Zero Visibility (3 page)

There was only Emerson.

The bathroom décor was simple and tasteful, a white base with purple accents. On the wall was a framed photograph of Clark Mountain, the biggest peak in the area, blanketed with an eerie fog.
Must have been taken first thing in the morning
, Emerson thought, having grown up seeing the mountaintop—affectionately dubbed Mount Hank—every morning on her way to school. Still, it was a soothingly calm shot, and it brought back all kinds of memories Emerson had no desire to handle at the moment.

Shaking her head free of recollections, she stepped gingerly into the tub, wincing at the heat of the water and was suddenly hit with a memory so vivid it was like watching it on a movie screen.

Caroline, light hair piled atop her head, lowered herself into a tub filled with steaming water and bubbles, sucking a breath in through her teeth as she did so.

“
Mom, why do you make it so hot if you can’t even get in?” a young Emerson asked with a laugh as she set a clean towel and a glass of wine on the hamper within Caroline’s reach.

“
It does me no good if it’s lukewarm. And it cools off very fast. You don’t want me soaking in a cold tub, do you?” Caroline slowly settled herself all the way in and exhaled with relief. Waving a hand, she said, “Shoo. Let me soak in peace.” Her eyes closed and a ghost of a smile played on her lips.

Emerson settled in now too. A glass of wine was also within her reach. Good wine. Her mother didn’t skimp on many things, and wine was no exception. She took a sip of the rich Zinfandel, let it coat her tongue before swallowing, and stretched her left leg, propping her heel out on the rim of the tub. For the first time in several hours, the throbbing of her knee seemed to ease. She should have taken her pills before she got in the water.

So many people
…

That thought had run through her mind over and over again today. Her mother knew so many people. And so many people obviously loved her. The wake had felt like hours of nonstop mourners; people she didn’t know, people she vaguely remembered, people who expected her to know them. Hundreds of handshakes. Countless hugs, many often awkwardly unwanted. Too many “I’m so sorrys” to count. She closed her eyes, slipped a bit lower in the water, and tried her best to soak the day away. She sighed at what lay ahead. Even though her mother was now laid to rest and Emerson had handled all the niceties with a controlled charm, there were some tough decisions to be made.

The Inn.

The rental property.

Caroline’s possessions. Car, clothes, everything else.

All of it belonged to Emerson now. All of it. And the thing was, Emerson didn’t want it. Any of it. She wished she could simply slap a big For Sale sign out front and fly herself back to L.A. Get back to her life, her job, warm weather.

She reached for the wine glass again, noticing that the blinking green light on her smartphone hadn’t magically stopped blinking in the twenty minutes since she last looked at it. A too-large gulp of wine in her mouth, she set the glass down and picked up the phone.

Six missed calls
, the screen told her.
Four new messages
.

With a growl of annoyance, she punched buttons and signed into her voicemail. She hated this age of electronics, of constant contact. Yes, it was convenient to be able to so easily find information or send an e-mail. But she hated that she could never get away, that she couldn’t just disappear, be out of touch, unreachable.

The first two messages were clients just checking on their orders. Emerson saved them to return later. The third was a weirdly cryptic message from her coworker, Brenda.

“Emmy, call me back as soon as you can. There’s some funky shit going down around here.” It was just like Brenda to blow something out of proportion and then leave a frantic message. Emerson shook her head and deleted the message. The fourth message was a hang-up from a restricted number. Emerson shrugged, tossed the phone aside, and revisited her glass of wine.

There was so much to do tomorrow, but she didn’t want to deal with any of it right now. Right now, she wanted to drink her wine, soak her muscles, and clear her head of all things that reminded her of one clear fact, the reason she was here.

“My mother is dead.” Her whisper seemed loud in the silent room. A lump formed and she swallowed it down. “My mother is dead.”

The air she pushed from her lungs created a channel through the bubbles closest to Emerson’s face. Another sip of wine and she closed her eyes as a profound sadness settled over her.

It took a couple
days for Cassie to resemble her old self again, and by Monday morning, she was ready to get back to life. Mourning had its place, but she wasn’t the kind of person who could stay quietly solitary, crying alone in her apartment. She needed to get out, to share some conversation, offer some help,
do something
to keep her from feeling the pain of what she had lost.

Mary had to be having a difficult time. She’d held on to Cassie so tightly at the funeral. Caroline had been her best friend for years. Hell, they were more like sisters, and Cassie knew that running The Lakeshore Inn all by herself wouldn’t be an easy task for Mary even if she weren’t completely heartbroken. When she opened her eyes first thing that morning, Cassie made the decision to get a few quick things done in the store, leave it to her mother for a couple hours, and pay a visit to Mary, see what she could do to help.

Lake Henry was a very big tourist attraction, but the village itself was rather small, barely two miles square not including the water. The lake was an easy three-point-one miles around and had a lovely brick-paved sidewalk circling the perimeter. Cassie and Gordie walked it religiously.

The morning was sunny and beautiful with a definite scent of autumn in the crisp air. Cassie had donned her usual work uniform of jeans, a quarter-zip fleece—today’s was red—and a down vest. Her ponytail swung back and forth as she and Gordie walked down Main Street greeting locals and tourists alike.

A leash for Gordie wasn’t necessary—he would rarely leave his mistress’s side—but Cassie had found strangers to be much less wary and much more comfortable knowing he was tethered to her. He was a ridiculously friendly dog and wanted to say hello to everybody. The locals all knew and loved him, but there were a few tourists here and there who were not dog people (something Cassie would never understand), and they’d get a particular expression of anticipated fear when they saw his furry face with its mismatched eyes and no leash.

“Can I pet your dog?”

A child’s voice pulled Cassie’s attention downward to a girl of about six, holding her mother’s hand and waiting politely for an answer before reaching toward Gordie.

“Gordie, sit,” Cassie commanded, and her dog immediately did as he was told, though it was obvious from the excited tension in his body that it was all he could do to keep from bathing the little girl’s face with kisses. Cassie squatted down and said to the girl, “You sure can, and thank you for asking first.”

The sun glinted off perfect blonde ringlets as the girl tentatively reached one hand toward Gordie, the other holding tightly to her mother who smiled down at them.

“Is he blind?” the girl asked quietly, as if worried about insulting the dog. “In this eye?” She pointed to Gordie’s one blue eye.

Cassie grinned. “No, but lots of people think he is. It’s just that his mommy had brown eyes, and his daddy had blue eyes, so they each gave him one.”

The girl seemed to absorb this as she stroked Gordie’s soft head. Then she smiled widely and pronounced, “That’s cool.” After another moment, she thanked Cassie and placed a gentle kiss on Gordie’s head before continuing on her way with her mother, waving as she went.

“Bye,” Cassie called, then gave Gordie a gentle tug. “Good boy.”

It was strange to arrive at The Lakeshore Inn and momentarily forget that Caroline Rosberg would not be at the counter. Cassie went from smiling to almost hesitant in a mere millisecond and had to stop outside the office door and collect herself before proceeding in.

Mary stood behind the counter, her hands folded neatly in front of her, forearms on the counter, gaze focused somewhere out the window and over the water. She seemed to be much more in control than she’d been the last two times Cassie had seen her, but of course, she was far from her old, cheerful self.

“Morning, Mary,” Cassie said more quietly than she normally would. Mary jumped anyway, and pressed a hand to her chest. “Sorry,” Cassie added, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. “I was trying not to scare you.”

A smile crossed Mary’s face then, and Cassie returned it. “Hi there, Cassandra. How are you this morning?” Her eyes fell toward the floor and she saw Gordie. “And there’s my boy. Come here, handsome.” Gordie looked up at Cassie, who unclipped his leash.

“Go ahead. She’s going to spoil you, you know.”

Mary bent down to put her arms around the dog, and not for the first time, Cassie was so grateful for Gordie. He knew how to make just about anybody feel better. She followed the woman and dog behind the counter and back into the kitchen.

“How are you?” Cassie asked as she watched Mary give Gordie one of the all-natural treats she left in the kitchen specifically for him.

“Oh, you know,” Mary replied, her focus still on the dog. “It’s hard. There’s so much to do, and we’re completely booked for the next couple of months, and…” With a deep sigh, she lifted her arms out and let them drop back to her sides. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Cassie nodded. “I know. It’s so weird to be here and know she’s not.” They each took a moment to gather themselves. Then Cassie said, “Well, I’m here to help. Mom’s got the store under control, so we’re at your service for a couple hours, me and Gordie. What do you need?”

“Oh, you dear girl.” Mary stepped forward, took Cassie’s face in her hands, and kissed her on the cheek.

The side door opened just then, startling both of them. Cassie recognized Caroline’s daughter, Emerson, dressed in baggy, gray drawstring pants and a loose black T-shirt, as she stepped into the room.

“Sorry,” Emerson said quietly. “I don’t mean to interrupt.” She cleared her throat and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s, um, no coffee in the cottage.”

“No, your mother was a tea drinker.” Mary gestured to the full pot on the counter. “Help yourself. Mugs are in the cupboard above. Sugar’s right there. Cream in the fridge.”

“Thanks.” Emerson busied herself fixing a cup, and Cassie studied her from behind. There had been so many people at the services, Cassie’d never gotten the chance to really
look
at Emerson. Her blonde hair was cut short and exposed a long, elegant neck. The cotton pants hugged what looked to be a very pleasing figure, slim hips, and long legs. She was tall—a good three or four inches taller than Cassie, which would put her around five-ten. And today she was wearing what Cassie recognized as Caroline’s fuzzy slippers instead of the heels that had made her that much taller at her mother’s services. Gordie positioned himself to Emerson’s right, sat, and waited politely for her to notice him, which she did.

“Hey, dog,” she whispered, gave him a pat on the head.

“Emerson, have you met Cassie Prescott?” Mary asked by way of introduction.

Emerson turned to regard Cassie with the most beautiful ice-blue eyes Cassie had ever seen. “Hi,” she said and held out a hand.

Cassie took it and held on to its surprising warmth, not wanting to point out that they’d met at both the wake and the funeral services, and also attended the same high school, albeit three years apart. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”

“Thank you.” There was a beat of awkward silence, then Emerson let go of Cassie’s hand. She gave an uncomfortable half-wave, murmuring, “Well. I’ve got to get back,” and left the way she’d come, the mug of coffee in her hand. Mary and Cassie watched her go, and a moment passed before Mary turned to Cassie and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know what to make of that girl,” she said, almost to herself.

“Why do you say that?” Cassie asked as she followed Mary back out to the counter.

Mary shook her head. “I sometimes feel like she’s never been here before. The way she walks around all fish-out-of-water? You’d never know she grew up here. Not only that, she was a minor celebrity. She called Caroline of course, but the last time she was here was five years ago.”

“Five years?” Cassie was stunned. “I didn’t know it had been that long. I can’t imagine not seeing my mom for five years.”

“Well, Caroline visited her once or twice in California, but that was it. She missed Emmy so much.” Mary’s voice was soft.

“What will happen to the inn?” Cassie was almost afraid to ask, but it was something she’d been wondering for a couple days now.

“I’m not sure.” Mary’s gaze was fixed on the monitor as she tapped some keys on the computer. “I know Caroline had a will, but I’m also pretty sure she didn’t think she’d be gone so soon. I don’t know how up-to-date it is.” She swallowed audibly. “I imagine it will be passed to Emerson. God, I hope she didn’t leave it to Fredrik, that ass.” She grimaced at the mention of Caroline’s ex and Emerson’s father as she tapped a few more keys. “Okay. Here we go.” She shifted noticeably from quiet sadness to business. “Rooms three, five, and six are all checking out this morning, so they’ll need to be cleaned. Two of them will have new guests by three.”

As if on cue, a middle-aged couple entered the sitting room and set their suitcases near one of the leather couches.

“Ugh,” the woman said, leaning heavily on the counter. “We don’t want to leave. Don’t make us.”

Mary smiled. “You are welcome back any time, Mrs. Todd.” As Mary typed on the computer and printed out the couple’s final bill, Gordie sat next to Cassie’s feet, his whole body thrumming with the desire to greet these people.

“Stay,” Cassie commanded softly.

The woman heard and peeked over the counter. “Oh my god, he’s beautiful. Is he an Aussie?”

Cassie nodded, then said to Gordie, “Okay. Go say hi.”