Chapter 33
Jake
He greeted her with such formality.
Alison. A curt nod. He hadn’t seen his daughter in weeks, and all he had for her was her full name in a deep tone of voice. Like a judge acknowledging a defendant, not a daughter.
It made me second-guess bringing him to her. But he said he could help. Or was it that he had answers? Or, shit, was it that he wanted answers? I was having trouble remembering.
I’d noticed a woman rapping on the front door to Ali’s cabin after I dropped her off at the store. Misha was with Eric. No one was home. But the woman didn’t seem willing to accept that.
“Can I help you?” I called from my place.
“Oh! You startled me. I’m looking for Ali Bennet,” she said.
She was dressed in slacks and a brown cardigan. Not a local. Decidedly not a tourist either.
“Was she expecting you?” I asked.
“Not exactly.” She batted her hair like a bug had waged a multifront assault.
I heard a male clear his throat before barreling through the bushes on the side of the house.
“Damn it. Looks like someone fixed the window,” he said hurriedly.
That would be me.
“Can I help you?” I started to make my way toward Ali’s yard.
“Alison Bennet. She staying here?” he asked, his tone clipped.
I reached the edge of the yard and crossed my arms. The man too was dressed in the type of clothes you’d wear to a board meeting—black slacks, button-down shirt, starched collar. Not dressed for a friendly visit to the lake. Not dressed for a friendly anything.
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m her father, James Bennet. This is my mother’s house.”
His mother’s house? Libby was his mother. He seemed to hop over the fact that the house was now Ali’s. But he didn’t know me. Didn’t know I knew the backstory. The current story.
“Right. Well, as you can tell, there is no one home. I’d be happy to pass along a message for you, though.”
“Do you know where I can find her? It’s about an urgent matter.”
“We really need to speak with her today.” The woman too was quick and businesslike. “Have you seen today’s newspaper . . . ? Do you get the Tribune here? Ouch.” The woman smacked a bug off her forearm.
“Yes, we get the Tribune here. But no, I haven’t seen today’s.”
The woman gave James a look that encouraged him to tell me what I was missing.
“GlennGlobal is featured in the business insert. It’s not good for Lakeside,” he said.
The glossy spread they showed me was bullshit.
GlennGlobal has been experimenting with planting a company insider in the community of one of its latest town prospects—a small, rural, deteriorating community called Lakeside.
Deteriorating my ass.
“One of our young, forward-thinking female executives was sent to live in Lakeside and build a campaign with community leaders and friends to establish a stronger identity among themselves,” youngest son Ryan Glenn said.
Ryan Glenn. Ali’s ex.
He’d cheated. Humiliated her. Thrown her away. And now he was rewriting the story. Trying to convince the world she’d been working for them all along?
My jaw locked.
I’ve never hit a man in anger, but I pictured my fist meeting his (probably) perfect nose. One clean, hard jab.
I decided I needed to get to Ali. To make sure she knew. About the article. But also that she wasn’t alone. That without a doubt we knew her better than this. That I did.
And taking her father and his associate with me had made sense until I heard the way he addressed her. Saw the way she stiffened at the sound of his voice. Like a soldier called to attention.
The sound of the clocks broke the tension.
Ali needed to speak with her father, so Eric stepped in to open the store.
The rest of us decided it was best to give Ali and her father and his associate some space. She promised to update us after.
I felt helpless leaving her. At least without getting to make sure she was okay.
I never felt the need to save Ali. She was already strong. I just didn’t want her to feel alone. Adrift. Unmoored. Not anymore. Not ever again.
She gave me a confident nod when I told her I’d make dinner and we’d talk after. A promise to hold space for her. To be there. Steady. Waiting. A silent reminder: Don’t shut down. Don’t run.
In the meantime, I needed to make sure the rest of Lakeside did not waver in its support and belief in Ali.
Asher and his family spent Sundays at Mass followed by brunch. I hoped two things: 1. He hadn’t even had a chance to read the news or see the article yet today. And 2. He still went to the same place for brunch, because if so, then I knew exactly where to find him.
The Iron Skillet was a mainstay in the area but a couple of towns over from Lakeside.
It was also a beacon for the after-church crowd.
Despite the crowds of people waiting for a table and the hustle and bustle throughout the restaurant, I found Asher and his family.
They were still waiting for a table. He was enjoying a large Bloody Mary garnished with everything one could possibly think of.
“Asher. Hi. Sorry to disturb you, but do you have a minute to talk?”
“Jake? Well, look who it is, honey. Jake Elliot,” he said to his wife.
“Hi, Jake.”
“Elsie. Sorry to barge in like this.”
“Not to worry. We’ll be waiting awhile. We have a party of fourteen,” Elsie said, crossing her eyes. Asher and Elsie had lots of family in the area, and clearly Sundays were their day to gather.
“Let’s step outside,” Asher offered. He was sure to bring his drink teetering on a meal.
“Is that a mini slider as a garnish?” I asked Asher.
“You betcha. The Bloodies at this place are quite spectacular. This one is the cheeseburger Bloody,” he said as he took a sip, barely clearing the skewer of pickles, pearl onion, tomatoes, bun, and patty.
“I’m guessing you haven’t seen the Tribune yet, right? The business insert magazine?”
He shook his head no, nose deep in his glass, the skewer stick poking his forehead.
“I’m glad. Here you go. Brace yourself.” He took the magazine from me and started to scan the article I had open for him.
His eyes first widened, then scrunched in worry.
“Now, before you panic . . . just know that this is all false. Ali is not working for them. They’re exploiting her.”
“Obviously,” he said as he scanned the article. Every now and then he made a small noise of disapproval as he read.
“Ridiculous!” He closed the publication and rolled it into a baton.
“Can’t say she didn’t warn us. They play dirty. And they don’t like losing.”
“Bastards,” he mumbled under his breath before lifting his gaze to me and righting himself. “Where’s Ali? How is she taking it?”
Of course Asher’s first and biggest concern was with Ali’s well-being. It was everyone’s. So why wasn’t it her father’s?
A slow, uneasy feeling sat in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know it yet, but that question was going to matter.