Memories on the Lake 2 (Lake Placid #2)

Chapter 1

Bonnie stared at the envelope in her hands.

The mere sight of Peter’s handwriting had her heart beating out of control, and she hadn’t even broken the seal on the letter yet. At least, she hoped it was a letter. Two impulses clambered for her attention: the impulse to rip open the envelope and devour the contents, pouring her husband’s last words to her over her heart, and the impulse to go slowly, savoring this moment.

Once she read it, there would be nothing left. She’d know what his last words to her were, and she would have to move forward. But in this moment, she could sit quietly in his office, light rain pattering against the window and his old sweatshirt holding her close, stretching the moment out into eternity.

Bonnie knew once she read his words, it would feel more real. He would really be gone. The scraps of him she had left were dwindling with every unpleasant revelation about their finances. The mess he’d made was crowding out the beautiful years they’d shared, and this letter was her last tether to the good parts. She wanted to cling to it for as long as possible so it wouldn’t lose its potency.

At the same time, she was so greedy for any piece of Peter she could find. She missed him terribly, and the envelope in her hand promised a hit of relief. Peter’s words could keep her loneliness at bay for a while, and offer her some measure of comfort in all of this. She knew it wouldn’t measure up to the kind of grand, romantic goodbye she wished they could have had. Peter didn’t know he was going to die, so there was no reason to believe he would have left her anything so specific as that.

Eventually, that’s what released her and gave her the strength to slide a finger under the seal and open the envelope. She didn’t know why Peter would have written her a letter while he was still alive. Years ago, he’d penned her a few sweet love notes, and he was reliable for birthday cards or a few lines attached to bouquets of flowers. Whatever it was he’d left behind would be a fragment of the love they’d shared all these years, plucked from a random day without occasion—just a piece of an ordinary hour of their lives—and Bonnie needed it more than anything.

It contained two sheets of paper. It was more than she had dared hope for but less than she wanted. She took a deep breath, smoothed the pages against the surface of Peter’s desk, and started reading.

My Darling—

Bonnie’s eyes flooded with tears at the sight of his term of endearment. She’d heard it for the last thirty-nine years, but something about the thought of never hearing it again, only to read it with his hearty baritone as if he were there, engulfed her with an overwhelming emotion she hadn’t been prepared for.

She blinked away the tears, letting the salty remnants of her pain run down her cheeks in rivers, dripping off her chin, so she could continue reading his letter.

—By now I’m sure you’re aware that things with the businesses haven’t been going according to plan lately. It was my intention to resolve everything without you needing to worry about it, but if you are reading this letter, then it’s safe to assume I didn’t meet that goal. Whatever happened to prevent me, I’m sorry. Know that I tried, and it was never my intention to leave you in this position.

Bonnie, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. The afternoon I looked up and saw you across the quad, sun in your hair and a smile on your face, it was like my entire world opened up. I was head over heels for you by the time I learned your name. In that moment, I never could have dreamed up the life we’d make with each other.

I realize our marriage hasn’t always been perfect. There were so many evenings I spent working when I should have been spending time with you and the kids. You are such an amazing mother, Bon. Seeing you with James and Jackie, I never had any doubt that you were meant to be a mother. Even though I missed more of their milestones than I should have, I know the kids had a beautiful childhood, and that is because of you.

You and the kids are what I am proudest of in my life. Our family means so much to me, and I am unbelievably lucky that you chose me, and decided to trust me all these years. All I’ve ever wanted is to take care of you and the kids. It’s been my life’s purpose since I met you. My goal is to continue to care for you for the rest of your life. But if, somehow, I’m not able to do that anymore, this letter is to help you get by on your own.

Love,

Peter

P.S. The following page is for your eyes, and your eyes only. Don’t trust anyone else with it. Never share it, even with someone you think you trust. Not even with my business associates. Keep the list to yourself. XO, P

The following piece of paper was nothing but an enormously long list of usernames and passwords. Bonnie scanned the list and then re-read the letter again and again. As many sweet words as there were folded into the lines on the page, each read-through pushed her further down a path of confusion.

Her heart swelled when she read the passages about how much Peter loved her and the kids. It was so clearly in his voice, his speech cadences as obvious as the curves of his familiar handwriting. But the message tucked into it wasn’t the comfort she’d been hoping for; all those sweet words were wrapped around a bitter pill.

Peter had known there was a possibility his problems would outlive him. Whether he thought this might be a mess that would take decades to untangle, or if this letter were merely a sign that he was covering all of his bases in case the worst should happen, Bonnie hated the hollow way it made her feel. She wished for the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours that Peter had told her what was wrong before it got so out of hand.

The warnings about not trusting his business associates with the login information didn’t help ease her anxiety, either. It made her uneasy to think he didn’t trust the people he worked with day in and day out. She wondered how much of her current situation was really Peter’s fault and how much of it was because he’d put his faith in the wrong people. The idea made her heartsick. He must have been so worried when he died. She hated thinking his final days were filled with pain instead of peace.

Then there was the matter of the list itself.

None of the websites or companies Peter had written out for her were familiar. She didn’t see their bank, insurance company, or anything even remotely recognizable. It wouldn’t have been too shocking to learn that Peter had accounts at a different bank—not after yesterday’s bombshells, that is. But as far as Bonnie could tell, none of these places were financial institutions. Some of the sites were just strings of letters and numbers, more like codes than words.

She put down the list and picked up the first page again for another reread. This time, instead of letting Peter’s compassionate words about their marriage and their family wash over her, she hunted through the text for clues. She picked apart each sentence, hoping there was a hint in there somewhere that could unravel all the confused knots in her mind. There had to be some secret joke or little nod—something to point her in the right direction.

But the more she read, the more helpless she felt. There was nothing there beneath the surface. Peter hadn’t given her a verbal map to the other side of this nightmare; all he’d given her was a handful of his love and a mountain of problems to solve.

Bonnie folded the pages, put them back in the envelope, and pressed it against her chest, hoping to feel something other than defeat and despair. Instead, a well opened up inside her chest, and a sob rose to fill it. Before she could put up any armor against the feeling, it sucked her under. She collapsed forward, her head buried in her arms as she sobbed against Peter’s desk.

The scents of wood, leather, and ink rose up as her tears hit the surface of the blotter on top of the desk. It made her cry harder. She didn’t know how she was supposed to handle any of this, how she was supposed to figure out what Peter meant by giving her this list, or—most importantly—how on Earth she was supposed to dig herself out of the massive crater of debt he’d left her in all alone.

For the first time since the accident, Bonnie let herself feel every single speck of emotion. This time, she didn’t have to worry about staying strong for the kids, or about what was appropriate for a grieving widow. The last thing on her mind was making sure she kept her head above water. She didn’t worry about disrespecting Peter’s memory, or attempting to cling to the good times in order to weather the sting of this colossally bad chapter.

She just let herself grieve—loudly, messily, and unapologetically.

Not once did she think of anything beyond the present moment. She sat in Peter’s chair, weeping until, at long last, she was exhausted enough to face dragging herself upstairs to the bed she’d once shared with him. She collapsed on top of the covers, holding his pillow against her chest, and cried a little more, until finally, her eyes drifted shut.