Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
A shley hadn’t worried about her appearance. In the chaos of falling into the lake fully clothed and being admitted to the hospital, she hadn’t cared. When she arrived, she had readily accepted the dry hospital gown. Getting out of her wet jeans and soaking bra was her top priority.
The back of the garment was open, so she had gotten under the warm covers. If she was being evaluated for a concussion, she might as well be as comfortable as possible. She could be here for a while.
When Christopher had entered the room, he had paled and quickly covered his mouth with a hand. She jumped off the bed, tossing the blanket in the process, ready to assist him in case he vomited or fainted. She almost asked who had died. She knew that answer. Her dad. And then, today, she’d been close to joining him.
Cool air fanned her through the open back.
His eyes widened at her outfit, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
She sobered in an instant and quickly explained the current predicament. She had to get out of there before Steve Prim raised the stakes.
Whatever happened, she wouldn’t ruin Christopher. Pulling her damp jeans over her legs was a process. While no longer soaking wet, the heavy denim stuck and clung. She didn’t manage much better with her T-shirt. Worst of all, however, was slipping into her canvas sneakers. She squished and squelched with each step. She wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a warm bed.
Had Christopher looked bereft because of me? Her heart skipped a beat. She wished.
Childhood best friends turned lovers wasn’t anything extraordinary. It had been dumb luck, as she would describe most of her kismet moments. The sweet, cute kid who always followed along with a plan grew into a caring, sexy man before her eyes. He could have fallen for anyone. He should. He’d be so much better off with someone who listened twice as much as she talked.
The first time he’d kissed her, he had needed a little push. She’d flung herself into his arms. She had been desperate to press against him, to feel his lips on hers. The heady romance was buoyed in part by her father’s displeasure at it. But not solely. She loved Christopher because of who he was and the man he would become. She loved his past and present and longed to be his future.
That was over. He’d made his choice. And it wasn’t her.
She grabbed her purse and traced the outline of the room key in the interior pocket. That was a miracle she could thank the ghost for. She shivered and strode across the room, opening the door.
He turned and frowned. “Ready?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. Her whole body was clammy. And chapped. Wet undergarments were a whole other level of torture. “Yes, let’s go.”
With each step, she held her breath. She wasn’t exactly sneaking out, which was good because her wet shoes weren’t conducive to stealth. She wanted a clean getaway before Steve came back. Not that she was threatened by Steve. He was sweet and sincere and conspicuous. He couldn’t plot, plan, or scheme. That’s why they’d never work and why she had turned him down in middle school.
But she worried why he had stepped out of the room. He had probably called Carl. If she could avoid one man for the rest of her life, it would be Carl Prim. That was another reason for emphatically checking the no box in seventh-grade math when Steve had slipped her a note asking her to be his girlfriend.
She followed Christopher out of the hospital, stopping for her official discharge papers at the front desk. She was forced into a wheelchair. He left to get his car. An orderly wheeled her outside to wait.
She fought to keep from sighing or rolling her eyes. She wouldn’t fuss or fight. She wanted to leave, and any prolonging wasn’t helping her cause.
Christopher parked the SUV at the curb. He hopped out of the vehicle, leaving the engine idling, and opened the passenger door.
She smiled, pleased by the little courtesy. Until she spotted the towel spread over the seat. Not so much a gentleman that he didn’t put his car’s interior above her pride. She knew where she stood. She hopped in and buckled. In the same position, she might have behaved similarly. But she would have given the terrycloth to the person for warmth and not to shield the upholstery from a soggy bottom.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, reversing from the parking spot and driving toward the Inn.
For several moments, she drifted in the silence. She’d finally found someone who believed in the ghost. Steve’s fervent attitude frightened her. She wouldn’t try to pretend nothing had happened.
And at least the latest incident stalled any sort of real talk for a little while. Did the d-word linger on his tongue every time he said hello? She could stall with a topic he’d dismiss. But the longer she stayed, the less she could explain away the odd goings-on. She turned in her seat, studying him. “Do you think there could be a ghost? I was alone in the lighthouse today, but I had some sort of... And just before the fire. I still have questions.”
“You started the fire by accident,” he said slowly. “I didn’t notice any structural issues at the time, but I’m not a fire marshal. The blaze must have done more damage than either of us realized. The stones were weakened and fell apart like dominoes.”
She scrunched her nose. That answer just didn’t work. She knew what she’d felt. Her mind didn’t invent what she had heard. A loud pop or bang. A clear, deliberate noise. For several moments after the blast, she’d listened to the world like she was underwater. Her hearing had returned. The explosion hadn’t been fatal at least. It had definitely been intentional.
She stroked her chin. “To what end would someone sabotage the building?”
“You mean besides yourself. Now that you’re not there trying to scare me off.”
Her cheeks burned. “Who else could possibly gain anything from bringing us both down? Because either way, one of us owns the resort.”
“I don’t know. I can’t think this was anything more than a terrible accident. Thank goodness you weren’t hurt.”
She half-listened, turning to stare at the passing scenery. The old treasure story poked up in the middle of every explanation. Besides ghosts. “I just don’t get why someone would do that in broad daylight. Wouldn’t someone looking for treasure wait until nighttime?”
“Unless they know what they are looking for is under the lighthouse, and destroying the building during the day allows them to search through the rubble at night.”
She faced him and grinned. Finally, they were on the same page. And shenanigans had been one of the hallmarks of their relationship. She might not get more than one last chance to share a little fun. If they solved a mystery in the midst, all the better.
His stomach growled. Hers joined in.
He pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “How about I’ll grab us some food and bring it up to the office, okay? We can discuss upstairs.”
She liked that. She’d like it even more if they could plot at a fancy restaurant. A curl of anticipation and nerves settled low in her belly. In the past ten years, she’d forgotten the sensation. At an off-property place, she could flirt with her husband properly. After all, she could segue into being a double agent. Zach would most likely approve.
But Christopher wouldn’t. He’d have some well-thought-out counterargument ready. So, she’d take what she could get and run with it. “After I take a hot shower? Maybe put on some dry clothes.” And makeup. Like a date.
His amber eyes flashed, burning bright.
She almost added the suggestion to the end of that question. She wouldn’t put herself through the pain of his rejection again. No matter how sweet the potential pleasure if he accepted. It made everything about the last few weeks almost bearable. Like dealing with the fervent townsfolk and Soupy.
Her stomach dropped. She forgot about Soupy. If she put off her meeting with Seth, she wouldn’t win him to her side. Not that she was so sure how she was playing anything anymore. Who was a friend? A foe? Why pick sides if her homecoming was forever? Couldn’t she have it all?
“Everything okay?” Christopher asked, frowning.
She shook her head, plastering on a smile. “Yes, everything is fine. It’s just… Can I get a raincheck? Can we meet in your office later? I have a meeting that I almost forgot about. I’m late.”
“You do?”
“It’s a Soupy development meet-up at the coffee shop. Figured it was a good way to ingratiate myself, and you did seem a bit surprised I wasn’t a bigger supporter.”
He chuckled.
Her heart squeezed. The sound was as warm and inviting as logs popping on a fire.
“I understand. You’ll have even more to share later. I’ll look forward to it. I’m wondering if maybe we should pull an all-nighter. We can watch the lighthouse from my office. Maybe we need a little more surveillance to catch our culprit?”
Feeling his steady gaze, she turned away. She didn’t want to give away too much of her turmoil. She hadn’t come back to rekindle anything. He stoked the embers inside her back into flames. With more alone time, she might do something desperate. Like throw herself in his arms again ala their first kiss. He was giving her a chance. “Yes. Thanks. I’d love that. I’d better get going or I’ll be late to meet Seth.”
She pulled back her shoulders and fumbled with the seatbelt. She had returned to claim her inheritance. Nothing was settled. Would it be? Finally, her icy fingers pressed the button and released her. She hopped out of the car and didn’t look back, leaving a trail of wet shoe prints and taking only her memories.
* * *
Christopher did the gentlemanly thing and let her get out of the car and leave him first.
He hated doing that. But it was inevitable since he was incapable of walking away from her. They had plans to meet up later. He sighed and tapped the steering wheel, tracking her progress inside the hotel.
Would she have turned him down if he asked her on a proper date? He couldn’t remember the last time they dressed up and shared a meal in public. She loved the ritual of dates, carefully selecting her outfit and styling herself. And he loved how every tiny movement was imbued with extra flirtatious behavior. With nothing and no one else to distract their attention away from each other, they had often gone to dinner at seven and stayed until closing. He missed that.
The painful truth he couldn’t escape was that he hadn’t known she wanted to leave until too late. If he had understood every moment was final, he would have done things differently. He would have held her closer, kissed her longer, and told her everything. Except, I wouldn’t. He’d promised her father he’d keep his silence about the business.
At least they avoided discussing the final details of settling the estate. And while he might miss her company, he couldn’t be mad at her destination. Meeting up with Seth, she could encourage him. The pair could create something new, big, and inventive. Each had a talent for seeing the possibilities in any given situation. Ashley’s boundless imagination always shocked and delighted. Christopher would approach the same scenario with a sense of dread and despair. She always found a spark of something exciting and positive. Over the years, she’d given him hope countless times.
Today, he’d almost lost her for good.
He gripped the steering wheel tight, staring through the insect-crusted windshield in the direction she’d gone. The smear of bug guts blocked any movement in the distance. At the moment, he’d swear he had x-ray vision thanks to the adrenaline rushing through his veins. She could have been killed. All because she was looking for a ghost she had invented and convinced herself was real.
Steve Prim believed her, had rescued her, and the while he’d probably stared at her with those adoring eyes. Christopher curled his fingers into fists. Steve had a very punchable face. Naturally, Steve would be the one to save the day and make Christopher the bad guy. He groaned. He really hated the Prims.
Curling his upper lip, Christopher couldn’t be mad at Steve. He endured a lot with his overbearing father. While the local business leaders might balk at Christopher’s methods, he proved his dedication to the region and never resorted to harsh words. Carl Prim communicated to his son through thinly veiled threats and emotional abuse. His ugly words were public. How bad was it in private? It was a miracle Steve wasn’t aggressive. But, also, he’d never be out from under the man’s thumb.
Surely Ashley could see that? Of all the romantic choices in town, Christopher remained the best option. Kind, hard-working, caring, he added the qualities of loyal, steadfast, and true as a husband. He couldn’t tell her more of his dedication without hurting her.
He remained trapped in an impossible situation, only for the Steves and Zachs of the world to swoop in and steal the girl. And then, as if he willed it, his peace was broken. In the cupholder, his phone rang, the name maybe Steve Prim flashing.
Christopher would admit to a small, petty pleasure in not adding Steve to his cell phone contact list. This call was forwarded from his desk. He was surprised he’d had this much peace. He grabbed the phone and slid his thumb over the lock screen. “Hello?”
“Hey? Is Ashley with you?” Steve said through heavy breaths.
“No.” Christopher frowned. She was on her way to see Seth. He might have entertained the idea that she would bump into Steve or Zach, and years of friendship might develop into something flirtatious. But she wouldn’t lie to his face about where she was heading. “Why? What’s going on?”
“She fell into the lake, and I took her to the hospital to get checked out. And she’s not here. I left and came back, and she’s gone.”
“She’s an adult, Steve. She can check herself out if she’s physically able.”
“I know, I know. It’s just. That wasn’t the… She was supposed to wait.”
For what? Steve rescued her and gave her a ride to get cleared by a doctor. She had no obligation beyond her sincere gratitude. What more was he expecting? That she’d feel so appreciative she’d fall in love with him? Christopher curled his upper lip, preparing to snarl.
“The front desk saw you,” Steve said. “Or someone who looked like you. Oh, my word. Do you think she was kidnapped?”
“What?” Christopher shook his head. “Why would she be kidnapped?”
“Why would she leave?” Steve screeched.
Christopher pulled the phone from his ringing ear and took a deep breath. He pressed the cell to his ear again. “She is fine. She was with me. I picked her up. But she’s not with me at the moment. She had someplace to be. She’s getting coffee with a friend.”
“That’s a relief. I’m glad she’s okay,” Steve said.
The ring of sincerity in his tone struck Christopher. Steve wasn’t the smartest guy, but he was kind. For the first time, Christopher wondered if he should do something to help. His enemy wasn’t Steve as much as Carl.
The man demanded top dollar from Inn guests for a subpar experience. Christopher had fought for improvements and better prices. But Carl knew that as long as Christopher didn’t take the initiative to offer his own cruising options, the Inn would remain a steadfast partner.
Unless I hire Steve? Ashley wouldn’t balk. She might encourage the idea. Christopher could picture her bright smile. Was her happiness enough to override the frustration inherent in dealing with Steve as an employee? The man was little more than a lackey. Carl browbeat his son into a pulp. Could Steve step up once he was free of his old man?
“Let me handle this,” a gruff voice yelled on the other end of the phone. “You always mess things up. You mishandled this whole situation.”
Christopher pulled the cell away from his ear. The sharp words cut through the nice image like a serrated blade, a crude hacking of the surface.
Carl wasn’t even on the call, and he was loud enough for the listener to cringe.
Christopher didn’t particularly want to hear more. “She’s fine. I’ll handle her bills. Thanks for your help.” He ended the call. He didn’t want to stay on the line and deal with Carl. Although, he did feel a twinge of guilt for subjecting Steve to that prospect.
What was there to mishandle ? Steve’s outlandish assumption, that Ashley was kidnapped, bothered Christopher. The situation had been serious enough without adding in foul play. She could have been killed. He’d assured them both that the lighthouse accident was an inevitable mishap. The building should have been torn down or fixed up years ago. He wasn’t certain. Had someone tried to kill her?
The more he thought about the entire calamity, from explosion to rescue, the worse he felt. Dread coiled around him, weighing down his arms with old iron chains. No, he wouldn’t let Carl’s sourness turn his mind. Carl was the worst parent in town.
Xavier had been hard to please. Ashley didn’t understand how impossibly high the standards her father held himself to were only lowered slightly for her. But he had never been cruel. He’d been indulgent for too long and had put his foot down when he had no other choice. Pride had prevented him from being honest. Their relationship suffered.
Christopher’s temples throbbed, and the car walls closed in. The tight quarters were cramped. He’d rather not sit in a tight box with his work calls—and thus problems—forwarded to him. If he had issues, he’d rather deal with them from the comfort of his office.
Christopher slid out from the driver’s seat with a harumph, locked the car, and crossed toward the front entrance.
“Mr. Lewis,” a gruff voice called. “A moment.”
Carrying a rake and wearing coveralls, the groundskeeper scowled, the expression just perceptible through the silver beard. He looked formidable and fierce. However, anyone who knew the man was aware he only terrorized weeds. “Good afternoon, Mr. Willie. Did you block off the island?”
“Little good a rope will do.” Mr. Willie snorted. “Dismantle the bridge. You must take serious action to deter lookie-loos. Someone getting injured is a big problem.”
Mr. Willie was, as usual, one hundred percent correct. But Christopher wasn’t dealing in logic at the moment. He was working with his wife. After we catch the villain . “Yes, I’ll consider the suggestion. Any luck with the lifeguard chair?”
“It’s dry. I’ve placed it back into position. Not that anyone is swimming this early in the season.” Mr. Willie raised a hand to cover his mouth. “Perhaps you can give Mrs. Hale-Lewis chores that don’t involve the grounds?”
The words were muffled but not enough to lessen the impact of hearing her referred to by her married name. Christopher pressed the heel of his right palm against his pounding heart. “Of course.”
Mr. Willie tipped his head and strode back the way he’d come.
Christopher continued toward the entrance, nodding and smiling at the bellhops and valets as he strolled inside his kingdom. He’d grown up on the grounds and never imagined anywhere could come closer to heaven on earth. He’d left for college and returned as soon as he could. She’d wanted to keep traveling. He’d never been enough for her, and neither had Loon Lake. What changed? Was she here because she came to appreciate what she’d had? Or because she had nowhere else to go?
He wanted this to be her choice.
Inside the lobby, the Inn was buzzing with conversations and activity.
Christopher made eye contact with each staff member standing behind the registration desk as he passed. He reached the bottom of the stairs before anyone stopped him.
Mr. Brixen stood in his path. “Mr. Lewis, may I have a word, sir?” The concierge darted his eyes and nodded toward the front office.
“Of course,” Christopher said brightly, following the man. He was always aware of being present and pleasant when in the Inn’s public spaces and the community in general. Only in the attic could he be himself. Xavier had taught him the importance of keeping a calm countenance.
Christopher stepped inside the office and shut the door. “What’s the problem?” he asked under his breath, careful and aware as always of ears everywhere.
Mr. Brixen tapped on his cell phone and extended it. “Look at this. It’s only been picked up locally. But this isn’t the sort of thing you want getting out.”
Christopher raised the phone, squinting at the screen. A webpage with the bold headline CURSED?! appeared over his senior yearbook photo. He frowned. Using the worst possible publicly available image was a low blow, even for Zach Jenkins on his Loon Lake conspiracy blog, The Jenkins Report. He scanned the text, swallowing his sigh. The text mentioned some of Ashley’s recent shenanigans, leaning into the ghost angle she was so fond of but twisting it from a friendly specter into a malevolent poltergeist.
Luckily, the post didn’t include today’s explosion. But it mentioned that access to the island was restricted recently. Mr. Willie wouldn’t like that; it might spur some of the youths to sneak onto the island and poke around the rubble, potentially hurting themselves.
“Thanks for bringing this to my attention. I think I owe the author a visit. I don’t want this getting any traction,” Christopher said.
“Very good.” Mr. Brixen wiped a hand over his brow.
“If that’s all?” Christopher asked gently. He didn’t like the relief evident on his employee’s face. Was he scary? Would Ashley be a better boss? More approachable?
“Did Mrs. Hale-Lewis deliver your envelope? I gave it to her first thing.”
Christopher frowned. “No, but it’s been a chaotic day. I’ll ask her about it.”
Mr. Brixen nodded.
Christopher left, taking the stairs two at a time. Up and down, in and out. He was running in circles. Since she’d come back, he hadn’t known rest or peace. He would love to stay in the office and ignore the latest round of problems. But that wasn’t his style.
What envelope could be so important that Mr. Brixen asked Ashley to hand-deliver? Why hadn’t she? Hotel Lavande?
He scrubbed a hand over his face as he breathed shallowly, heading back to his car and jogging across the front drive. Mr. Brixen would instantly know the contents were important. Would Ashley? Why hadn’t she given him the envelope?
He couldn’t worry about the package now or try to read into her inaction. He’d push it to the side until their meeting later. He needed focus.
When he had something to do that he’d rather not, he had to deal with the issue as soon as possible. And there was nothing and no one he would rather avoid than Zach Jenkins. But the time had come for a face-to-face meeting. He wasn’t about to back down.