Finding Reese (Tremont Lodge Series Book 1) (10 page)

“If I did that, the staff wouldn’t respect me,” he says.

“I don’t think that’s true. I, for one, respond to authority figures better when they treat me like a human.”

An evil gleam flickers from Lawson’s eyes. “Do you mean to tell me that if I used proper manners with you and catered to your every need, that you might forget about Finn for a minute and give your whole self over to
my
whims?” The elevator door opens directly into Mr. Oakley’s suite, through which I proceed, ignoring Lawson’s ridiculous question. Like he could even begin to act human.

Lawson pulls out his phone while I inspect the penthouse. “Yeah, you heard me right,” I hear Lawson say into the phone. “Get someone over to elevator A with a mop in the next five minutes or your ass is fired. I don’t need some damn lawsuit because Granny slipped on water and broke her hip.”

“You are quite a peach,” I say sarcastically.

“At your pleasure, my dear.” I shrug away his hand and walk toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the lawn. The view is stunning. I could just imagine the snow-covered mountain with skiers flying down the slopes in winter. It would be like participating in your own movie, only with interchangeable characters. For being the owner of the largest ski resort in the Midwest, though, the penthouse is sparsely decorated. I suppose Mr. Oakley’s style could be described as modern minimalist. That will just make snooping easier on my part.

“Breathtaking,” says Lawson.

“Yes, I guess it is,” I say, leaning my head against a window to get a better view of the lawn below.

“I was talking about you, Reese.” Lawson moves beside me, his breath leaving a condensation mark on the window.

“That is
not
how you work on your manners, Lawson.” For a brief moment a human Lawson looks embarrassed. “Can I see your uncle’s history room now?”

Lawson runs his hand through his hair, every strand falling back into its place, and he shakes his head. “You are something else, Reese. Follow me.” We walk down a narrow hallway to the room at the end. He punches buttons to a security code and pushes the door open. Opposite of the bare apartment, this room is cluttered, everything so tightly packed we can both barely fit into the room. “What are you looking for exactly?”

“It’s really hard to say. I don’t think I’ll know until I see it, but if you have any clue as to where I might find those guest registries, that would be great.”

He points to a large filing cabinet. “They are in there. The last ten years are digitalized, but anything before then is still in paper form. I don’t really understand what you’re looking for. There are thousands and thousands of names.” I don’t want to involve Lawson in my drama, or share my business with him, but I need his help, though just thinking that I need him in any way makes me sick.

“Look, Lawson. I’m going to eat a nice dinner with you and make friendly conversation. I’ll uphold my end of the deal. And I really appreciate you bringing me here, but I can’t give you all the answers you want, not yet at least. Do you think you can play nice…for once?”

“You are getting on my last nerve. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need to see the registry from July or August 1998.” Lawson doesn’t so much as scrunch his face in judgment but goes straight to the file cabinet and starts pulling open drawers and looking at labels on the guest books. I survey the rest of the room, thumbing through photo albums, capturing the joy and relaxation that vacations are supposed to embody. Trophies from youth hockey league teams sponsored by Tremont Lodge line a shelf over a desk. Blake plays hockey, but he never won trophies this grand. Does everything that Mr. Oakley touches radiate success? A picture of a woman in a photo frame on the desk captures my attention. I pick it up and study the pretty smile and wide set eyes. She looks familiar, but I can’t place her.

“Put that back,” Lawson hisses. I nearly drop the frame, placing it back on the desk.

“I…I’m sorry. I was just looking….”

“It’s okay…sorry to snap, but—here are the registries you were looking for.”

“Thanks.” I sit on the floor because there are no other open places and thumb through the book. The signatures are accompanied with hometowns and states of the visiting guests. When an overview gives no answers, I begin a meticulous search name by name.

“We’ll get out of here faster if you let me help.” I look up at Lawson who is standing over me. Another flicker of
human
crosses his face. I scoot over so that he can sit down next to me, so close that our knees are touching.

“Look for Bridgman, Michigan.” He takes the August registry from my hands and begins combing through the thousands of names. We work in silence, the only sound the turning of crisp pages.

“Here’s a Bridgman, Michigan entry,” says Lawson, pointing to a page in his book. I grab the book out of his hands and read the name. It’s no one I know. I drop my head into my hands and sigh.
Breathe in. Breathe out
, I tell myself. This is too small of a space for another panic attack. I’m liable to tear the room apart. “Reese.” Lawson sounds miles away, the static in my brain growing louder with each breath. He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me even closer. I don’t even push him away, everything that I need seeming so unreachable. “Reese, I’m sorry that wasn’t what you were looking for. Let me take another look.” He skims the registry in silence while I stand up to get a water bottle out of my purse. “Here’s another Bridgman, Michigan,” Lawson says, “but let me read the names to you—John, Frannie, Reese, and Blake Prentice.” I fall to my knees and grab the book from Lawson. Touching the names is like an electric shock pulsing through my body. It’s almost as if I am touching the very person who wrote these names once upon a time because they were real. My family
was
real. “You’ve been to Tremont before,” Lawson says. “Did something happen?” My eyes tell a story. I can’t help it, and Lawson knows the answer. “Tell me.”

“I wish I could,” I say, “but I don’t know. I was too young to remember.”

“And that’s why you’re working here this summer—to try to remember.” I shake my head
yes.
“Let me see the book again.” I hand it over, my fingers dragging across the page as if I’m losing a piece of me again. “You stayed in room 1014.”

“I know. I have a postcard my mom sent to my grandparents.” I’d found it by accident when looking through my grandmother’s dresser drawer for some costume jewelry to wear to an 80s party the summer after my freshman year of college. It barely touched my fingers before she snatched it out of my hands and accused me of snooping. I didn’t understand the big secret then. I certainly don’t understand now, but it hadn’t taken long to read the message because it didn’t say much.

Dear Bev and Jim,

We’re all checked in at the lodge. Room 1014 gives a great view of the lush lawn below. The trip was uneventful. Hoping for good weather the rest of the week. See you both soon.

Love,

Frannie, John, and the kids

“Do you think going back to that room might trigger something?”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe, but we have strict instructions from Helen to not go onto any floors that we don’t clean. Everyone has a stake in their own turf, I guess.”

Lawson gives me a funny look, arching his eyebrows and rolling his eyes. “Reese, have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I can get you into that room.”

“You’d do that?” I ask.

“Sure…but you owe me something a little more than a date.

“Lawson, stop. I’m not interested….”

“Sure you are. You need me, and one of these days you’ll figure it out that I’m good at more than just giving you access to parts of the Tremont that are off-limits to you.” I highly doubt a passing moment of decency will change my mind about Lawson Oakley, but I need him, and the sole purpose of my coming to Tremont Lodge forces the answer before I have time to ponder its implications. “Yes, but nothing funny.” I stand up and assess the room one more time, taking in the artifacts that tell the history of Tremont Lodge. My eyes fall again to the picture on the desk. “Who is she?” I ask. Lawson follows my gaze.

“My mother,” he says.

“Why does your uncle have a picture of your father’s wife on his desk?” Lawson slams the file cabinet closed.

“Save the questions for your own life, okay?” I grab my purse and follow him out the door and down the hall to the elevator, pissed that I asked the question but even more pissed that I didn’t get an answer to the question.

During dinner at the Winter Haven Restaurant, Lawson and I receive the best service of my life. I can barely finish half a glass of my wine before there is a waiter there filling it up again. “Is this your plan?” I ask, nodding at my wine glass after the waiter leaves. “Get your dates drunk so they’re more likely to sleep with you?”

“I don’t need to get my dates drunk for that,” he says, winking. “The ladies are attracted to my wit and charm.” He smiles, and I cringe. “But if you need a little help, then by all means, drink up.”

“I think water will be fine,” I say.

“I understand. You need your senses to stay sharp since I’m so irresistible.”

“Why won’t you give up?” I ask in all seriousness.

“Because you’re not like the rest of them. Don’t get me wrong. I have fun with
the rest of the them
, but I think I’d have a hell of a lot more fun with someone who makes me work harder. Every part of the experience will be heightened, if you know what I mean,” he says, winking.

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but you’re going to fail this challenge.” Something tells me that Lawson isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants. It’s up to me to change his mind, but first I need to get into Room 1014.

It takes another fifteen minutes before I realize that there isn’t going to be a bill. Of course Lawson doesn’t have to buy dinner in the lodge. He really can wine and dine the bimbos to his heart’s content. He brushes his hand along my arm, and I push it off. “What shall we have for dessert, my dear?” he asks.

“I’m full, Lawson. Can we go?” He locks eyes with my stare, each of us willing the other to blink first, before he takes a deep breath and sits back in his chair.

“In a hurry, huh? What should we do next?” He winks at me which makes me want to hurl.

“You said you’d take me to Room 1014.”

“Whoa! I said I’d take you there, but I didn’t say tonight. We’ve got plenty of time for that.” I tighten and untighten my fists on the table so I don’t pick up my empty wine glass and heave it at his head.

“Lawson,” I say slowly, smiling the best fake smile I can muster. “I would really like to see that room
now.
” He puts his hands on the back of his head and stretches like he’s tired. That, or he’s trying to impress me with his bulging muscles. But he doesn’t cause one single flutter.

“You know what people are going to think if they see us taking the elevators up to the guest suites.”

“I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks, Lawson.” Though what I’m really thinking is,
No one is going to see us, so stop your stupid seduction dance.

“There’s a naughty girl in there after all,” he says. “Alright. We can check out that room. Let me make sure it’s not occupied, or you’ll have to schedule another date.” I watch him walk away from the table and in the direction of the front desk in the lobby. The whole time I’m praying,
Please, God. Let that room be empty. I’ve been waiting so long to go back. And the last thing I need is to prolong this torture with Lawson.

I down another glass of wine while he’s gone because my confidence for this night is dwindling fast. Lawson is smiling when he walks back into the restaurant. Maybe God shined on me tonight after all. “It’s all set,” says Lawson.

“The room’s empty?” I ask.

“Yes, the room is ready and waiting—for us.” He winks again, but I ignore him, pick up my purse, and start walking toward the bank of elevators.

This time we have the elevators to ourselves. I stare at my reflection in the mirror on the ceiling while Lawson chews loudly on a stick of gum. When the elevator stops at the tenth floor, I can hear my heartbeat accelerate. Questions fly through my head.
What am I supposed to do when I’m there? What if I remember something horrible? What if I don’t remember anything at all?

“You okay, Reese?” Lawson puts his hand on my elbow to keep me from falling over. “Too much wine?” he teases. I shake my head
no
but feel my feet stuck to their position on the floor. “We don’t have to do this,” he says, moving to stand in front of me, the mint from his gum filling my senses.

“No, I…I want to go,” I say. He runs the back of his hand down my cheek, and I shudder.

“You’re excited, aren’t you?” He whispers in my ear. I shake my head
yes
. Maybe not excitement like you feel on Christmas morning but more like relief to know that what you’ve been wanting for so long is about to happen. It’s the high expectations of being back in that room that may crush me.

I follow Lawson down the hall to Room 1014. I’ve seen the room before, in my dreams. It didn’t look like all of the rooms I’ve been cleaning, though. In my mind the room looked like my parent’s bedroom where we’d all pile together on a Saturday morning. Mom would feed Blake while Dad read the newspaper and I watched cartoons. I don’t remember what I watched, but I remember the feeling of contentment, not a care in my five-year-old world as I rested on my stomach at the foot of their bed to be closer to the television. Half-expecting to revisit that scene when Lawson opens the door and I walk inside, I feel a rush of stale familiarity slap me in the face instead of the familiarity of cozy Saturday mornings with my family. No, it’s just a plain hotel room like all of the others I’ve been cleaning day after day this summer. Rotating happy couples and families—in and out—nothing more, nothing less. I sit on the edge of the bed closest to the window. The lights along the walkways outside illuminate the lawn below. The campfire crackles a small fire where I imagine children are begging for
just one more
s’more. I run my hands along the comforter in a tactile attempt to find something that strikes a memory of that day sixteen years ago when my family left my brother and me alone in this room never to return.