Epilogue
I n the days following the rescue, Christopher would have given her anything.
With no more secrets between either them or the town, he had never felt more secure. He’d worked so hard his whole life to find home. He hadn’t realized until almost too late that he’d tied his soul to a person, not a place.
He would have thrown her another wedding to symbolize their fresh start. He would have taken her on their long overdue honeymoon. Hotel Lavande would be a wonderful vacation. He would have agreed to a complete renovation of their home in the old stables.
Instead, she asked for the one thing he really didn’t want to do.
“You ready?” she asked.
He lifted his head and glanced to his left, folding the latest issue of Seth Boyd’s local newspaper. “I guess.”
On a warm day, a week after the excitement with the Prims, they stood outside the cemetery gate with an unimpeded view of the resort and lake below. She insisted on running the gauntlet.
“Anything interesting in the special edition?” she neared, tugging the paper from under his arm.
He liked how they’d slipped back into reaching for each other, touching each other like they had every right. Because they did. He hadn’t understood the extent to which she was the other half of his soul until he’d almost lost her for good.
She unfolded the paper and scanned the first sheet. “Greed? Or ghost?” She read the headline out loud.
He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “As you might expect, Zach has the byline for that one.”
She met Christopher’s gaze. “And you don’t mind?”
“No, I don’t. We found the dangerous culprits. I’m okay with a benevolent spirit floating around.”
She chuckled and turned her attention back to the paper.
He truly wasn’t bugged about her continued belief in a paranormal being. And in the days that followed the Prims’ capture, he believed in it too. The lighthouse haunt had spared the life of the dearest person in the world to him during the explosion. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was the specter of a man who was, in his death, unable to abandon her the way he had in life. Xavier and Ashley could never mend their relationship in this world. But Christopher had hope for them reuniting in the next. He was glad for his second chance.
“Another Soupy sighting,” she said, shaking her head. “Seth is really working the paranormal angle. He’s tying my ghost into the myth.”
“Are you disappointed he isn’t going the children’s book route?”
“No,” she sighed heavily. “I understand he wants to reach a different audience. He isn’t looking to entertain but to educate. He’s determined to get national recognition for Soupy. I can respect that.”
Christopher chuckled, the laugh low and deep, coming from the inside out. “No one could relate more than you.”
“What do you think? Isn’t this the sort of nonsense you’ve tried to steer away from?” She arched a brow in mock reproach.
“As long as we don’t get treasure hunters again, we’ll be fine. Besides, we have enough to worry about for next year’s quasquicentennial celebration. In ten months, we have to be fully up and running, including the tour boat business.”
The Prims had fallen into bankruptcy, alerting no one to their changed circumstances. No sooner had they been hauled to a more secure facility while awaiting arraignment than the news broke. A representative from the bank in Ashland emptied the building of anything they could sell—mostly computers and technology, the boats deemed worthless and not worth scrap—and boarded up the business.
Following the Prims’ arrest and the full exoneration of Zach and Lonnie, Ashley brokered the start of peace talks between Christopher and the business owners. He agreed to step down from some of his more stringent requirements. They promised to work together for the good of all.
He needed their support.
Loon Lake thrived thanks to its symbiotic relationships. Once word reached town about the Prims’ business, Zach knocked on the door of the Inn for a discussion about next steps.
No one in the chamber of commerce wanted to shoulder the burden of another full-time business, especially not one in such dire straits. Christopher had a potential lead, a peer who had vacationed at the Inn in childhood and since struck it rich with a tech start-up. The man was interested. With any luck, the man would visit in the next few weeks to assess the business. Christopher hoped the community would embrace the not-so-newcomer for the success of all.
Ashley still pushed the dinner cruise idea hard.
Christopher would not attach any strings to the new owner’s purchase. He wanted peace and prosperity. But he had learned the hard way: he couldn’t control everything. He was the master of his own responses. That was it.
“Maybe you should invest in Seth’s submarine idea,” she said. “With a clear view of the bottom of the lake, you’d cast doubt on discovering treasure.”
“Unfortunately, our offshoot of the lake is the murkiest body of freshwater in the nation. The submarine will only fuel more speculation about what can’t be seen. I’m sticking with a full redesign of the lighthouse and island. Rebuilt with plenty of room for observation though. I’ve given up on the private suite. I want a lot of people to visit so no one will think treasure is buried anywhere on the tiny patch of land.” He turned to her and smiled.
“What’s that look for?”
“It’s just…” He took a full breath. His limbs were loose and light. He had no worries for the first time in ten years. “We’re really partners now.”
“I know. I love it.” Her eyes twinkled, and the corners of her mouth lifted in her lopsided grin. “Are you stretched and ready?” She crossed one arm in front of the other before stretching both arms over her head and twisting side to side.
Eyeing her, he wondered if she was ready for their morning excursion. It had been her suggestion. She was overdressed under the already warm sun and in the unusually humid air. Wearing a sweatshirt and capri leggings, she’d overheat the minute she reached the bottom of the hill.
He didn’t point that out. He was a gentleman. But not so much of a chivalrous one that he wouldn’t take advantage of a situation to win.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Run the gauntlet?” She shrugged her shoulders and swung her arms like a helicopter, twisting from one side to the other. “I never back down from a challenge. I’m surprised Zach agreed to let you inside.”
“Barely,” Christopher mumbled. “But this is probably our last chance before the race is rebranded the Soupy Fun Run for next year’s celebrations.”
“As long as I beat you, I’ll still be the undisputed and forever winner.”
“In your dreams.”
She winked.
“On your marks,” Mr. Willie called.
Christopher positioned himself a few inches from his wife, hoping to distract her with the scent of the aftershave she loved. A couple seconds head start wasn’t much, but he’d take every advantage he could against his spry spouse. He forgot to factor in his reaction to her nearness.
From the corner of her gaze, he studied the flutter at the base of her throat, her long lashes on her heavy lids. Her scent perfumed the air with a mixture of sun-warmed cotton and sugar from their lazy breakfast in bed. He wouldn’t mind skipping the race. He opened his mouth.
“Get set, GO.” Mr. Willie blew a whistle.
Christopher jerked and raced down the hill, full tilt.
But she was agile and fast, blurring past him at top speed. He gave her a head start. If he remembered correctly, she needed a lactose pill before downing the milkshake. She’d forgotten to take one. Or, if she had, she’d kept her actions secret.
He’d let her have a few mysteries. He was coming around to the idea of living his life and letting others run theirs. He hadn’t even asked the potential new owner of the old sawmill for a five-year plan. News of the passing of the owner of the old sawmill had hit him harder than he’d imagined.
After losing Xavier, death was no longer an abstract concept to Christopher or Ashley. He hoped the heir had had a chance for a decent farewell. He glanced at the bench as he ran past, almost imagining, for a second, he spotted his father-in-law sitting and smiling at him.
He gave his head a shake. She wouldn’t believe his sincerity if he told her. But the sighting warmed him from the inside out. And that was progress. Along with accepting her idea for murder mystery weekends.
He studied the island as he neared the bottom of the hill. The lighthouse folly would be rebuilt to aid the Soupy story. Everyone should have a piece of Loon Lake. Everyone should be as happy as he was.
As long as the ghosts—and treasure—remained hidden.