Dark Water: A Siren Novel (9 page)

“I didn’t do anything.” I tried to smile as my thumb traced his jawline. “Nothing worth mentioning to anyone else anyway. And I’d really, really appreciate it if you—if we—kept this morning to ourselves. Would that be okay?”

He swallowed. Nodded. His eyes lowered from my eyes to my lips. As his face neared mine, I turned my head and focused on the sun’s glinting across the ocean’s surface. His mouth landed near my temple and lingered there. I gave it a few seconds for good measure before sitting up and explaining I had to get ready for work.

Back in my bedroom, I watched him go. He wandered around the beach a minute, as if confused about why he was
there, but then he focused on the kayaks and started dragging them across the sand. When he was out of sight, I dashed to the bathroom to shower and dress. My energy was holding, which helped lessen, though not eliminate, the sting of guilt.

Ten minutes later, I hurried through the house, looking for my parents. Despite the many glass walls, it was still possible to miss each other as you moved from one room to the next, so I tried calling both their cell phones once I reached the empty kitchen. When the calls went to voice mail, I headed for the garage to check for their car—and found a note and a separate envelope taped to the door.

Below Mom’s neat handwriting, Dad had added a separate message in his crooked chicken scratch.

Electric windows? A functioning defroster? Buckle up?

I had to give them credit. Because if they’d been home when I opened the door and found the brand-new, forest green Jeep Wrangler in the garage, I wouldn’t have climbed in. Or taken the key from the envelope and turned the ignition. But since they weren’t and I had to get to work somehow, I did.

I grinned as the engine rumbled to life. I’d never had my own car before; the closest I’d come was Dad’s ancient Volvo, which I used until it wheezed to a slow, final stop last spring. Because we were supposed to spend a lot of time together this summer, the plan had been to share the SUV—or so I’d thought. I realized now my parents had probably decided to do this months ago. Maybe even as soon as I’d been accepted to Dartmouth. After all, were they really going to drive me to and from New Hampshire for every break or new semester?

But new cars weren’t cheap. Could they afford such a generous gift, especially with Mom taking such a long leave of absence from her job? And when they were concerned about selling the lake house so we could pay for the beach house?

Get over it. That’s what Justine would say if she were here. She’d tell me it was their decision and they wouldn’t do it if
they couldn’t. For further reassurance, I told myself that the gift wasn’t extravagant; it was practical. Safe, reliable transportation would help my parents as much as it helped me. So after calling their cell phones and leaving long, grateful messages, I buckled up and backed out of the garage.

I’d found the Jeep with the top down and as I sped toward Betty’s, the moist, salty air provided a fresh infusion of energy. I felt so good, I even managed not to dwell on everything that had happened prior to finding the note taped to the garage door. It had been a fluke, a onetime thing. Now that Colin had taken what he’d come for, I’d never again emerge from the water to find him waiting for me. Which meant I’d never again be shocked, instantly drained, and in desperate need of his attention.

“Vanessa!” Paige waved and jogged toward me as I pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “Thank goodness you’re here!”

I stopped near the entrance and hopped out.

“Nice ride.” Paige smiled as she checked out the Jeep. “Beamer in the shop?”

“Beamer’s with the parents. This is actually—”

I was cut off by a loud bang. Paige spun around. I looked past her to see one of the construction workers shrug sheepishly as he lifted the wood plank he’d just dropped onto the new porch.

“They’ve made a lot of progress,” I said. The porch appeared to be complete except for missing railings, and the front of the restaurant had been given another coat of purple paint.

“Yeah.” Paige nodded. “I think one of the new guys has a
little thing for me. It’s amazing what some old-fashioned flirting can do.”

I looked at her. She started toward the restaurant.

“So we had a minor catastrophe first thing this morning,” she called behind her as I hurried to catch up. “Carla came in twenty minutes before her shift started and Louis went ballistic.”

“Because she was early? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Usually.” Reaching the porch, Paige gave the cute, young construction worker a quick smile. He dropped the wood plank again and lunged across the porch to open the door. “Unfortunately, it was pre-caffeine for our favorite chef—and he let everyone know it.”

The worker held the door open for me, too. I kept my eyes lowered as I thanked him and followed Paige inside.

“Anyway, Carla had a total meltdown. I tried to do damage control, but I was home when it happened and by the time I got here, it was too late.”

“Louis fired her?”

We stopped in the dining room doorway. Paige turned to me and cocked one eyebrow.

“Right,” I said. “That’s your job.”

“And I didn’t do it. She was a bit emotional, but I actually thought she had potential.”

“So what happened?”

“She quit. Leaving us with zero servers right before the breakfast rush.”

“There was a rush?” I asked.

“Well, no. But I was hoping for one.” She held up her phone. “That’s why the emergency meeting and countless texts. I had to rearrange schedules and keep the remaining waitstaff calm. The tips haven’t exactly been rolling in, so they were already on edge. I was afraid they’d all jump ship—some of them did—and that you and I’d have to do double duty.”

“You know I’d be happy to help however you needed me to.”

“I do, thank you. But fortunately, that won’t be necessary.”

She tilted her head back. I leaned to the left and looked past her to the bar … where a pretty blonde was polishing glasses.

“Natalie?” I said.

Paige’s eyes lit up. “You know her?”

“I met her. She came in for lunch the other day.”

“Well, she came in for breakfast today—just as Carla was tearing off her apron and storming out. There was a family here who’d been seated but hadn’t ordered and a couple still waiting to be seated, and no one was helping them. So Natalie did.”

“What about Louis?” I asked. “And the other staff? They couldn’t have filled in?”

“Sure they could’ve. And if Louis hadn’t been so busy howling about how no one quits on him, and if the rest of the staff hadn’t been cowering in the corner of the kitchen, maybe they would’ve.”

I watched Natalie rearrange wine goblets and shuffle shot glasses. She moved quickly, confidently, like she’d spent quite a bit of time behind a bar counter.

“She worked at the same restaurant back home in Vermont for five years,” Paige said, as if reading my mind. “She’s here for the summer because her dad insisted they have one last father-daughter adventure before she leaves for college in the fall.”

“Then why has she come here alone both times?”

Paige looked at me. “Because he was swimming? Napping? Reading the newspaper? And she had time to kill?” She studied my face, which reddened under her gaze. “Vanessa … is something wrong?”

I started to say no but stopped. I’d heard the suspicion in my voice, too, and denying something was up would only invite more questions that I didn’t know how to answer. Paige knew me too well to let it slide.

“Sorry,” I said. “Weird morning, that’s all.”

She stood up straight. Her eyes widened. “Was it the orange truck? Did it follow you here?”

“No, thankfully. I haven’t seen it again since that night.” I’d told Paige about the chase because I had to tell someone and didn’t want to worry my parents. Also, with the exception of last year, she’d been a full-time Winter Harbor resident her whole life; I thought she might have some idea who the truck belonged to. She didn’t, but said she’d keep her eyes and ears open. “I just didn’t feel great and it took longer than usual to get going.”

“Thank goodness. About the truck, not about—”

“Got it.” I smiled. “How’ve you been, by the way?”

“What do you mean?”

I waited for a busboy to pass before lowering my voice and continuing. “Physically, since we’ve been back. Do you feel any differently here than you did in Boston?”

She considered this. “Not really. Maybe a bit more tired, but only because thinking about this restaurant stuff keeps me awake at night. Everything else feels pretty normal.” She paused. “Why? Do you?”

I didn’t want to give her something else to worry about unnecessarily, so I shook my head. “Just tired, too. But I guess it’s to be expected, considering the new house and moving and everything.”

“Absolutely.” She took my hand. “Come on. I know what’ll help.”

She led me through the dining room. As we passed the bar, Natalie’s head was hidden behind an open cabinet door. Paige, apparently deciding formal introductions could wait, breezed by without slowing down.

In the kitchen, she instructed me to sit on a stool by the meat freezer while she dodged Louis, who was quiet but still cranky, and gathered food. Two minutes later, she handed me a plastic tray and sat on the stool next to mine.

“Bagel with seaweed-infused cream cheese, fries, iced water, and an extra-large coffee. All coated, dipped, or filled with salt.”

I followed her finger as it pointed at different dishes. “This should be the most unappetizing, inedible meal I’ve ever been served.”

“But?” Paige asked.

“It’s perfect.”

She stayed with me while I ate and kept an eye on Louis to make sure he didn’t terrify anyone else into leaving. We kept the conversation light, talking about my Jeep and her plans to paint the lobby and build flower boxes. It had been days and we still hadn’t returned to the topic of what I’d overheard at the open house, but that was fine with me. I was hoping it was a fluke—and one we could eventually forget.

I’d felt fine when I’d arrived, but after eating and visiting with my best friend, I felt even better. In fact, Colin could burst into the kitchen and declare his love for me right then … and my heart wouldn’t even skip a beat.

As it happened, Colin didn’t burst into the kitchen. Natalie did.

“Someone’s here about a takeout order?” she said. “Cute guy with glasses?”

I lowered my coffee cup. Louis tossed Natalie two brown paper bags. She disappeared back through the swinging door.

“Cute guy,” Paige said, after a pause. “With glasses.”

I nodded, sipped.

“Don’t you want to say hi?”

I did. So much so, it was taking every calorie of energy I’d just consumed to keep from leaping off the stool and flying from the kitchen. But I couldn’t help thinking about what Dad had said about Mom, and I didn’t know if I should.

“The ball’s in his court,” I explained. “I can’t jump the net.”

“But he knows you’re here. If he didn’t want to see you, he wouldn’t have come inside.” Paige shrugged. “I’m no athlete … but that sounds like a serve to me.”

I put down the cup and handed her the tray. “Be right back.”

I dashed into the dining room. As I passed the mirrored wall behind the bar, I made the mistake of checking my appearance. Driving with the top down had dried my shoulder-length brown hair into a network of knots and tangles. And I’d been in such a hurry to get here, I hadn’t stopped to put on mascara and lip gloss, the two basic touch-ups every girl needed to make before going out in public—or so Justine had always said. Both my brush and makeup were home, so the best I could do was pinch my cheeks and force my fingers through my hair as I headed for the lobby.

I needn’t have made the effort. By the time the front door came into view, Caleb—not Simon—was already passing through it. Through the window, I watched him lower sunglasses—not eyeglasses—from the top of his head to in front of his eyes as he walked to the Subaru.

“I know that look.”

I turned to Natalie. In my disappointment, I’d forgotten she was there.

“Actually, I
own
that look.”

I tried to smile. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She leaned against the hostess stand, pulled on a thin chain around her neck. A small silver circle with a single diamond slid out from beneath her tank top.

“My boyfriend proposed to me two months ago,” she said.

“Wow.” I couldn’t tell if I was more surprised, since she was my age, or envious. “Congratulations.”

She hooked the ring on the tip of her thumb, twirled it with her pointer finger. “We’d been together three years but I still thought we should wait. He didn’t, and I loved him too much to put up a fight. His point was that we knew we were always going to be together, so what difference did it make when we made it official?”

I nodded, wondering why she was telling me this, but too curious to ask and potentially prevent her from continuing.

“Anyway, we decided to get married at the end of the summer. A big thing—two hundred people, ice sculptures, a reception at his family’s house on Lake Champlain.”

“Sounds nice,” I said.

She looked up from the ring. “It does, doesn’t it? And it would’ve been … if he hadn’t called it off three weeks ago.”

“Why?” I asked. I couldn’t help it.