Waking Up To Love (Lakeside Porches Book 4) (10 page)

“You mean alcohol? And pot?” At Bridey’s nod, Lyssa asked, “And you’re saying Rand is obsessed with money and status?”

Bridey’s cool, soft fingers stroked her cheek, and Lyssa gulped. A ring—a large emerald, circled with diamonds—flashed on Bridey’s index finger.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Bridey held her hand for Lyssa to study the ring.

When Lyssa touched the emerald, a current of happiness and peace flowed through her.

“Be careful what you choose,” Bridey whispered before she vanished.

The porch door opened with a bang, and Lyssa shot to her feet. Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered.

Shivering in the cold draft from the open door, Lyssa padded onto the porch and gazed at the moon-washed decking and the silvery lake. No one was out here with her.

Back in the living room, the wall was empty where she’d imagined seeing a grandfather clock and a risqué grandmother.

In the kitchen, the clock on the microwave read 2:07.
I’ll never eat Ralphs’ onion rings again.

She fixed a mug of chamomile tea and carried it into the bedroom. Moonlight streamed through the French door. Hunkered next to it was the last packing box, the one marked ‘Miscellaneous.’

She folded back the flaps. Justin had said Kyle wanted to send some things she’d left behind at Pennington House. There, on top, were her hiking shoes, the ones she’d ruined on the cliff path when the squall interrupted her last cliff walk with Kyle.

She lifted one shoe out of the box. Padraig had cleaned and conditioned the leather.
Sweet of him
. She touched it all over, loving how soft and firm the leather was. The scrapes where she’d slid down the stone steps were just faint patches. The sole had not a trace of dirt or gravel or grass or salt spray.

She inhaled the smell of leather and shoe oil. And maybe a trace of rain off the Atlantic. And the scent left by Kyle’s strong, square hands as he’d nestled the shoe in the box. She hugged the boot to her chest and let a few tears fall before reaching back into the box.

Just visible under its mate was a letter.

“Manda’s almost ready,” Joel said. “Can I help you find something?”

Did his voice have a menacing undertone?
Do I look like I’m casing the joint?

“Hi, Joel.” She stepped away from an ebony chest with a grouping of framed family photos arranged on top. “Is your grandmother Bridey in any of these pictures?”

“No, but I have a couple that my mother kept.” He withdrew a small album from a nearby bookcase. “Why do you ask?”

“I had a strange dream last night. There was a woman in a green silk dress—long and risqué. Her eyes were like Manda’s. She’d done her hair, strawberry blond, in a French twist with a few ringlets. Very chic, very beautiful.” Lyssa held up her right index finger. “And a ring on this finger, a huge emerald circled with diamonds.”

“The emerald ring doesn’t fit anything I remember.” He held out the album so both of them could see. “This is Bridey at my parents’ wedding.” He pointed to a slender, sophisticated woman with sculpted cheekbones and reddish blond curls piled on top of her head. She wore a form-fitting, mid-calf dress of cobalt silk.

“She always smelled of roses and lavender,” Joel said, and Lyssa gasped. “That boa tossed over her shoulders is ostrich feathers, if you’re wondering.”

“She was gorgeous.” Lyssa looked sideways at Joel. “And sexy.”

“Very. Here’s another, taken just before she died.” This time Bridey wore the green silk gown from Lyssa’s dream, but with a matching cropped jacket that buttoned to her throat. There was no evidence of Irish lace or boobs on display. Her hair was fashioned in a French twist with ringlets caressing her cheekbones. Her engagement ring was a huge diamond solitaire, and, on her right hand, she wore a cocktail ring of diamonds and sapphires. No emerald, even though her ensemble was green.

“Was sapphire her signature stone?”

“Yes, to match her eyes.”

“What was the occasion for the green dress, Joel? Do you remember?”

“Some charity benefit in Rochester, I think. My grandfather had died a few years before. I don’t know the people with her in the picture.”

“Would I have seen this photo somewhere else, maybe at Justin’s?”

“No, that’s the only print. Do you recognize her?”

“That’s the woman in my dream. Same hair, and the green dress. Except last night, it didn’t have a jacket, and there was just the emerald ring on her right hand.”

Joel closed the album with a soft thud.

“What did she say to you, Lyssa?” Joel’s baritone voice compelled her attention.

“It-It was personal.”

His gray-green eyes mesmerized her. “Best listen.”

Manda unlocked the Volvo for them, and Lyssa fastened herself into the passenger’s seat. “Thanks for driving.”

“So what were you and Joel talking about?”

“Shoot, I forgot to ask him if he wants to sell his car.”

“He does. We can talk to him when we get back.” At the bottom of Lakeside Terrace, she turned right. “He looked like he was giving you brotherly advice.”

“He showed me a couple pictures of Bridey.”

“Uh-oh. Justin spooked you.”

“Yes.”

“He likes to do that to people. He adored Bridey. Now you’re afraid you’re going to have an encounter with her, aren’t you?”

Just after the street curved around the marina and before it merged with Park Road, Lyssa spotted Porches Inn on tiny Marina Lane. It had been a lovely place for her to lay her troubled jet-lagged head for a few nights.

“Lyssa?”

“In fact, I did have an encounter with Bridey. Last night.”

“Seriously?”

“I thought it might have been Bridey, so I asked Joel if he had pictures of her.”

“She was a knockout, wasn’t she? So, was it her?”

“Yes. She looked exactly like she did in one of the pictures, wearing the same emerald gown she’d worn for a charity event.”

“Tell me the dream. Start with where you were sleeping.”

“Why?”

“Just . . . you’ll see.”

“I was sleeping on the sofa, and in the dream, Joel’s grandfather clock was right by the door.”

“That’s where he had it when he lived there. The same thing happened to me the one and only time I slept on Joel’s sofa.”

“You had a weird dream, too?”

“An important one.”

“Tell me.”

“What happened was I had just moved into the studio on the first floor, and we had a horrible thunderstorm and there weren’t any shades for the windows—just some cute shutters that only covered the bottom half of the windows. You know how terrified I am of lightning.”

At Lyssa’s nod, Manda continued. “Joel knew that, and he made me come upstairs and sleep on his sofa, because his living room has those heavy drapes. Anyway, all night long I dreamed I was having hot stormy sex with Joel.”

“
Dreamed
it?” Lyssa twisted on the seat so she could see Manda’s face. “You expect me to believe you were in his apartment
dreaming
about hot sex with him? I believe you were having it, Manda.”

“Swear to God. Joel did not lay a hand on me until after we were married. Well, except for some very nice kissing and a little—”

“TMI, Manda.” Lyssa covered her ears and looked out her window. They cruised east on Park Road, which spanned the north end of Chestnut Lake. Along the lakeshore, runners outnumbered bicyclists on the two-mile willow-lined path. Lyssa smiled as a brisk wind off the water slapped the willow fronds against the helmets of the cyclists. When Manda tapped her elbow, she tuned in again.

“Joel said his sponsor and Justin would both have killed him if he’d had sex with me before I was sober a year. Actually, for Justin it was just until I graduated from Tompkins College, but he was fierce about it.”

Like he was with Kyle?
“How did Joel feel about that?”

“Joel agreed. As a trustee of the college, he couldn’t afford to get involved with a student and, as a sober alcoholic, he wouldn’t jeopardize my sobriety.”

“And how did you feel about it?”

“I was pretty traumatized from an experience that I don’t want to talk about right now. So I told people I was ‘off men for life.’ And I thought I was, until I got to know Joel. It was better for me that he was so hands-off with me, but for a while he was so proper, I thought he wasn’t attracted to me.”

Just like Kyle and me.
“Wait. You were traumatized, but when you slept on Joel’s sofa, you dreamed all night about hot, stormy sex?”

“Yes, with Joel.”

“Did you ever have that dream again?”

“No, I didn’t need to.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it opened my mind to maybe having a serious relationship with Joel.”

“Ah.” Bridey got Manda to see she wanted Joel, in spite of everything that had gone before.
And got me to see . . .

“What? How did we get started on this dream thing?”

“I had a dream last night.” Lyssa felt dizzy. “Joel’s grandfather clock was there. And Bridey was there.” She gasped for air between each phrase. “When Joel showed me the second picture, it was exactly the woman in my dream. Same dress. Same hairstyle. Same woman.”

“Lyssa?”

Lyssa met her gaze.

“You’re hyperventilating.”

“Yeah.”

As they entered Seneca Falls, her sister glanced over for the hundredth time. “You okay?”

At Lyssa’s nod, Manda pointed to the Women’s Rights National Historic Site and said, “We should spend a day here this fall. Want to?”

“Let’s do it. How much farther are we driving today?”

“Maybe twenty minutes more. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Right. Your hands are clenched.”

“If I unclench them, I’ll start shaking.”

“Try breathing. Think about Gianessa and how she breathes away her tension.”

Lyssa closed her eyes and breathed.

When they entered the village of Aurora, ten miles down the eastern shore of Cayuga Lake, Lyssa delighted at the tree-shaded mansions and lush lawns. Her whole body relaxed, and she smiled widely at her sister. “It’s charming, isn’t it?” The bustling village was all redbrick shops and white-frame houses. “Is this well preserved, or is it restored?”

“Both, I think. It’s always been a pretty college town. Joel told me an alum of Wells College has contributed a lot to restoration and given a big boost to the economy.”

They parked in a small lot behind a dress shop. “We’ll have lunch across the street at the Aurora Inn, after we search for bargains at this fantastic little shop. There’s a big room with markdowns, and you never know what you’ll find.”

Lyssa found capris and summer-weight slacks, a kicky beige linen jacket that worked with all the pants, and a few dressy tops to carry her into fall. “The whole lot for under a hundred.”

“The Savvy Spender does it again.” Manda gave her a knuckle-bump.

“With a lot of help from her brilliant sister. Let’s drop the bags in the car and walk across to lunch.”

Picture windows in the inn’s dining room framed a hillside of green and gold fields that sloped down to the lake, placid on this calm day. The water was a deep blue, blending to azure near shore.

A few powerboats plied the water, one towing a skier who bounced on the wake. “No wind for the sailors,” Manda remarked.

“A couple of fishermen. What do they catch in the Finger Lakes?”

“Bass, I think. Perch, trout, some others.” She pointed to a rowboat a hundred yards from shore. “I think those two guys are just out for a beer and a day away.”

“Which lake is this?” Lyssa reached for her menu.

“Cayuga, the longest, almost forty miles. Cornell is at the south end.”

“I dated a guy from Cornell when I was in high school.”

“You didn’t.” Manda sounded scandalized.

“He was just a freshman. Arnie something. We knew each other from Olean High.”

“You dated Arnie Fraser? He was major. What happened to him?”

“He flunked out and went into the army, I think. That was around the time Mom and Dad were killed.”

Manda’s enthusiasm deflated with a soft puff of air.

“Sorry.”

“Do you think about them?” Manda asked.

Lyssa contemplated the lake. “I thank God I’m clean and sober, and I pray I won’t end up in a ravine, like they did.”

“I know, right?”

“Ready to order, ladies?” Their waiter, a fit dark-haired young man, wore a navy polo shirt and tan chinos. His white smile drew an answering smile from Lyssa.

“I’m going with the grilled shrimp salad, dressing on the side.”

“The same, and please don’t bring any rolls to the table.” Manda said. “Okay, Lyssa?”

“Agreed. And the check comes to me, please.” That put a happy smile back on her sister’s face.

When the waiter was out of hearing range, Manda leaned in. “I was sure you would flirt with him.”

“I was tempted, but I need to talk with you about the other thing that happened last night, right after the dream. And I’d rather not wait until you’re behind the wheel.”

Manda sat back. “What could be freakier than the encounter with Bridey?”

“A letter from Kyle.” Lyssa choked on the words.

“Oh. My. God.”