool and drizzly when they returned to Red Clover Inn and gathered in the library. Greg decided to light a fire. He’d checked with Eric Sloan to make sure the fireplace was safe to use and got the green light. He glanced back at Charlotte as he loaded on the kindling. “You sure you don’t want to check the chimney first for stolen loot?”
Andrew and Megan clearly had no idea what Greg meant but Charlotte did. She gave him a cool look as she sank into a chair by the fireplace, leaving the sofa free. “Maybe I already did,” she said.
Not a woman easily offended or intimidated, but Greg had already figured that out. He grabbed more kindling out of a copper container in front of the wood box and laid it on the grates in the old fireplace. There was a decent amount of cordwood, whether leftover from the previous owners or brought in by Sloans. It’d get them through the evening, at least.
“It’s not that cold, Dad,” Andrew said. “It’s June. It’s practically summer.”
“It’s cold enough for a fire. Megan’s still shivering.”
“Am not.”
“Fires are romantic,” Greg added.
Both kids rolled their eyes. He grinned, glancing at Charlotte. She had her gaze pinned on the fireplace. She and Megan had both changed into dry clothes but Charlotte had put Vic’s oversize sweatshirt back on. It was dark green with a moose emblazoned on the front. Greg had no idea why he thought it looked sexy on her.
Red Clover Inn--A Romance Novel Page 18
