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“It was pretty clear she’s not a fan of Lake Henry,” Cassie said, remembering Emerson’s disdainful remark.

“Would you want to stay after what she went through?” Jim asked, shoveling a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

“She just ran out on the people who supported her all those years,” Katie argued, shaking her head. “Barely so much as a goodbye.”

“What happened?” Zack piped in.

Chris took up the story. “This woman was a very good skier when she was just a kid.”

“How good?”

“Super good. Like Olympics good.”

“Wow,” Zack said.

“Yeah, but she got hurt.”

“Bad?”

“Really bad. She hurt her knee so much she couldn’t ski anymore.”

“Ever?” Zack’s eyes grew wide, as if he couldn’t imagine never being able to ski.

“I’m afraid so. It made her very sad, so she moved away.”

Zack blinked at her for a beat. “That sucks,” he finally pronounced. “I’d leave too.”

Chris tilted her head at her son. “It does suck. That’s true. But it would make me sad if you left. Wouldn’t you miss me? I’d miss you.”

“So would I,” Cassie added.

“And me and Grandpa,” Katie chimed in.

“Not me,” Izzy said, and the table broke into laughter as Zack bumped shoulders with his little sister. The mood lightened considerably, and Cassie was glad.

“I got the impression she’s just going to stick around here long enough to figure out what to do with her mom’s stuff, her property, the inn. Sounds like there’s a lot to deal with.”

“I can imagine,” Katie said, then sighed. “Poor Mary must be on pins and needles waiting to see what happens.”

“Mom, Mary’s older than the hills,” Chris said. “Retiring wouldn’t be a terrible thing for her.”

Katie shot her a look. “She is not that old. And she loves that place. She’s already lost without Caroline. I don’t know how she even goes in there every day without breaking down.”

“I don’t think she likes Emerson,” Cassie said.

“That’s not surprising. She saw every day how much Caroline missed her daughter. And now Mary’s future is in this girl’s hands? I’d be annoyed with her too.”

“I guess.” Cassie chewed and swallowed, then added, “I’ve been trying to go by every couple of days and see how she’s doing, help out a bit.” Cassie knew her mother was right. Mary was putting up a good front for the sake of the customers, but her red-rimmed eyes and the dark circles beneath them were pretty clear signs of how she’d been feeling. “I’ve got three people scheduled at the store tomorrow. I can probably snag an hour or two. Gordie and I will go check on her.”

“Do you think Emerson will sell the inn?” Jim asked. “I hear Arnold Cross has been nosing around after it again.”

Katie made a sound of distaste. “That man is shady. Let’s hope he doesn’t get his paws on that property. Lake Henry doesn’t need to be developed. It needs to be left alone.” Turning to Cassie, she repeated Jim’s question. “Do you think she’ll sell it?

Cassie sighed. “I really don’t know. She didn’t say. I can tell you she has no desire to stay in Lake Henry, so if she doesn’t sell it, she’ll have to find somebody to run it for her.”

“Mary runs it now. Why not just leave it alone?” Chris asked.

Cassie lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know what to tell you. She didn’t offer up that much information. I honestly don’t think she’s made a decision yet.”

***

Emerson wasn’t sure why she’d felt it necessary to wear a suit. It was the one she’d worn as she flew from California to New York, a snappy gray number with brushed nickel buttons on the jacket and a sleekly smooth pair of pants that outlined her hips nicely. She wore a deep purple blouse underneath the jacket and her black pumps. At least this time she was able to drive rather than attempting to navigate the cobblestones in heels.

Brad Klein’s office was just outside the village center, but still near the lake, and he had a parking lot with five spaces—gold in this town. She pulled her mother’s Subaru into one of two empty spots remaining, finger-combed her hair, and checked her face in the rearview mirror. She’d never worn much makeup, but Claire had taught her to use mascara and lip gloss to her advantage. Now she never went to a meeting without them. Deep breath in, slow breath out, and she was ready.

The butterflies in her stomach were inexplicable. Why was she nervous? What was there to be nervous about? She was meeting with a businessman about a possible business deal. She did this kind of thing every day. Her leather attaché was on the passenger seat, and she reached for its soft handle. Another thing she really didn’t need, but she felt more confident with it in her hand, so it came along.

The interior of Klein’s office was modest, but neat and classy. Soft instrumental music surrounded her, a gentle sound for which she could find no source. A thick slate gray carpet covered the entire floor, and a bowl of potpourri in a subtle cinnamon scent sat on an end table in a corner, lending a warm, cozy feel to the reception area. Klein’s secretary was pretty and blonde, maybe forty-five, and offered a friendly smile as Emerson entered.

“Ms. Rosberg?” At Emerson’s nod, she continued. “They’re expecting you. In the conference room. First door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Emerson lifted her chin, walked the short distance to the indicated door, straightened up to her full height, and entered.

“Ah, there she is.” Klein stood, his hand outstretched toward Emerson. His handshake was firm, but not too firm, and she appreciated that he didn’t crush her hand to show his dominance like so many men she’d dealt with in the business world. He was dressed in a black suit with a lavender tie, and Emerson mentally grinned at how well they coordinated. “Ms. Rosberg, this is Arnold Cross. Mr. Cross, meet Emerson Rosberg.”

Emerson turned to face the man interested in purchasing her mother’s property. He was standing, but it was hard to tell. He couldn’t be more than five foot three, and Emerson towered over him by more than half a foot. He was more round than any other shape. His hand was small and warm, his fingers like puffy sausages. He had a donut of salt-and-pepper hair ringing his head, some independent strands sticking out in odd directions, doing their own thing. But his suit was perfectly tailored, and his aftershave was pleasant enough.

“Please,” he said. “Call me Arnie.” His voice was deeper than Emerson expected. He gestured toward the big cherry table. “Shall we sit?”

The room was simple and comfortable, with a gorgeous view of the lake from three very large windows. The table’s surface was buffed to a perfect shine; Emerson could clearly see her own reflection. Six chairs surrounded it, deep gray cushioning the seat of each one, setting off the lighter gray carpeting nicely. The walls were still a lighter gray, an abstract painting in blues and purples hanging over the credenza against one wall.

The three of them sat, Emerson and Cross on opposite sides with Klein at the head of the table, a folder in front of him. He got right down to business. “As we discussed on the phone, Mr. Cross has prepared a very fair offer for purchase of The Lakeshore Inn, which you now own, as well as the commercial property at 217 Main.”

Emerson nodded.

“I’m not sure you know,” Cross said, “but I purchased the rest of the inn from your mother a little more than five years ago, and I think that worked out well for both of us. With the purchase of the smaller waterfront property, I can bring the whole inn back together, restoring it to its former glory. The price I’m offering you is fair. It takes into consideration all the work that needs to be done. Roof. New windows. And it’s way past time for new paint. Your mother loved the place, but let’s face it; she was not much of a business owner. Too much help with too little revenue. I’m certain with a little renovation, we could get two more rooms out of that place.”

It was a sales pitch, no two ways about it, and Emerson knew that, even as she tried not to bristle at his criticism of Caroline’s business sense. Part of her was irritated to have something her mother held so dear reduced to a sale item, but the rest of her knew this was just business for Arnold Cross. He had no emotional ties, no sentimentality for the inn. It was a money maker, plain and simple, and aside from the “former glory” comment, he was not trying to make it look like anything other than that.

Five years ago, Lake Henry was barely a blip on Emerson’s radar. She’d been gallivanting around California, spending the last of the money she’d gotten in the few endorsement deals she’d had as a teenager—the ones that went bye-bye right along with her knee. She partied. She traveled. She drank too much. If she called her mother once a month, that was lucky. She’d had no idea there were financial issues. Her mother had taken the inn over from her own parents when they’d passed away, and the debt that was left was hefty and surprising. Caroline had done her best, but nothing was working. She’d toyed with simply selling the commercial property. Although that was a reliable source of income, it wasn’t enough to keep the entire inn afloat. After much debate, she’d finally decided the only way to get out from under the mountain of debt and start fresh was to sell off part of the inn. She sold the big house on the hill to Cross; it eventually became The Lakeview Hotel, but she couldn’t bear to part with the waterfront building and cottage. Emerson had no clue about the sale until she came for her last visit and saw the new sign with the new name. She’d been stunned.

“I did know that about the big house,” Emerson said now. “I know you helped my mom out of a jam. Something else I know, Mr. Cross: my mother despised you. But that doesn’t mean you’re not the right man for the job.”

Cross took the jab in stride, seemed almost proud of it. Emerson had learned the history through phone calls with her mother. She knew Cross had paid a fair price, but he’d been pushy and overbearing at a time when Caroline was emotionally raw, heartbroken to have to give up the big house, and no sooner had the ink dried on the paperwork then Cross had construction workers and equipment brought in to make dozens of changes inside and out. That left a bad taste. Over the phone, Emerson could almost hear the grimace Caroline would make whenever Cross’s name came up.

“Well.” Klein stepped in, sliding a stack of papers out of the folder. “Mr. Cross had his attorney write up an offer for you.” He pushed the stack in Emerson’s direction. She slid them the rest of the way so they lined up in front of her, but she made no move to turn pages or read what was written.

“If it’s all right, I’d like to take some time to look it all over.”

“Of course. Of course.” Cross smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and his teeth were so white they looked utterly out of place in his face. “Take your time. I just assumed you’d want to be getting back to—where is it? Los Angeles?”

Emerson nodded, understanding that Cross was a man who covered his bases, and so it wasn’t surprising for him to have researched her. Still, she didn’t like him knowing things like where she lived.

“Yes. I just thought you’d want to be getting home as soon as possible. It’s getting cold here.” Cross chuckled, an obviously fake chuckle, and Emerson forced a smile. “You’re probably missing that west coast sunshine right about now.”

With another nod, Emerson looked to Klein. “All set then?”

Klein stood, effectively ending the session. Handshakes all around and then he walked Cross out. Emerson sat at the table, looking out the window at the slightly choppy surface of the lake instead of at the stack of papers. She felt Klein return more than saw him. When she looked up, he was studying her with wise blue eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, a gentleness in his voice.

Emerson released a breath. “I’m fine. I’m trying to figure out why I don’t like him.”

“Cross?” Klein laughed. “Nobody likes him. The guy’s rich, successful, and buying up Lake Henry property like there’s no tomorrow. What’s to like?”

“I’m sure his offer is fair.”

“It is. I wouldn’t let you even entertain it if it wasn’t.”

“I just…I need to think on it. Is that okay?”

Klein’s expression softened along with his voice. “Hey, Emerson, I work for you, remember? You’re the boss here. Take all the time you need.”

She slipped the offer into her attaché, bid Klein her goodbyes, and headed out to the parking lot. The air was crisp, probably not even getting to fifty degrees today as the beginning of November loomed. Emerson’s heels clicked as she crossed the pavement to her car, but after tossing her attaché onto the passenger seat, she did not get in. Instead, she was pulled by the water, the lake seeming to beckon to her. She followed a narrow paved path around the side of Klein’s office building until it led her to the lakeshore. A large swinging bench sat empty as if waiting for her.

She wrapped her arms around herself against the chill and sat, swinging gently, staring out onto the water.

Cassie gazed out the
window of her office at the choppy surface of Lake Henry two stories below. The day had started out sunny, but clouds had moved in, and the sky had turned the color of a dull nickel. She could see a few boats out on the water, diehard water lovers who refused to pack up their boats or kayaks until the first snowflakes fell.

Her desk was strewn with paperwork that she should be plowing through, but instead she stared at it blankly. Like a child who’s reached the end of the day’s kindergarten class, she just couldn’t seem to get her brain to focus, no matter how hard she tried. The plastic jack-o’-lantern her mother had plugged in and set on a filing cabinet smiled menacingly at her, but even the promise of Halloween and trick-or-treating later that evening couldn’t give her the kick-start she needed. Three monitors on the desk behind her showed the views from the security cameras in the store. Everything seemed fine. A glance at the black cat wall clock with the swinging tail pendulum told her she’d given up on doing anything productive nearly half an hour ago and had been staring out the window ever since.

A sharp knock on the door startled her, and her body jerked. Catching her breath, she said, “Come in.”

Jonathan entered with two steaming cups from Starbucks. He set one on her desk. “For you. Happy Halloween.”