Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
FORREST
“ C an I help you two?”
I looked into the smiling face of a man my height, about the age my dad would’ve been if he were still alive. Bushy white hair, white mustache, and wire-rimmed glasses around alert gray eyes. He was tanned, maybe from a summer boating on the lake, and something about him tugged at the back of my mind.
“I, uh,” Sterling began. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean any harm.” She gestured to me and gave the man her most stunning smile. “Forrest’s dad used to own this place. We were in the area, and the nostalgia got to him. We wanted to stop by?—”
Sterling’s voice cut off as the man’s friendly but sharp eyes landed on her. Out of instinct, I reached out, winding my arm around her shoulders, feeling the need to protect her from this unknown threat, though I wasn’t sure the smiling man in front of me constituted a threat. His gaze shifted to me, assessing.
“Buck Buckley?” he asked, leaning closer. “Is that you all grown up?”
“You know who I am?” I asked, taken aback. He was looking at me with a combination of joy and disbelief.
“If you’re Buck Buckley, I do. Your daddy was one of my best friends.”
I squinted at him, shaking my head even as I held out my hand. “I go by Forrest now. Forrest Powell. But I don’t—” I started to say I didn’t remember him, but that bushy mustache tickled the back of my mind, and I said, without thinking, “Your mustache used to be red.”
He let out a guffaw, tipping his head back. “Damn right, it did. The red leaked out of my mustache and my hair a good ten years ago. Men in my family always go white early. Now, my Sugar Mae— Not a streak of white on that head, and it has nothing to do with her monthly trips to the beauty parlor.” He winked at me, and I found myself grinning back.
“Sugar because she likes to bake,” I said slowly, the fragment of memory floating to the surface.
“Mae she was born with, and Sugar for her cookies.” The man took my hand and pumped it up and down with vigor. “She’ll be so glad to see you.”
He held out his hand to Sterling.
“Bob Murrell. I’m an old friend of Buck, uh, Forrest’s. I knew him when he was a little tyke. Are you the fiancée? The Sawyer fiancée,” he clarified. Sterling’s back went stiff. Noticing, he added in explanation, “I ran into Jack Webber in town. He mentioned he’d seen you.” Bob raised an eyebrow, but his smile remained friendly.
Sterling relaxed and smiled back, giving his hand a firm shake. “Sterling Sawyer and I don’t take after my daddy.” She winked, and Bob tipped his head back and laughed.
“I sure as hell hope not. Come on up to the house. Sugar Mae won’t forgive me if I let you get away.”
“Yeah,” I said, not sure where this was heading. “But we have a long drive, so we can’t stay long.”
Bob stopped and turned to face us. The gaze he pinned on me wasn’t unfriendly, but it left no room for negotiation. “Y’all come back to the house.”
“Sure,” I agreed slowly, knowing I was missing something. I glanced down at Sterling and raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged a shoulder and said quietly, “Why not?”
“I parked down the road,” I said. “If we’re going to come in for a visit, I should move the car.” Sterling’s purse was in the car, and I didn’t like not having transportation close by. Just in case.
“No problem,” Bob said with a smile. “I’ll introduce Sterling to Sugar Mae while you get the car.”
That was a no-go. I wasn’t leaving Sterling with a stranger, no matter that I remembered him a little from childhood. I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head. “We’ll both go.”
“It will only take a few minutes,” Sterling added, leaning into my side with the faintest pressure. She didn’t want me to leave her alone with Bob. He watched us, eyes narrowing until he gave a nod.
“We’ll all go,” he said, pivoting to walk down the gravel drive.
“You really think we’re going to take off?” Sterling asked, falling into step beside Bob. “Forrest will want to see the house at least.”
Bob flashed her a smile. “I’m not willing to take the chance. I haven’t seen him in almost seventeen years. Mae would never forgive me if I let Alan’s boy get away before she can put eyes on him.”
I wanted to believe it was that simple, but my gut said Bob wasn’t telling us everything. I didn’t think we were in any danger, exactly, but I didn’t like being in the dark. We fell silent on the short walk to the overgrown drive where I’d stashed the car. Another few minutes and we were parked in front of the cottage.
“Sugar Mae must be wondering where I disappeared to,” he said to himself. Opening the car door, he got out, turning to us. “Come on. Bet you want to see the inside. We bought it from your mama when she moved out west. We haven’t changed much. Upgraded the furniture. Redid the kitchen. That’s about it.”
I went through the front door to find a trim woman in the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl at the counter. Her brown eyes brightened as she turned to greet her husband, flaring wide with surprise at the two strangers behind him. Then, her mouth curved into a welcome grin.
“Oh, my lord,” she said, her eyes locked on my face. “You are the image of your father. Jack Webber said you’d been in town, but I didn’t dare to hope you’d show up over here.”
She crossed the kitchen and pulled me into a hug. I hugged her back automatically, my head spinning. All I could think was that she smelled the same. Vanilla and sugar.
“You used to make the best cookies,” I said. “With sprinkles.”
“You remember!” Sugar Mae’s smile was so wide I thought her cheeks would crack. “You were always such a good boy. I knew you liked my cookies. And now you’re back, and you brought your fiancée. Hard to imagine little Buck all grown up and getting married, but time does go by, doesn’t it?” She patted my arm, her eyes a little misty. “Let’s get you a glass of wine. Is there any left in that bottle, Bob?”
“I’ll open a new one,” he said.
“Don’t go to any trouble for us,” Sterling cut in. “We have a long drive to get back to Sawyers Bend and?—”
“One glass of wine won’t hurt. You’ll have plenty of time for it to wear off.” Sugar Mae’s smile dimmed a fraction, her eyes sliding across the kitchen to meet her husband’s.
“You’ll be hungry,” Bob said. “Y’all must have been stuck in that boathouse half the afternoon.”
I didn’t bother to hide the truth. The heat of a flush on my cheeks, I nodded, feeling like I was thirteen again and in trouble for taking the boat out without permission.
“Yes, sir,” I found myself saying.
“Then you’ll stay for dinner,” Mae said. “It may be instead of that wine, they could use some iced tea.”
“Iced tea would be heavenly,” Sterling said. “And again, we’re so sorry for the trespassing. Forrest was remembering the lake and?—”
“Young lady,” Mae interrupted, “we know you’re not here for nostalgia.”
Sterling went still beside me. I wound my arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“Why do you think we’re here?” I asked.
Mae’s eyes shifted to Bob again. He nodded. She shook her head and said, “I’ll get the iced tea. We’ll go out to the porch.”
Bob nodded again. Sterling started to follow him. Her good manners got the better of her, and she stopped. “Can I help, Sugar Mae?”
“No, honey. You go make yourself comfortable on the porch, and I’ll be out in a flash.”
We followed Bob’s tall frame through the cottage to the back porch overlooking the lake. I caught an impression of whitewashed walls and furniture in light colors with bright accents in the pillows and art. Overall, the place was cheerful, inviting, and oddly familiar.
We stepped onto the porch, and I stopped, the lake spread out before me, extending to the thick green trees on the opposite shore. The house hadn’t tripped my memory, not completely, but this—I knew this view. How could I have forgotten this place?
“Just like I remember,” I said. “Not the inside, but this view never changes, does it?”
Bob agreed. “Not so far. Especially not with the state park across the way. When your momma said she was going to move back to her people, we offered for this place. Thought we’d save her the real estate commission. We always loved this view when we’d come out here with your parents.” He gestured us to a group of rocking chairs set up facing the water, loosely arranged around a low table.
The familiar mineral organic scent of the lake drifted into my nostrils. I loved that smell. I’d forgotten how much. The gentle slap of water against the shore was punctuated by shouts in the distance. I looked to see a family jumping off their boat to splash in the lake. Memories from my childhood came flooding back. We hadn’t been here enough, but when we were, we were happy, the three of us.
And yet, my father had left me. Left us. It made no more sense to me now than it had then.
“I wish—” I let out a sigh and didn’t finish the thought. It would have been too much to maintain the house from so far away. Of course, she’d sold it. Aloud, I said, “She needed the money.”
“That she did.” Bob nodded. “We lived here for about five years before we decided to do some work on the kitchen. While we were at it, we decided to add some more benches in the boathouse.”
Suddenly, I knew exactly where Bob was going with all of this.
“Our carpenter found the compartment your father built under the bench,” Bob said.
“What did you find inside?” Sterling asked, leaning forward. “What did you do with it?”
Bob looked from Sterling to me. “Don’t see a ring on her finger to go with all those questions.” He raised an eyebrow in my direction, his eyes genial, but the words had the slightest edge.
“We’re getting the ring resized,” Sterling said easily. It should probably have bothered me to see how well she lied, especially considering she’d dumped me for the same offense. But even at my most defensive, I knew my lie had been different.
“What did you find in the compartment?” I asked Bob.
“I found something,” Bob agreed. “I think it came from your father. Looked like something Alan would have left. And I think it’s for you. I can’t think of anyone else who should have it, at least.”
“Can I see it?” I asked.
Bob shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“Why not?” Sterling asked, her brow furrowed. My girl wanted to lay eyes on the next clue, as did I. It had to be driving her crazy.
But as much as I loved watching her try to solve these things—the way she puzzled them out was fucking sexy—I was more interested in what Bob was hiding from us, and why.