Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
As they approached Windermere, Quinn pulled a business card out of her back pocket and handed it to Gabe. He glanced at it, then looked at her quizzically.
“Let’s go there,” she said.
“Montrose Lake House,” Gabe read aloud. “Where did you get this?”
“Nicole gave it to me when we were planning a weekend away for our anniversary.”
They’d decided to go to the Cotswolds instead, but Quinn had kept the card and had stuffed it into her pocket before leaving the house.
Nicole and Kyle had escaped London during the pandemic and spent a few nights with Kyle’s friends, Sam and Reggie.
The two men had purchased an old Tudor manor house near Keswick after Sam’s acting career fizzled out, and had opened a boutique hotel.
The lakeside hotel would be the perfect place to hide out for a few days, since it was off the beaten path and no one would know that was where they’d gone, not even a holiday rentals agent.
And if Sam and Reggie weren’t able to accommodate them, they might be able to recommend another hotel or rental in the area.
“All right,” Gabe said. “But I’m going to need a map. I’ll never find this place without satnav.”
“We can buy a map at any gift shop in Windermere.”
“Can we get more snacks?” Alex asked.
“I need to go to the toilet,” Mia wailed.
“Me too,” Max said.
Emma remained silent, music pumping in her ears as she stared fixedly at the scenic landscape that rushed past the car windows.
The younger children saw this impromptu getaway as an opportunity to skip school and have an adventure, but Emma was old enough to know this trip for what it was, an escape, and she was worried, both for Logan and Max and for her own family.
The children were hungry, so they found a place to eat, purchased a map, several bottles of water, and some snacks, and continued on their way.
Quinn tried the number on the card, but the calls went directly to voicemail, which was concerning.
Perhaps the hotel had closed since Nicole and Kyle went there, but it was still worth a shot.
And there were bound to be other guesthouses in the vicinity that might have room for walk-ins.
Emma perked up when they finally pulled up to the hotel.
Several cars were lined up in the car park, and they saw a couple leaving the house and walking towards their vehicle.
So the hotel was definitely open for business.
As a mother, Quinn was relieved; she needed to know that the children would have a safe and comfortable place to sleep tonight.
But as a historian, she couldn’t help but admire the architecture.
Constructed of solid gray stone, the Tudor building was imposing and faintly unwelcoming.
Twin-peaked gables crowned the roof, and tall mullioned windows set deep within thick walls lent the facade a stately air.
The leaded glass caught the late afternoon light, while stout chimneys hinted at multiple hearths within.
Functional rather than sprawling, the house conveyed a sense of permanence and quiet authority, built by skilled craftsmen to endure for generations.
Carefully pruned rose bushes framed the front of the house, while blooming damson trees and sloe bushes dotted the grounds, lending them a natural, untamed air, so unlike the uncompromisingly geometric layouts of traditional Tudor gardens.
Behind the house, a vast lake shimmered like mercury, and Quinn couldn’t help imagining how the place must have appeared centuries earlier, when it must have been the seat of some important local family.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Gabe offered.
Inside, the manor was a seamless blend of old and new, ancient and modern.
Polished wood gleamed beneath recessed lighting, and the coffered ceiling appeared original to the house.
Through an open door, the lounge revealed furnishings that looked comfortable but had obviously been chosen to complement rather than clash with the historic décor.
“Hello there,” a deep voice boomed from somewhere to Quinn’s left, and she recognized Sam Cross the moment he stepped forward to greet her. She’d seen him in a BBC adaptation of King Lear that had earned him a BAFTA nomination in the early 2000s.
Now, twenty years later, Sam reminded her of an aging Viking. His thick blond hair and beard were shot through with silver, his blue eyes crinkled warmly when he smiled, and his stout, barrel-chested frame would have looked perfectly authentic clad in leather and fur, a sword strapped to his hip.
Reggie, who had come to join them in the reception area, was the exact opposite of his partner.
He was tall, Black, bald, and several years younger than Sam.
Yet together they had the unmistakable air of an old married couple—two people, who, despite their obvious differences, had somehow grown to resemble one another.
“Darling, I’m so sorry,” Sam said when Quinn told him that the hotel had been enthusiastically recommended by Nicole and they’d need two rooms for several nights’ stay.
“We would bend over backwards to accommodate friends of Kyle and Nicole, but we’re fully booked this weekend.
I wish you would have called a few weeks ago. Or made a reservation online.”
“This was a spur-of-the moment getaway,” Quinn explained.
“Are you on the run from the law?” Sam asked with a throaty chuckle.
“Not quite,” Quinn replied, but the quip wasn’t far from the truth.
Reggie had yet to say anything, but his eyebrows lifted as if he had suddenly thought of something.
“Sammy, what about the boathouse?” he suggested and turned to Quinn when Sam nodded approvingly.
“It was recently remodeled and converted into a private rental, but we haven’t opened it up to guests yet. ”
“Why not?” Quinn asked, sensing there might be a hitch.
“A pipe in the master bath was leaking, so the water had to be temporarily shut off. The plumber is coming back next week.” Sam rolled his eyes dramatically, as if to suggest that plumbers and contractors the world over made the same promises—and rarely kept them.
“But the second bathroom is operational and is equipped with a shower stall. We would, of course, give you a discount to offset the inconvenience,” he added smoothly.
“We’ll take it,” Quinn said and felt a wave of relief. At least accommodation was sorted. They’d deal with the rest once they were settled.
“Splendid,” Sam agreed and smiled winsomely.
“There are two bedrooms, and we can sort a folding bed for the little boy. There’s a fully operational kitchen, but you would have to bring in your own supplies.
I’m afraid we can’t accommodate so many additional people for dinner, but you’re welcome to join us for breakfast. We do not serve lunch.
” He smiled apologetically. “Is that all right?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Quinn assured him. And it was. They would have everything they needed, and most importantly retain their privacy.
“I’ll get the keys,” Reggie said and disappeared down the corridor. He returned with a pair of old-fashioned brass keys. “I’ll take you over, shall I?”
“Yes, please.”
“And I’ll bring fresh towels and toiletries,” Sam promised. “And if there’s anything you need, dial nine on the house phone.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said, but her mind was already on the practicalities.
The kitchen was actually a bonus. She’d pop out and get some groceries, and they would hole up at the boathouse until she heard from Sean.
“You can take out the rowboat if you like,” Reggie said as he showed them around the lovely old house that was located some distance down the shore and had its own parking spot.
It was clearly a later addition to the property, probably Victorian, and resembled a gingerbread house with its weathervane-topped central tower, lacy white trim, and arched doorway and windows. “There are two sets of oars.”
“What’s that there?” Emma asked and pointed to a wooded island in the middle of the lake.
A badly charred Gothic ruin was just visible through the trees. Empty windows gaped in a crumbling stone wall, and the interior was open to the elements since all that remained of the roof were a few blackened beams.
“That used to be an abbey, but the nuns who survived the attack on their home during the Dissolution of the Monasteries were driven out. The building burned down centuries ago, and the property was abandoned by the new owner after his pregnant wife disappeared without a trace. We would ask that you don’t go out to the island,” Reggie said. “It’s not safe.”
He wore an expression of distaste and turned away from the window, clearly unwilling to say any more.
Quinn had read Nicole’s book, The Devil’s Den, which was set on the island and based on real historical events, but she wasn’t about to tell Emma about the young bride who had vanished on the night of the fire.
That might pique her curiosity, perhaps enough to prompt her to venture out to the island and investigate the ruin and the ancient crypt that had been sealed centuries before to conceal the remains of the women who had been murdered on the island.
“This place is so cool,” Alex said once Reggie left them to get settled in.
“Dad, can we take the boat out?” Emma asked.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Gabe replied absentmindedly.
He was looking around, no doubt evaluating the security of their temporary home.
There were a dozen windows but only one door, which faced the lake.
The windows were equipped with black wooden shutters that could be latched from the inside.
The boathouse had that faintly sterile, unlived-in scent common to new houses—or to a home fresh from an extensive renovation.
The kitchen cupboards smelled woodsy, the walls and trim were newly painted a nondescript beige, and the bathroom tiles gleamed a pristine white.
In a way, it was reassuring to know that no one had slept in the beds or used the amenities.
As with so many other people, the pandemic had made Quinn acutely aware of the cleanliness and safety of all the places she had once entered without a second thought.
It reminded her of the countless strangers who had sat in the same chairs, touched the same buttons and door handles, and thumbed through menus that were usually handled with unwashed hands.
And it made her wonder just how many people had slept in the same hotel beds and on sheets that were laundered in huge industrial washers that were rarely cleaned.
Quinn was distracted from her musings by Max, who, still clutching the teddy bear he had appropriated, walked over to the sofa, and huddled in the corner. He looked frightened and small, and his eyes filled with tears as he looked from Quinn to Gabe, clearly in need of reassurance.
“Come on, matey.” Gabe held out a hand to the little boy. “You and I are in charge of dinner. What should we get?”
“Pizza,” Max whispered.
“Pizza it is. With toppings of your choice.”
Max brightened a little. “Can we have sausage and green peppers?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want sausage,” Mia protested.
“I do,” Emma said.
“We will order two pies,” Gabe promised.
“Can you pick up something for breakfast?” Quinn asked. “The cupboards are empty.”
Gabe nodded, and he and Max went out to the car.
As soon as they left, Sam arrived with a folding bed, a stack of towels, and a pretty basket filled with little bottles, soaps, and colorful bath salts, which would be of little use since they couldn’t use the tub. He also brought a bottle of red wine.
“On the house,” he said as he set the wine on the kitchen counter. “Do you have everything you need? Pillows, blankets, phone chargers? Wi-Fi password?”
“We’re not allowed on our phones,” Emma said bitterly.
“One of those weekends, eh?” Sam said and winked at her. “What have you done to deserve that, pet?”
“I don’t know,” Emma muttered under her breath and marched into the bedroom.
“Well, I see you have your hands full,” Sam said and backed towards the door. “Have a pleasant stay.”