Chapter Two

  The inkling that something was off didn’t occur to Darcy Conti until she was an hour into her Tuesday morning. Sitting at the kitchen desk inside the Blueberry Point Lodge kitchen, ankles crossed, she stared at the schedule book. Beyond Friday, the calendar was blank.

  Darcy leafed through the coming weeks, into October and November—not peak season, but still—and noticed the erasure marks. Save for two big Saturday events—a retirement party in two weeks and the wedding during the first weekend in October—everything else was wiped clean. All October weekends had been booked and at least five weekend events lined up for November, too, when she’d looked before Labor Day weekend. She pushed away from the desk and walked to the foyer, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Ingrid?”

  Ingrid Callahan had yet to make an appearance. It wasn’t unusual that Darcy hadn’t seen her employer yet this morning, but the lingering scent of Henry’s cooking was absent, too. She counted on Henry frying an omelet or homemade hash browns for breakfast when she arrived each morning around seven thirty, something he still loved to do even after spending years as a cook at Del’s in town. Stranger still was the missing to-do list. Ingrid left it on the desk for Darcy daily without fail.

  No answer.

  Darcy poked her head out the front door. The blue Explorer parked near the coach house’s drive debunked the theory that Ingrid had run into town.

  She shut the door, the click of the latch echoing in the airy space, and she immediately heard padded footsteps upstairs. Ingrid was here after all. Darcy swiped at a small web between the balusters as she waited for Ingrid to appear on the landing.

  Instead, it was Henry, with his thick, snowy hair spiked in every direction. Dark shadows underlined his eyes. She usually saw him dressed for the day at this hour, not wrapped in a flannel bathrobe.

  “Good morning, Darcy. Ingrid’s not feeling well today.” He made no move to come all the way downstairs. Instead, he leaned against the wall as if standing took too much effort.

  “Oh no. Is there anything I can do?” Darcy searched Henry’s expression for a sign of how serious Ingrid’s illness might be. He didn’t look so well either. She paused. “I mean, aside from taking care of the cottages.”

  “We’ll be okay.” Then he snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. I forgot the list upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

  Darcy noticed he moved slower than usual as he turned to go back upstairs, the soft hush of his loafers shuffling over the carpet. Though it was only September, the Callahans might have caught an early flu bug. She’d have to double up on the handwashing. She couldn’t get sick, not with all that was on her agenda for the coming weeks. Her lists had begun sprouting sub-lists.

  Five minutes later, as Darcy opened the door to head out to the first cottage, Henry’s and Ingrid’s voices again interrupted the silence. She strained to hear, but the sandstone brick house was well insulated with its foot-thick walls, and the labyrinthine hallways and two staircases leading up to the second floor muffled the noise. Again, she returned to the desk, waiting for one of them to appear and hopefully clear up the calendar conundrum.

  A moment later Ingrid hustled down the stairs and into the kitchen as if she had escaped a crime scene. The woman was a hummingbird, constantly in motion. Yet Darcy still startled when Ingrid looped her arm with Darcy’s and whisked them through the kitchen and into the front parlor with its lemon-hued walls.

  “I don’t want him to hear me,” she whispered when she stopped near one of the huge windows which lent an impressive view of the Big Lake. “He acts like I’m the sick one.” Ingrid cast a glance through the kitchen toward the back staircase, the skin pinched between her eyebrows. Then, with her lip trembling, Ingrid bowed her head. Her shoulders shook.

  Darcy took her hands to calm her. “Ingrid? What’s wrong?” She gave Ingrid a once-over, as if it were that easy to determine. She certainly didn’t look sick. On the contrary, Darcy hoped she looked as fit in thirty-five years as Ingrid did. What was Henry talking about? She led her boss over to the antique, claw-footed couch. Ingrid sank onto the velvet cushions with a wavering breath.

  “He doesn’t want me to say anything, but I don’t want to keep this secret.” With a shaky hand, Ingrid brushed a stray gray curl from her forehead. She glanced at Darcy, her brown eyes lingering, and in that moment Darcy knew this somehow affected her, too.

  “It’s his heart again. I told you we had an appointment with the specialist on Friday afternoon.” She gazed out the window to the lake and shook her head. “Well, he’ll have surgery again next month. There will be months of rehab.” She took one of Darcy’s hands, patted it. “I can’t do this alone. I’m too old for this.”

  “I’m here, Ingrid. I can help. You don’t even have to pay me extra. I’m serious. Any hour that you need me, just call.”

  Ingrid’s eyes grew sympathetic. “You’ve been great, honey. Really, I couldn’t have hired a better person to oversee everything.” She paused, carefully weighing her next words, and the spot of doubt which had planted itself in Darcy’s chest a minute ago blossomed into full-fledged trouble when Ingrid’s steady gaze rested on Darcy. “I think we’ve decided to close Blueberry Point Lodge to guests. To sell.”

  Her new car. The apartment lease she’d re-signed last month. Her mom’s constant implication that she should move back home and pursue her graduate degree in marine anthropology.

  These thoughts popped into her consciousness as soon as Ingrid said the word “close.” Darcy hated herself for it because Ingrid and Henry were such sweethearts⏤the closest thing she had to family in Hendricks. They’d helped her adjust to the lakeside community when she was new to town last summer. Henry scouted garage sales to help furnish her place. Ingrid asked her to the monthly art co-op meeting, of which Ingrid was president and a gifted contemporary painter. They invited her to have dinner with them in Dentsen or Two Rivers a couple of times a month. Now she only thought about how the Callahans’ news would inconvenience her as the couple faced a medical crisis. Get over yourself.

  But it was more than an inconvenience. Where would she find another job that paid so well? In season, Hendricks drew thousands. But November through March, Lake Superior’s North Shore was a frozen wonderland. An empty frozen wonderland. She couldn’t leave the place she’d grown to think of as home.

  “Darcy?” Concern creased Ingrid’s forehead.

  Darcy smiled, but it felt lopsided, insincere.

  Ingrid wilted against the back of the couch. “I’m sorry. I know this is a shock.”

  That snapped Darcy back. “No, don’t apologize. Please.” She rested her hand on top of Ingrid’s. They were so cold, the skin so papery thin. “Henry needs major surgery. He’s your priority. Not me, not this place. It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

  The floor creaked upstairs, and they looked at the ceiling. Ingrid shook her head. “He tried talking me out of it. He knows I love it here.”

  “You both worked hard to fix up this place. I mean, aside from the community center, where else can someone hold a wedding reception if you don’t want to go to Duluth or get eaten by bugs at the park pavilion?”

  Ingrid smiled sadly, then looked at her earnestly. “There are two events that I didn’t have the heart to cancel—the retirement party for Henry’s brother and the October wedding for the Osgoods, close friends of ours. I’m not sure how involved I can be. That being said, would you consider overseeing⁠—”

  “Of course.”

  Ingrid raised her hand. “Know that I’m planning to pay you through that wedding. Think of it as severance pay. That should give you time to find something else.”

  Darcy didn’t know what she could possibly find here that would allow her to stay in Hendricks. Unless she worked three jobs, she didn’t foresee even making half of what she needed each month. Putting applications in at the shipwreck museum and the lighthouse might be related to her education in history and anthropology, but she’d bet they were minimal-paying jobs, if they were hiring.

  Ingrid laid her hand on top of Darcy’s. “I do have a job lead for you.”

  Had she articulated her thoughts just then? It was no shock that Ingrid seemed to read her mind. She had a tendency to do that. Darcy waited for Ingrid to continue.

  “Now, don’t dismiss this right away. I know it’s not Blueberry Point Lodge, but it has the same opportunity to direct local events.”

  In her mind, Darcy was already shaking her head. She knew where Ingrid was going.

  “I heard there’s an opening for a tour host at…Sturgeon Widows Tours.”

  Darcy snorted unintentionally, a sound that was half-filled and half-derisive sound that she couldn’t control. Her mother scolded her constantly for being too expressive about everything. She would admit it was a fault of sorts, but discretion wasn’t part of her genetic makeup. Mom was clipped from the same fabric whether or not she’d admit it.

  “I thought it was strictly a small, family-run business?” Darcy got up from the couch to refill her coffee from the tea cart near the window. Her eyes bugged out when she turned her back to Ingrid. How was she going to get out of pursuing this lead? Ingrid was sweet to be concerned, but⁠—

  “Emily Stetman runs everything. Trent, her husband, and younger son, Matt, are virtually hands-off these days. I think Emily prefers it that way.” She rolled her eyes. “Trent has been wanting to retire for the last five years, so he’s essentially checked out. And Matt, well, he’s always been a sweet, funny guy, but his heart isn’t in it. At least that’s what she tells me.”

  If Emily Stetman didn’t like working with her own family, Darcy wasn’t sure she wanted to work there either. Who knew what kind of toxic atmosphere she’d be walking into?

  Ingrid dismissed that with a small wave. “Emily and I have known each other since the third grade. We used to be the best of friends.” A sheepish grin brightened her face. “That is, until Henry moved to town in junior high.”

  Darcy laughed. “You and Henry were junior high sweethearts? I didn’t know that.”

  “Never broke up. Not even for a day.”

  “I love that.”

  “It is pretty unusual, I’ll admit.” She leaned forward. “Anyway, back to your job prospects. Emily’s other son, Sean, is…was…is the tour host. His schedule has been sporadic because of some personal issues. Emily says he needs a block of time off to recover fully, I guess.”

  “Personal issues?” Darcy asked hesitantly.

  Ingrid’s mouth dipped at the corners. “Relationship troubles.”

  “Wow. That must have been some breakup.” Darcy crossed her arms. “I’m not sure I want to replace the owner’s son. It sounds like a lot of drama.” Here she was again, shutting the door as Ingrid handed her an opportunity. She mentally zipped her lips. Just listen, Darcy.

  “I wouldn’t read too far into it. It’s a great opportunity. I don’t know too many of the tour details, but I do know part of it involves the old shipwreck near the Clearwater Lighthouse.”

  Shipwrecks set her heart humming. Ingrid knew that, too. Her former professor at the Southeast Michigan Maritime Institute had proposed a research project to her while she looked at graduate school last summer. The shipwrecks in Lake Superior were notorious, and they stirred an excitement that begged her to pursue her master’s someday. So while leading tours wasn’t exactly post-graduate studies, the chance to talk about shipwrecks and get paid for it might not be a bad gig after all. At least she’d be employed while she sorted out what she wanted to do next.

  “Okay, Ingrid. You’ve talked me into it. How can I get in touch with Emily?”

  Ingrid pulled a yellow slip of paper from her cardigan pocket. “Here’s her number.”

  Darcy smiled at Ingrid’s wiliness. “Look at you. So ready to get rid of me,” she teased, taking the note. She sat again next to Ingrid.

  “Darcy,” Ingrid said in a chastising tone, “you know better than that. I would have kept you on forever if Henry’s health didn’t demand my full attention.” As if on cue, they heard Henry opening a drawer in the kitchen and sifting through the silverware, and Ingrid put her finger to her lips. “He doesn’t want to close the business; thinks he’ll be back up for it after this next surgery.”

  Still fingering the paper in her hands, Darcy shook her head. “Even I know that’s impossible. With all of the maintenance he does here all by himself? No way.”

  “He doesn’t know I’m talking to you about it. I told him we’d think it over and talk more later. It won’t be easy, letting go.”

  “I understand. I’ll just miss this place. You guys, too.”

  Ingrid rubbed Darcy’s forearm. “We’re not leaving Hendricks, just downsizing. You can still visit, right?”

  “Yes, of course I’ll visit.” Darcy leaned toward Ingrid for a reassuring hug, the scent of the older woman’s lavender soap filling her nose. “We still have the retirement party and wedding to organize. After that, I’ll visit as much as I can so we can catch up.”

  Ingrid rose from the couch. “I think I’d better see what all the silverware rattling means. He’s probably getting ready to cook something.”

  “It probably makes him feel useful.” Darcy got up from the couch, too, intending to continue with her day as if this conversation hadn’t happened. Despite Ingrid’s reassurance that she’d be working for another month until the Osgood wedding, Darcy already felt disconnected. Her feelings must have registered on her face because Ingrid stopped on her way to the kitchen.

  “I know it’s not the best news, Darcy. But there’s a bright side, honey. You just have to look for it,” she said before she headed to the kitchen to see what her restless, heart-weakened husband was up to.

  Darcy smoothed the couch cushions and fluffed the two crimson, tasseled pillows, tossing them back into each corner. What’s the bright side in all of this?

  She crossed the room again to gaze out at the lake. The water was angry today, the waves frothing as they hit the shore a short distance away from the rock-walled patio outside the window. On the warmest days in July, she loved sitting on the patio, feeling the sun as it baked the stone, radiating that heat all around her while she sipped Ingrid’s peach-raspberry tea during her break. She loved leading a group through the small timber patch on the property for blueberry picking. And she loved planning events, especially weddings, and attending to every detail for the people that entrusted Blueberry Point Lodge with their milestone parties. But soon, she’d be on her own.

  As she stood before the window, Darcy searched for something positive in the situation. It certainly wasn’t in the backyard of Blueberry Point Lodge or on the lake that churned like it felt her despair. Not anymore.

  Chapter Three

  Two days later, Darcy grabbed the table in the large bay window area at Debi’s Donuts. On Tuesdays and Thursdays before work, she’d get up a half hour earlier and skip breakfast so she could treat herself. She loved coming into Debi’s with the sweet scent of baked goods and the rich aroma of coffee filling the small shop. She’d sit at the table alone with her cinnamon raisin Danish, an apple fritter, or the special of the day, and a coffee, to read a week’s worth of Hendricks news from newspapers stuffed into the wall rack near her table.

  She loved the lake in all of its serene, tempestuous, mysterious, and unpredictable states. Growing up in the northern Chicago suburbs, her family had first visited the lake during the summer when she was seven, renting a house with a small plot of beach access near Dentsen. They returned every summer after that until her father’s death eight years later. Now living near it and seeing it daily was a different experience; it had grown familiar and became a source of comfort for her, like an old friend.

  The rush of air that swept the curls off of her forehead when the front door opened interrupted her thoughts. It was Bethany, breezing into the shop like the wind that preceded her arrival through the door. Her willowy friend crossed the space with fluid grace, gained from a longtime obsession with yoga and, before that, childhood ballet lessons. She had recently opened her own yoga studio on Main Street.

  Bethany pulled out the chair and collapsed in the seat, dumping her canvas bag onto the floor. “Hey there. Sorry I’m late.” She tucked her shoulder-length bob behind both ears. “Silda darted out the door after a squirrel when I was leaving. Luckily, cats don’t like to be wet. I didn’t think it was going to rain today.”

  Darcy glanced at the sky outside the window. “It’ll be done by noon.” She pushed the vegan blueberry scone across the table toward her friend. “Debi is brewing more coffee. It should be ready by now.”

  As if on cue, Debi Thomas came from behind the counter with their mugs. “Hot and fresh.”

  Bethany whirled around to look at the door. “Where is he?!”

  “Just coffee,” Debi said, chuckling. “The day I start stocking men in the pastry case is the day I’ll have lines out the door and into the next county.”

  Darcy laughed and nudged her friend’s hand. “There you go. New business venture.” Bethany was always on the lookout for her next ex-boyfriend and joked about offering a men-only yoga class. Darcy quickly quashed that idea, reasoning that the type of men Bethany found attractive weren’t the type who would take a yoga class in Hendricks.

  Darcy waited until Debi was back behind the counter before she leaned across the table. “So...I have some sad news. Ingrid and Henry are closing Blueberry Point Lodge.”

  “No! Seriously?”

  “I wish I weren’t serious. Henry needs another operation. There will be a long recovery time again, and Ingrid isn’t up for going it alone.”

  “Understandable. That’s a big place, even for you two dynamos.” She reached across the table to pat Darcy’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

 

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