Lakeside Reunion (14 page)

“The dude's messed up. Until his wife realizes she can't be his punching bag for the rest of her life, there's nothing you can do to change it.”

Stephen's phone rang, the jarring sound echoing inside his skull. He grabbed the receiver to stop the obtrusive noise. “Chase.”

Chief Laughton's voice growled in his ear. “My office. Pronto. If Kendall's there, grab his sorry hide, too.”

“Will do, Chief.”

Stephen replaced the receiver in the cradle. “We've been summoned to the big man's office.”

“Me, too?”

“You, too. Let's go.”

Stephen rapped on the chief's open door. Without looking up, he waved them in.

“What's up?”

Chief Laughton leaned back in his chair and cradled his head the same way Stephen had a few moments ago. “Got a call from Moose Run P.D. Seems Hank Earle got wind of our investigation and hightailed it out of there.”

The charred coffee Stephen downed upon returning to the station soured in his stomach. “Where is he now, sir?”

The chief held up his hands, palms to the ceiling. “Current location unknown. A BOLO has been issued. Right now, Earle is under the radar.”

L
indsey scowled at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The emerald strapless gown clung to her slim figure. She ran a finger along the wide black band that edged the sweetheart neckline and tugged on the bodice.

“Oh, honey, you are a vision.” Mom sat on the cedar chest at the end of Lindsey's bed.

“I look like a satin-covered stick.” Lindsey ran her hands over her hips.

“Willowy. I love your hair. Your neck looks even more graceful.” Mom twirled her finger through one of Lindsey's loose ringlets.

“Remember when I told you I had the perfect necklace to match your dress?” Mom withdrew a rectangular black velvet jeweler's box from behind her back. “Your father bought these for me the day you were born. He said they matched your eyes. I want you to have them.”

Lindsey took the box and opened it with a creak. On a bed of aged ivory satin lay a white-gold pendant with a heart-shaped emerald and matching heart-shaped dangle earrings. “Oh, Mom. Seriously? They're gorgeous, but I couldn't possibly keep them. They were a gift from Dad.”

Mom grabbed one of Lindsey's hands and squeezed. “A reminder of him close to your heart.”

Her throat swallowed words too large to speak. Mom wasn't offering her only a necklace, but also a piece of her father. She removed the necklace, turned back to the mirror and hooked it in place. The emerald lay in the hollow of her throat and glistened in the light. She touched the stone.

The doorbell rang.

Her stomach fluttered. Lindsey did a quick scan in the mirror. She gave the bodice a final tug and reached for the black pashmina evening wrap and satin handbag she borrowed from Aunt Claire. Sliding her feet into the black satin peep-toe heels found on clearance, she faced Mom. “Are you sure I look okay?”

“You're gorgeous. Stephen won't be able to keep his eyes off you. Or was that the point?”

“Don't get any ideas. We're going as friends. Nothing more.”

“If you say so.” Mom winked.

“I need to go. I'll send Max up to help you down the stairs.” She kissed Mom's cheek and left the room.

She lifted the hem of her dress so it wouldn't get caught in her heels on the way down the stairs. She didn't want to leave Stephen waiting. At least not too long.

Halfway down, she saw Stephen standing in the foyer with his hands in his pockets.

Her mouth went dry.

She took a quick minute to study him wearing a black tuxedo with a white shirt, black tie and matching black vest.

Still talking to Max, he turned and didn't complete his sentence. The warmth in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

For a split second, her imagination pushed aside common sense. Instead of the green gown, she was dressed in white, walking down the aisle on her father's arm.

But she wasn't in white. Her father wasn't here. And Stephen wasn't waiting to marry her. She refused to let reality spoil her evening.

Stephen stepped forward and took her hand. He brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You look incredible.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, even flicked his gaze over her shoulder to Max, but stayed silent.

“Thanks. You clean up nicely yourself.”

“Max, grab my camera off the table and take their picture,” Mom hollered from the top of the steps.

“Mom, we're not going to the prom.”

“One picture.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Sorry, do you mind?”

He raised an eyebrow and gave her that dazzling half smile. “With you dressed like that? Are you kidding?”

Warmth rushed through her veins as Stephen drew her close. Once the picture was taken and they said their goodbyes, Stephen held the door.

Lindsey stepped outside and pulled her wrap tighter. He took her elbow and led her to his SUV.

“Things seem better with Max.”

She told him about meeting her mom and Max at Cuppa Josie's. “Since then, he, Josie and her daughter, Hannah, have been to dinner a couple of times. I'm accepting Mom has a new man in her life.”

Stephen turned off the highway onto a road that sliced through the national forest. Stately pines tented over them, blocking out the sighing sunlight. Lindsey clenched the ends of her wrap between her fists. She had forgotten where the gala was held each year.

The trees gave way to a clearing that hugged the lake. Lakeside Lodge came into view, tiny as one of Ty's Legos. The Old English Tudor-style building grew as Stephen wound
his way along the paved semicircle drive and stopped at the wide double doors.

Lindsey closed her eyes and allowed locked-away memories from past celebrations flicker through her head like a silent movie. Birthday cake for breakfast. Making wishes that always seemed to come true. Arm-in-arm walks around the lake.

“Lindsey? Are you okay?” Stephen cut the engine and turned to her.

She released a sigh and nodded. “I forgot the gala was being held at the Lodge.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Dad brought me here every year for breakfast. On my birthday.”

He grabbed her hand. “I'm sorry. I forgot all about that. Would you like to leave?”

“We can't leave.”

“Sure we can.”

“You'd do that for me?”

“Of course.” He pulled his hand away and started the engine.

She laid a hand on his arm. “No, let's stay. I can't avoid all the places I used to go with him. Besides, I can't really wear this dress to check in guests at the inn.”

“Bet you'd always be full if you did.” Stephen gave her a wolfish grin that slammed her heart against her rib cage. He shut off the engine and opened his door, allowing the warmth to escape. Opening her door, he took her hand to help her step down.

A red-vested valet parking attendant took Stephen's keys and gave him a ticket that he shoved in his pocket. A uniformed doorman opened the door as they stepped onto the veranda, greeting them as he held open the door.

The great room greeted her like an old friend with its
curved cathedral ceiling, walls paneled with rich oiled planks and gleaming wooden floor. A set of French doors framed in stone opened onto a deck overhanging the water. Long windows faced the lake. Scarlet and lavender faded into amber as the setting sun melted like an orange Popsicle across the expansive black lake.

Clinking of glasses mingled with laughter and talking throughout the room. Tuxedo-clad men and women dressed in gowns in every color of the rainbow moved between the circular tables covered in white linen tablecloths.

Stephen and Lindsey found their table. Lindsey peeked at the other name cards, pleased to see Oliver Kendall and his wife, Amy, would be sitting with them. Amy was a couple of years older, but they had been in marching band together.

“Would you like to sit? Or mingle?”

“We can mingle, if you want. I see a lot of familiar faces.” She pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping the butterflies had more to do with the man at her side and not the evening ahead.

“I'm sure those familiar faces would love to say hi.”

That's what she was afraid of.

For the next half hour Lindsey chatted with many of her dad's old buddies from the force. They engulfed her in bear hugs, asked about her job, her mom's recovery and usually ended with a funny story about her dad. She smiled until her cheeks ached. Not to mention her heart. Maybe someday she'd get to the point where she could laugh and tell her own stories, but not yet. And not today. Not here.

Their wives dragged her away from Stephen—her anchor in the crowd—over to the displayed scrapbooks of photos taken through the years: company picnics, baseball games, interaction with the Shelby Lake youth. They gushed over her dress, telling her over and over how much she looked like
her mother. She asked about their children and grandchildren while searching the crowd for Stephen.

Someone cupped her elbows from behind and whispered in her ear, “Ready to sit down? They're going to start serving dinner.”

Lindsey turned and looped her hand around Stephen's elbow. “Yes,” she said a little too quickly.

He squeezed her hand and pierced her heart with a gentle smile. “Would you rather get some fresh air?”

She shook her head. “My feet could use a break.”

He guided her back to their table where two chairs remained empty. Theirs. Oliver and Amy sat next to her. At least she could chat with someone who had more to talk about than her dad.

Stephen held her chair and then introduced her to the two other couples at the table—fellow officers and their wives.

Waiters served the first course—mixed greens with cranberries and walnuts. Lindsey spent more time talking to Amy than eating. Her barely touched salad was replaced with a choice-cut filet mignon, herbed red potatoes and asparagus spears drizzled with a cream sauce. She managed to eat half of her food before setting her fork across her plate, her appetite disappearing with the dusk.

She tried to focus on a cute story Amy was telling about her infant daughter, but every time Stephen moved, his arm brushed hers. Goose bumps whispered across her skin. She'd have to be dead not to be affected by his nearness. She enjoyed hearing his rich tenor laugh. And the way he constantly checked on her, making sure she was comfortable, he was the perfect gentleman.

Absolutely perfect.

Amy's mouth continued to move, but Lindsey tuned out her words. Her senses heightened when Stephen pushed his plate away, leaned back in his chair and casually loped his
arm behind her shoulders. Did he realize he was caressing the curve of her shoulder? Or was it one of those things people did without realizing it? For a second she enjoyed his rough, yet tender, fingers on her bare skin. She stifled a shiver.

Okay, she needed to put some distance between them before she humiliated herself by sliding off her chair into a puddle. She snatched her satin clutch off the table and skidded her chair back. “Excuse me, I'm going to the ladies' room for a minute.”

She turned and nearly collided with a waiter carrying a tray of desserts. “Sorry. Excuse me.” She wove her way around the tables and practically sprinted to the ladies' room. She dropped in an upholstered chair in shades of rose and buried her face in her hands.

Soft classical music piped in through hidden speakers. She kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the plush burgundy carpet.

What was she doing here? Why did she say yes to Stephen, knowing full well that being around the officers would unlock that box of memories she kept tucked away and took out only once in a while? And with Stephen. Of all people. The man who broke her heart by marrying someone else.

But he wasn't married any longer. Could this be their second chance? Or was it simply a fairy-tale night and the spell would be broken at midnight?

 

Stephen was no expert, but he didn't think women took more than a few minutes in the ladies' room. He glanced at Lindsey's untouched chocolate mousse and back at his own empty plate. He pulled his napkin off his lap and laid it beside his plate. “Excuse me a minute.”

He headed for the ladies' room and paced outside the door with his hands shoved in his pockets. He was about to go back to the table and ask Amy to check on Lindsey when the door
opened. Lindsey's wide-eyed expression told him she didn't expect to see him standing there.

“Stephen, what's wrong?” She glanced at him and then looked away.

“Nothing. I was concerned when you didn't come back right away. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She nodded, but gazed at something over his shoulder. Why wouldn't she look at him?

He tipped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Want to get some fresh air?”

“My wrap is at the table.”

“Wait here and I'll get it.”

At their table, he grabbed her wrap. Oliver gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Leaving already, dude?”

“No, Lindsey needs some air. It's been a little intense for her. Being around all her dad's friends and all, you know.”

“Yeah, I get it. If she needs someone to talk to, I'm sure Amy won't mind.”

“Thanks, I'll mention it. I'd better get back to her.”

He found Lindsey where he had left her and wrapped the black shawl around her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They exited out the side door, onto the deck and down the stairs.

Small ground lights marked the pathway, illuminating a trail around the lake. A chipmunk skittered in front of them. On one of the limbs above them, an owl hooted. A flapping of wings caused Lindsey to edge closer to him, not that he minded.

Stephen took Lindsey's hand and kept his steps measured so she could walk at a comfortable pace without breaking her neck in those heels. Dried leaves crunched beneath their feet. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Whatever sent you running for the ladies' room.”

“I didn't run.”

A flock of snow geese flew overhead, their high-pitched honking breaking the silence. “Okay, so you didn't run. Being here has been a little rough, hasn't it?”

“A little. Everyone wants to tell Thomas Porter stories. They think I want to hear them, too.” Lindsey stopped and pulled her wrap tighter across her shoulders. She picked up a stone and tossed it into the lake. Ripples bounced across the satin finish of the surface.

“Don't you?”

“They hurt. I don't want the stories. I want my dad.”

“I know. At least you have great memories.”

“It's not the same.”

Stephen stared at the sky. Stars twinkled, giving pinprick glimpses of Heaven. Light filtering in the darkness. “Not talking about him won't ease the hurt, Linds. You can't hide him in a box to keep the pain away. Someday you'll be able to tell your own stories without your heart feeling like it's being split with a meat cleaver.”

“Nice image.”