Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
A shley slept in the next morning. Or, at least, she flipped the door hanger to “do not disturb” on the outer door and firmly bolted both locks. She pretended to not hear him knock. She probably had someplace to be according to his get-to-work schedule.
Too bad.
She was sorting through an influx of information, none of it particularly good or helpful. She was worried that the shopkeepers planned some sort of uprising. Maybe they weren’t out sharpening their pitchforks and threatening death and dismemberment, but as a group, they had more collective power than they might currently be aware.
But that truth wouldn’t remain hidden for long. And if they caught wind that she was working with Christopher to learn the saboteur’s identity? She would be their next target.
Unless his implication about finishing their business meant meeting with a lawyer and starting divorce proceedings, then everyone would know exactly where she and her husband stood.
Her heart slammed into the front of her chest. Under the covers, she rubbed the heel of her hand over the general area housing that useless organ. She’d been lying awake for hours now. As long as she remained here, she gave him plenty of time and opportunity to ambush her.
No thank you.
She slipped out from under the covers and dressed quickly. She gave his schedule a half-hearted glance. He’d given her time off today for rest . She rolled her eyes. Peace wasn’t to be found alone with her thoughts.
He’d floated the idea of her helping with the lighthouse renovation project. That seemed as good a place as any to head. At least then she’d have a purpose for her wandering and wouldn’t give the appearance of the truth. Lost, lonely soul . She needed to conduct her own investigation of the sight.
But something else bugged her from yesterday’s revelations. She wasn’t the only imaginative person in town. Maybe Christopher was right to call her out for not supporting Seth’s lake legend dream. Seth deserved friendship and not skepticism. She found her cell phone. Pulling up the print shop’s website, she called the number.
“It’s a great day to print your way,” Seth greeted. “How may I help you?”
“Hi, Seth. It’s Ashley Hale-Lewis.”
“Hi, Ashley. I’m almost done with the latest batch of menus if Christopher is having you check up on me.”
Did everyone know her husband put her to work doing grunt jobs? “Oh, that’s great. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear. But no. I was calling about that other thing.” She cleared her throat. She’d let Christopher into her head and couldn’t escape until she made amends. “Soupy?”
“Really? You seemed like a skeptic yesterday.”
She frowned. She hated the truth in his words. “I’m sorry about that. I was sort of taken by surprise. And I had a few ideas about Soupy. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up?”
“Well, I’ll be at the coffee shop around two. I’m meeting up with Elise McKenna to discuss a project for the historical society.”
“Two sounds great. I’ll see you there. Bye.” She hung up the phone and sighed. Now, she had to find time to draft something about Soupy that sounded convincing enough to get back on Seth’s good side. Hopefully, she could figure it out on the fly. In the meantime, she had someplace to be where she could sneak around without getting Mr. Willie’s or Christopher’s attention.
Pocketing her phone and room key, she tugged a ball cap low over her head and exited the room with her chin down. Incognito, no one stopped her as she made her way down the stairs and past the hospitality tray set up in the lobby. She grabbed a granola bar and poured herself a coffee.
“Ms. Hale?” Mr. Brixen called across the room. “Is that you? Mrs. Lewis? Ms. Hale-Lewis?”
She drew her ears up to her shoulders. Her disguise hadn’t been enough to conceal her identity. Sipping from her coffee, she slowly made her way to the concierge desk at the end of the front desk. “Hello.”
“Sorry, do you want to be called Mrs. Hale-Lewis?” Mr. Brixen frowned. “I should have asked.”
She forced a smile across her features. “Please don’t worry. Hale-Lewis works. How may I help you?”
“I have an envelope here for Mr. Lewis. I was wondering if you might deliver it to him?”
She gritted her molars. Everyone knew Christopher treated her like an unpaid intern at the moment. She almost reminded Mr. Brixen that the role was only temporary. She would assume her rightful place as the boss soon. He might think twice before asking her to be a messenger.
“I have to run out for a guest, and I gather you’re meeting with Mr. Lewis?” Mr. Brixen asked, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry to impose. I would so appreciate if you would deliver it to him?”
She was glad he was able to read her thoughts. She softened her expression. “Of course, I will. Our meeting is later, but I’ll take it to him. I appreciate how you devote your time to our guests first and foremost.”
Mr. Brixen beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.” He extended the envelope.
She widened her gaze and accepted the thick package. The thick envelope was decorated with sparkly white hibiscus flowers on a white ground. In the upper right corner, she spotted the return address.
Hawaii. She nibbled the inside of her cheek. He had some nerve planning a trip to celebrate his victory over her. They’d talked about visiting the Hawaiian islands for their ten-year anniversary. She’d missed it, and he booked a vacation alone. She never pictured him on a beach without her forcing him to put his toes in the sand. However, if he had thrived for the past decade without her, he was clearly capable of all sorts of behavior she couldn’t have anticipated.
Or maybe he’s got a job lined up . The sudden thought was rational and reasonable, given her husband’s work hard, never play personality. If he left, he’d solve a lot of problems. Still, her stomach dropped, and she stuffed the envelope into her oversized, tote-style purse. “I’ll take care of this.”
Mr. Brixen nodded.
She retreated to the doors, gripping the bag tight. Inside, she carried something or nothing. She wouldn’t know which for a while. If he ever told her… She pushed the worries to one side.
Outside, she surveyed the lawn but didn’t see him. She didn’t have time for distractions, but a montage of everything that had happened and all that could never be played in her mind. She’d imagined a big wedding on the lawn. But once Xavier told her she was too young to be engaged, she’d run off to the courthouse with Christopher. She’d pictured spending the Fourth of July out here, laying on a blanket and staring at the sky with her children as fireworks erupted overhead. But then she’d run, and Christopher hadn’t followed her.
She sipped her coffee and made her way down to the lighthouse. Crossing over the wooden bridge, she didn’t see anything out of order around the perimeter. She approached the door and pushed with her fingertips, holding her breath as she did.
Please be a nice ghost. On tiptoes, she entered. And saw nothing.
She spun in a circle and frowned. Besides the melted and burned debris of her air mattress and ruined sleeping bag, nothing else took up space on the floor.
If someone else had been inside and digging for a supposed treasure, like Christopher supposed, the floor would have been disturbed. Evidence would be left. She spotted nothing.
No one else had been here.
She shuddered, and her whole body quaked as a chill swept her from head to toe. Besides fire damage, the lighthouse remained otherwise undisturbed. Saboteurs could have returned and covered their tracks. She’d left the lighthouse for several days. But some trace of disturbance would be visible.
No human was capable of lifting floorboards and shifting dirt without a hint of their activity. The perp or perps had plenty of time to return to the scene and continue whatever their end goal was. But they hadn’t. Her ghost theory strengthened. What is a ghost’s end game? Unfinished business? Companionship?
She refused to pursue that morbid line of thought. She was hardly in a place of critiquing someone else’s end goal when she wasn’t sure of hers. Last night, she should have talked to Christopher and asked him what he meant by finishing their business. Hiding today didn’t help. They had a post-nuptial agreement that would make the divorce process relatively straightforward.
In the current circumstances, the document would serve her husband far better. Instead of the fifty-fifty split, winner would take all. Perhaps Dad would have wanted the exact outcome. She couldn’t deny the improvements Christopher had made. Her logical, careful husband had focused all his attention on eliminating waste and creating opportunity.
But he missed some chances for fun. Maybe he had forgotten how to enjoy himself in her absence. She hoped so. Because she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. They could take the Inn from a quaint hideaway to an entertaining destination if they worked together. Or at least they’d enjoy the time spent together. He couldn’t fake the glow in his amber eyes or the warmth of his smile.
A cold chill snaked down her spine like an ice cube traveled each and every vertebrae. The effect was so peculiar. As the goosebumps rose on her arm, she curled her toes.
The sensation wasn’t the same as she’d experienced the night of the fire. Then, she’d been trapped and almost suffocated. This feeling was lighter, more of a tickle than a taunt.
Zach was right. Dad was the only person to die on the Inn’s premises, and he hadn’t been anywhere near the lighthouse. He’d been found in his bed. While she hated the unfinished business between them, she wasn’t sure he’d been impacted enough to stick around and try to contact her from the other side. Now that she was here, she couldn’t ignore the facts anymore.
She stumbled forward. From a perfectly still position, knees locked, she’d been pushed to the ground. The shove was sudden and forceful. On her hands and knees, she was turned away from the windows, staring at the ground.
And then came the blast.
The single panes of glass shattered. Dust rose. The walls crumbled like a sandcastle on a windy day. The building was collapsing. How? She scrambled to her feet and raced outside. Shielding her gaze, she stared up at the building, and then came another boom, and the stones toppled in on themselves. A force pushed her backward.
She tumbled into the lake: splashing, kicking, and trying desperately to make sense of the unfolding situation. Bobbing up and down, she reached her arms out, grasping for anything. She strained her neck above the water, dragging in air. Her head spun, and she couldn’t sort up from down. A life ring hit her in the head. She grabbed onto the orange circle and waved.
“Ashley?” Steve Prim called.
She coughed and nodded, gripping the life ring tight.
“Hold on, I’ll pull you up.” He tugged the rope attached to the life ring.
The icy water chilled her like a thousand tiny needles pricking her skin. The longer she remained in the lake, the less she was in control as her body went numb. Then she felt like she was engulfed by invisible flames, her limbs scalding as she burned from the inside out.
At the swim platform, she reached for the boat with one hand. She hit the slatted wooden platform with her fist, unable to uncurl her fingers. She forced her hand flat and pulled herself onto the boat. Drenched to the bone, she curled into the fetal position.
Steve approached with a thick towel. He moved his mouth.
Why wasn’t he speaking? What was he doing?
He reached for her and lifted her over the back of the boat, wrapping her tight in the towel and rubbing her arms.
She couldn’t stop shaking. Ashley wanted him to let go of her. She was fine, but her body wasn’t delivering the message. Her chin wouldn’t stop trembling long enough for her mouth to form words. She raised her palms and gently pushed against his chest.
He stepped back.
She sank onto the bench and cleared her ears by blowing her nose. But the sounds remained distant and waterlogged. “Hi, Steve. Thank you.”
“Are you okay? What were you doing at the lighthouse?”
Heat crept up her neck. She owed him no explanation. Christopher deserved the truth of how she spent her free time. But she wouldn’t talk about her ghost to anyone else.
Her teeth chattered, the rapid-fire motion uncontrollable. Was she suffering extreme embarrassment or a fever? She hoped neither.
He stood over her, staring down.
She tucked a leg underneath her. She had never known Steve to be judgmental or opinionated. But she couldn’t help the skin-crawling feeling he was assessing her now and found her extremely lacking in character, common sense, and courage.
He took a few steps back and settled in the captain’s chair, scrubbing away whatever expression marred his typically sun-kissed, smiling face. He was a good-looking guy. Golden and glowing. But he had depths she hadn’t guessed at. “I don’t want to sound like I’m telling you what to do.”
So don’t. I have a husband for that. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth.
“I have to discourage you from taking selfies for your social media in dangerous places. You know this lake is deep and dark. Please take care of yourself. We just got you back.”
Now she really didn’t know how to respond. Did he think she was only driven by curating her life? Until a few days ago, that had been true. She was home, and she wanted so much more. Instead of an argument, though, she’d try a different angle. “Don’t suppose you saw what happened?”
“It looked like a dynamite explosion or something. It was like a movie. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
She tested her muscles, twisting from one side to the other and extending both legs. “I think I’ll be okay.”
“That building should have been condemned years ago. It nearly collapsed on you. What if I hadn’t been going by? Why is there no lifeguard at the Inn? You could have drowned.”
She knew why the beach was closed. That was entirely her fault. Until a replacement chair arrived, the one she’d sunk was broken after its retrieval, the Inn discouraged swimming.
“Was it the ghost?”
She stared. Finally, someone believed her. She couldn’t celebrate or commiserate.
But his acceptance was off. He rattled off the conclusion in a second like a prepared remark. His family believed in the made-up story about treasure, and Zach had told her Steve mentioned odd sights on the island. She didn’t like his answer. But she didn’t have it in her to question him. “I don’t think a ghost can demolish stones like that.”
But a spirit could have saved me. She would have been standing directly under the windows if she hadn’t been shoved. She hated the deadly possibilities. Her throat sliced by shards of broken glass. Or her head smashed by a falling stone.
“Maybe Soupy?” Steve asked.
She stifled a groan, avoiding that minefield.
Why was everyone so eager to buy into a lake monster concept that made no sense ? For a legend to endure, some logic was required. At least she presented a solid argument for her apparition. She crossed her arms over her body, rubbing her shoulders. She was icy down to her bones. “I’m okay. Can you take me to shore?”
“No. You need to get checked up. You might have a concussion or something. The Inn will want to brush this off. You need to file a report and get this cited.” Steve turned away and revved the engine of the idling, bobbing boat.
Don’t I get a say ? She wouldn’t mind a checkup. As an adult, she could make her own choices.
Steve took charge of the situation, not asking her opinion or desires.
She hated the loss of control. Because she would have agreed to a check-up if he had asked. Why is he so invested in getting me to the hospital? Once again, she missed some bigger part of the whole picture, a connection that would make sense in hindsight.
Arguing with a determined man never achieved her goals. Ashley would placate Steve but get some much-needed support, even if asking her husband for back-up meant he’d insist on a trip to the lawyer to officially decide property ownership before further damage could be done.
“Can you get my purse?” Ashley shouted, her voice breaking. She pointed a shaky arm to the bag a few feet away near the rubble.
Steve nodded and steered the boat close. He retrieved the purse with one swift movement, barely lifting out of the captain’s chair. He tossed the bag in her direction.
If she wasn’t so cold, she’d stare. Instead, she grabbed the purse off the ground and pulled her cell phone out of her bag. With her cold hands, she fumbled with the device.
OTW to hospital with Steve Prim. Hurry.
She sank back against the seat cushion. She wasn’t sure if she’d added enough panic in the text or if she’d scared her husband too much. A manual for etiquette in tense situations would be handy.
Slipping the phone into her purse, she crossed her arms over her chest and held on tight. She had too many questions swirling around her mind. At the top of her list, she wondered at Steve’s proximity to the Inn in his personal watercraft. Why float around near the lighthouse if he wasn’t leading a tour?
Unless, he’s my ghost?
Fred’s folly had been built to establish ownership of the disputed land. Now it might serve to bring down the whole empire. She’d resolve to do the impossible. Not say a word until Christopher showed up at the hospital.
* * *
While living without her had been hard, Christopher always had hope for their future. If time could heal all things, he kept the faith for their reconciliation. In his mind, they were destined for each other.
After running off and eloping, they had returned to her very unimpressed father. Having grown up on the property alongside Ashley, he had known and respected her father the same as his own. Christopher had watched her manipulate every situation to her benefit. He hadn’t given the rushed marriage a second thought, figuring, like every other occasion, she’d charm everyone into accepting her decisions.
Only, this time, she hadn’t.
He’d gone to Xavier Hale. Christopher had vowed to stand tall and listen if the old man wanted to berate him. But instead, Xavier had been shaken by his daughter’s impetuous decision. He looked scared by the lengths she’d go to get her way. In that moment, Christopher didn’t see the institution but the human. And they’d forged an uneasy bond.
Slowly, day by day, Christopher proved to Xavier that he was worthy of the daughter and valued the business. But then he’d strained his relationship with Ashley. She wanted to be the center of his world, the only Hale he spent time with. She couldn’t appreciate what the unofficial apprenticeship meant. And he’d never been good at explaining.
Suddenly everything changed. While she had expressed frustration with her father for not training her, she had never told Christopher of an ultimatum until she was packing the car. One day, she was her usual, bubbly self, and the next, she was leaving. He didn’t take her decision seriously, figuring she said something rash to her father in the heat of the moment and would turn the car around as soon as she calmed down. By the time he realized he should have listened to the hurt in her tone over the angry words, he had lost her.
In the kitchen, he finished his salad while leaning back against the stainless-steel sink. If he stayed on his feet and kept moving, he could almost run away from his problems. Last night, when he had said he wanted to finish their business, she hadn’t flinched or tried to stop him. She hadn’t reacted at all.
He wanted some response. From a typically heart-on-her-sleeve personality, her stare was particularly chilling. Where was her fire and fight? He was starting the process of ending their marriage. It wasn’t in his best interest to remain financially tangled together. With a hefty payout, he would end the monthly allowance. He could start fresh.
Did he want that?
He had been okay with the status quo because at least it gave him the illusion that she still loved him. When she had brought up Elise, she had almost given him the impression she was jealous.
In a town full of superstitious people, he and Elise were the only skeptics. They shared some of the burden of asking the obvious questions and pointing out the irrational antics. Elise was close with Seth, and it would never have occurred to Christopher to question her beliefs about Soupy. Logic and reason weren’t the basis for attraction. And he’d never been drawn to Elise the way Ashley pulled him. She had been his sun.
He’d avoided her all day. His head urged him to start the talk with the lawyer, but his broken heart couldn’t handle going through with it. Without her, he had hidden under a cloud. In only a few hours, he had forced himself back into the shade and withered. He hated it. He needed her. She was quite content on her own.
In his back pocket, his cell phone buzzed.
He reached for his phone with one hand and set the bowl in the sink with the other.
He swiped the screen with his thumb and froze. As the text popped up, he was colder than ice, his blood chilling his veins.
My wife: OTW to hospital with Steve Prim. Hurry.
The message didn’t give him enough information. Was Steve hurt? Or was Ashley seriously injured? What had happened?
The side door crashed against a wall.
A fresh-faced teen, dressed in the logo-emblazoned green polo the summer groundskeeping staff wore, rushed in.
“Sir, the lighthouse collapsed.”
Christopher’s jaw dropped. He looked from the teen to his phone and back again. Ashley must have been inside. His throat swelled, threatening to cut off his oxygen supply. He coughed, forcing the airway open. He’d focus on taking action. “Get Mr. Willie and tell him to block off the area. The lake is already off-limits. I have to be somewhere right now. It’s urgent.”
The pimpled-faced kid nodded. But his gaze slid to the side.
“Now. Go.” Christopher never yelled at his employees.
The teen needed the verbal push. He raced away.
Christopher had never been so directionless and in need of a firm hand to guide him. Although, he’d had two. Xavier and Ashley. The strong-willed Hales took charge of him for most of his youth. His past didn’t matter. She’s hurt, and it’s my fault.
He exited the building without another glance at the staff and hopped in his SUV. He depressed the accelerator to the floor mat, driving as fast as he could. If a deputy stopped him, he’d explain the situation and probably earn an escort. Staying in one place a person’s whole life had a few benefits.
He reached the hospital in record time, parking in the main lot and racing inside.
“Christopher?”
He stopped inside the automatic doors, his shoes squeaking against the tiles and turned.
Behind the main desk, Lauren Jenkins waved. “She’s in room 213.”
He nodded and jogged past the elevator banks and up the stairs. In a small town, he couldn’t escape the people causing him trouble. Bumping into their siblings was inevitable. Pushing Zach Jenkins out of his mind, he raced ahead. He reached her room, doubling over as he dragged in every burning breath he could.
“Christopher?” Ashley asked.
He straightened, his chest heaving from his exertion, and saluted her.
In a hospital gown, she sat on a bed with a sheet covering her legs.
Superficially, she looked okay. The surroundings added a sense of drama, but she wasn’t visibly bandaged and had no beeping machines attached to her. Appearances could be deceiving. In this case, he wouldn’t guess the extent of her trauma.
She was admitted for observation. Whatever it was, he would support her. He’d stand by her and help her get through it. For better or worse . He hated to think this was how they found each other again, but he would not waste the chance to prove himself. “Ashley, let me say I?—”
“Shh. He’s only just stepped out to make a call,” she hissed.
“Who?”
“Steve Prim.” She waved for him to approach.
Christopher rounded the bed. Facing the door, he could monitor the entrance. He leaned close.
“I was in the lighthouse. It was fine. Barely touched by the fire.”
“I know. I checked it out, too. It’s odd. I didn’t see anything noticeably out of place.” Almost like there is a ghost . He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find, but besides smoke stains in the dusty interior, the building was at its same level of disheveled. If the structural integrity had been compromised, shouldn’t he have noticed? He wasn’t an engineer, but he wasn’t obtuse, either.
“While I was inside, I felt a chill and fell to the ground. Then the explosion came.”
“Explosion?” He widened his gaze. Shouldn’t a boom have shaken the Inn? Wouldn’t the glass rattle in the frames of every window following a detonation? “How long ago?”
“A few minutes before I texted.”
At that time, he had been inside the kitchen. The noisiest place on the whole property. He didn’t like that he hadn’t heard a loud pop. Or glass breaking. He’d been oblivious to a major catastrophe only yards away. He’d have to think about how to do better, so he was always aware. “So… what happened?”
“I don’t know. I think there is a ghost. But a friendly spirit who saved me. I made it out before the stones collapsed. Another blast came and knocked me into the water. Steve was going by on his boat and fished me out.”
“His boat?”
“Yeah. Not with tourists.” She stretched each word. “Like a personal boat. An old Supra.”
Her tone was unmistakable. But was Steve’s behavior suspicious? Christopher didn’t understand why the Prims continued to stall opening for the season. If their boats had problems, surely Steve was better off fixing up their fleet at the boathouse and not cruising around the lake near the Inn’s property in a personal vehicle. Something was off.
Right now, however, Christopher had to focus on what mattered. Her. Not the Prims. “How are you feeling? Did you hit your head?”
“No, I’m fine. Steve insisted, and he’s trying to get the police involved. He wants me to file a report. Against the Inn.”
If she did, she would have effective legal documentation against him. She might even take the property back as damages. He’d accept it. First and foremost, he wanted her safe. “What do you want to do?”
“Get out of here before he comes back.”
She didn’t want to take action against me? He wouldn’t push her one way or the other. The opportunity to use the explosion to her advantage shouldn’t have risen to the top of his concerns. But it did. He realized he wouldn’t fight her if she pursued legal action. More than anything, he needed her healthy. “Are you sure you can?”
“Yes. Can you guard the door? I’m going to change. The doctor said I could leave. He told me once Steve left, but I didn’t have a ride. I’d like to be gone before Steve returns with a cop.”
So, you just needed a lift? She popped him like an overinflated inner tube. He was glad she wasn’t hurt. But he’d wanted to be something more than a ride. He wanted to be a husband.
He turned and strode toward the door, shutting it and leaning against it in the hallway, standing sentry. He’d never quite been a full partner to her, not in the meaningful ways he imagined. Did he fight for another chance? Or was it time to take flight and let her go and find someone who could make her happy in all the ways he couldn’t?