Zero Visibility (2 page)

I hate this fucking town.

“You must be famished.” Mary’s voice interrupted Emerson’s thoughts, and the mere mention of food made her stomach rumble in response. “I’ve got some leftover chicken soup in the fridge. Come on back to the kitchen, and I’ll heat you up a bowl. And we’ll need to talk about the details for tomorrow.” Her expression was somber as she gestured to Emerson’s suitcase. “I assume you’ll want to stay in your mother’s place.”

Emerson blinked in surprise as she followed Mary around the counter. “Oh. Actually, I thought I’d just crash in one of the rooms.”

Mary glanced over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Honey, it’s October. We’re booked solid.”

Realizing she hadn’t really thought it through, Emerson gave an embarrassed nod. “Okay,” was all she could think to say.

The mouthwatering aroma of homemade chicken soup filled the kitchen within minutes as Mary said, “Your mother had most of the details for her funeral all written out and in a file, so I was able to follow it pretty well.” She ladled the steaming soup into a big stoneware bowl and handed Emerson a spoon. “I remember her talking about how confusing it was for her when her father passed away, all the sifting through paperwork and looking high and low for forms and information. She vowed never to do that to you.”

Emerson nodded as the first explosion of taste hit her tongue. The soup was amazing and she tried to focus on it instead of this conversation she really didn’t want to have. But Mary continued.

“I chose her favorite outfit for her to be buried in. You can pick something else if you want,” Mary added quickly as she took a seat across the table. “I don’t want to step on your toes.”

Emerson swallowed, then cleared her throat. “No, no. It’s fine. I’m sure you made the right choice for her.”
It’s not like I’d have any idea what her favorite clothes were.

“Calling hours are tomorrow from two until four and then again from six until nine. We can go over in the morning and take care of any leftover paperwork. I did what I could, but as Caroline’s next of kin, you’ll need to handle a few things. Obviously.”

Emerson nodded, continued to eat, continued to listen.

“The day after tomorrow, there will be a quick service at the funeral home at ten, then we’ll drive to the cemetery. John and Stella are closing the restaurant so we can have lunch there, then they’ll reopen for dinner.”

“Which restaurant is that?”

The first flicker of disapproval came then, but zipped across Mary’s face so quickly, Emerson almost missed it. “Harbordale.”

“Ah.” Emerson nodded. She had no idea where Harbordale was. Must be new since her last visit. She finished her soup and vacillated between wanting a second bowl and wanting to fall face-down into bed and sleep for a hundred years. A quick internal debate and sleep won out. She took her bowl to the sink and rinsed it out as she spoke. “That was delicious, Mary. Thank you so much.” She set the bowl in the drying rack and turned to face her mother’s best friend. “Hey, is there room for me to park my rental someplace? I’m down the street in the lot.”

“Well, Caroline’s car is here in her spot. You can probably take your rental back and just drive hers.”

Emerson nodded, immediately thinking what a pain in the ass that would be, but she was too tired to think of any alternatives. “Okay.” They stood for a few awkward moments and Emerson said, “I am so tired. Flying just drains me. I think I’m going to hit the hay. If that’s okay with you.”

Mary jumped up. “Of course. Of course. Follow me.”

Her bag rolling along behind her, Emerson trailed Mary out the kitchen door and along a stone pathway. It was too dark to see much at this point, but the smell of the leaves and the water, the sounds of the crickets and the bullfrogs lulled Emerson momentarily back into her childhood. Funny how you could be away for so long, and something as simple as the croak of a frog could bring back decades-old memories.

“Here we are,” Mary said, fitting a key into the door lock of a small, weathered-to-the-point-of-charming cottage. She pushed the door open and reached around to hit the light switch, but didn’t step in. “I had the sheets changed this morning, so they’re fresh. It’s your mom’s place—er—was your mom’s place, so…you don’t need me to tell you anything about it. It’s yours now.” She dropped the keys into Emerson’s hand as her voice caught, and she looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she simply instructed. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” With a quick spin on her heel, she hurried back to the main house, sniffling softly.

Emerson closed the door behind her, standing in the silence. She hadn’t been in this cottage in a long time, not since her mother had moved in. That was before she’d sold the main building, the huge Lakeview Hotel across the street. She didn’t want to think about that now. She didn’t want to think about anything. She was so tired her eyes wouldn’t focus, but she followed her blurry vision anyway. The layout of the cottage hadn’t changed from when she’d been a kid, so she stumbled along to the bedroom, peeled off her clothes, and fell into bed, sleep claiming her before she had another conscious thought.

Cassie blew her nose
one last time before she reached for the door handle and got out of the car. She slammed the door and gave a full body shake, as if she could rid herself of the awful feelings of sadness and grief simply by jiggling her clothes.

“Well,” Jonathan Brickman said from the driver’s side. He caught Cassie’s eye over the roof of his silver Lexus. “That sucked in a big way.” He looked even more dashing than usual, his toned, six-foot frame clad in a somber black suit with a lavender dress shirt underneath and a black tie accent. His dark hair shone with the copious amounts of product he put in it each morning, and Cassie knew if she touched it, she’d get pricked as if by a porcupine. Jonathan’s hair didn’t move; that was the point. But it looked damn good. Combined with his olive complexion, alarmingly precise goatee, and calming green eyes, he was a beautiful man.

Too bad he wasn’t her type. She wasn’t his, either, which was what made their friendship so perfect.

Cassie merely nodded at Jonathan’s comment. She didn’t trust herself to speak yet, the tears still a bit too close to the surface. Taking in a deep lungful of fresh Adirondack air she steadied herself, waited a beat or two, then gave another nod.

“Okay?” Jonathan asked, his voice laced with sympathy as he came around the car and dropped a comforting arm over her shoulders.

“Yeah, I think so. I hate funerals.”

“We all do, sweetie.”

“She was so young.” Lake Henry was a small town, just about everybody knew everybody else anyway, but Caroline…she was loved by all. Every last one. She was one of those people. Visitors actually had to attend her wake in shifts, there were so many who wanted to pay their respects. And this morning, the funeral home had been packed. “Only a few years older than my mom. I can’t imagine losing her already.” A lump formed in her throat, and her eyes welled.

Jonathan squeezed her close. “Your mom’s fine, Cass.”

“So was Caroline before the blood clot. She had no idea she was even in danger. And then, bam! That’s all she wrote.” The tears spilled over. “It’s so wrong, Johnny.”

“I know, honey. I know.” He turned her face into his chest and held her tight while she cried.

After a few moments, she pulled away, dried her eyes with a way overused tissue, and blew her nose yet again. “Okay. Enough.” Another full-body shake and she felt better. “Enough. I’ve got things to do, Johnny. Why do you keep me here in the parking lot while you wallow? You’re so needy.”

Jonathan smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “I can’t help it. I’m such a queen.” He slid his hand down her arm, clasped her hand in his. “Hey, speaking of royalty, did you notice the Ice Princess?”

Cassie rolled her eyes at the mention of Caroline’s daughter. “You mean that she barely shed a tear? I think she was the only one.”

“Some things never change.” He kissed the top of her head. “Catch you later. Time to go to work.” He headed toward the back door of his high-end gift shop, Boutique. Cassie watched until he disappeared inside, then turned to face the lake.

The back parking lot was a mere few steps to the water, which was calm and sun-glinted today. Just looking at the surface made Cassie feel more peaceful, so she stood there for several long moments. To her left was a long dock that reached twenty-five yards out into the water, and was used to help her customers give kayaks and canoes a test drive before they purchased them. The bottom floor of her store, the basement, was actually a walk-out, the whole wall that faced Lake Henry a bank of windows, and featured any water equipment you might need. She could see her mother inside behind the counter, ringing out a customer. The floor above her was the main one and housed general sportswear, jackets, and equipment for any team sports, plus the shoe department and the front door, where customers entered from Main Street. Frannie, Cassie’s very first and most trusted employee (aside from her mother) was managing at the moment. The second floor was stocked full with winter apparel, ski equipment, snowshoes, snowboards, and anything else that might be needed for the coming months. She had two employees working up there today, as it was the beginning of peak season. A third would be in at noon.

With a deep breath, she turned and headed inside.

“Hey, Mom,” Cassie said in greeting as the customer left with a large bag. Three more were milling about.

Katie Parker opened her arms to her daughter. Cassie stepped into them without further prompting. “How’re you doing, sweetie?”

“Ugh,” Cassie groaned into her shoulder, then breathed in the scent of Red Door, her mother’s one and only perfume. “I’m glad it’s over.”

“Are you positive you don’t want to go to the lunch at Harbordale? I’m sure we could get somebody to cover down here.”

Cassie shook her head as a young woman approached the counter with a pair of sunglasses. “No. It’s fine. I don’t really want to go, but you and Dad should. Just let me go up and change, and I’ll come down and relieve you, okay?”

She wasn’t quite ready to deal with the rest of her employees, let alone customers, so she took the back staircase up to the top floor of the building where her apartment was. She barely got the door open before she was greeted by forty-one pounds of wiggling, wagging Australian Shepherd who let her know how displeased he was to be locked up at home rather than down in the store where he much preferred to be.

“Hey, Gordie,” Cassie said softly. She opened her arms, and he leapt into them without any further prompting, a trick she taught him when he was still a puppy. Cassie buried her face in his soft, tri-colored fur and held him tight. Sensing her emotions—something at which her dog was frighteningly adept—he remained still in her embrace, allowing her to hold him as long as she needed to.

When she felt better, she let him down, checked her messages (none), and headed into her bedroom—Gordie right behind her—suddenly needing nothing more than to get out of the little black dress as quickly as possible. With a relieved groan, she kicked off her modest heels wondering, not for the first time, why women insisted on wearing such uncomfortable footwear. Trying not to dwell on the morning’s activity of attending the funeral of a woman she’d loved and respected a great deal, she pulled off her dress and tossed it in a heap on the bed. Once in her wind pants and fleece pullover with The Sports Outfitter logo embroidered on the left chest, she felt like a normal human again. Stopping by the bathroom, she gave her teeth a quick brush, wiped off her mascara and its subtle black smudges left under her eyes, and pulled her dark hair into a ponytail.

“Better,” she said to her reflection, then gave one quick nod. “Okay, Gordie. Let’s go to work.”

Gordie had only a tiny nub of a tail, but his entire back end wiggled in happiness as he followed Cassie to the door and then down the steps. She kept a hand lightly on his fur as they descended, and though she felt a little better, she still couldn’t shake the fact that she would never see Caroline again. It still didn’t seem real.

Clearing her throat, she opened the door from the stairway to the shop, pasted on her happy business face, and greeted her customers.

***

If Emerson had thought she’d been bone tired two nights ago, she apparently didn’t understand the definition because she was pretty sure she was about to drop tonight. It wasn’t just the standing and the nodding and the small talk with people she didn’t know. It was her overstimulated brain. It was the ache in her cheeks from forcing herself to smile. It was the throbbing of her knee, which only happened when she overdid it or was on her feet for too long, usually in the wrong shoes. She wanted nothing more than to soak in a hot bathtub in a room filled with silence, a glass of wine in her hand, and that’s what she planned to do.

Consciously avoiding the rest of the cottage, she dropped her clutch, stepped out of her heels, and walked straight through the bedroom into the attached bathroom.

“Some things never change,” she said with fondness to the empty room as she easily located her mother’s stash of bubble bath and bath salts. Emerson got her love of soaking in the tub from her mother, who did so almost every night before bed without fail. As an athlete, Emerson found there was nothing quite as soothing to her aching muscles as a good soak. Choosing a lilac-scented bubble bath, she pushed the rubber stopper into the drain of the old-fashioned claw-foot tub and turned the tap on as hot as it would go.

Her clothes in a pile on the white tile floor, Emerson looked around the small room. She’d successfully avoided any close scrutiny of her mother’s living quarters over the past two days by concentrating on the events that lay ahead of her. But now those events were over, and there was nothing for Emerson to focus on except her departure, which was uncertain as of right now. There was paperwork to deal with, not to mention her mother’s possessions. There was no other family. Caroline had been an only child, and her parents passed away long ago.