Finding Reese (Tremont Lodge Series Book 1) (16 page)

“And she brought me to meet you the summer of 1998—when I was five.”

“Yes, and when Nadia found out I’d had a child out of wedlock she was furious. Of course she had Lawson already…do you know him?”

“Yes. He’s your nephew.”

“Not really. It’s easier to have him refer to me as
uncle
, but I’m not biologically related to him. Still, he’s like a son. Nadia wanted Lawson groomed to be the heir of Tremont Lodge since I didn’t have any children—that she knew of. She was angry with me for being deceitful and your
father
was angry when he found out the real reason for the trip to the lodge as he assumed all along that he was your father. It was easy to understand why they gravitated toward each other. I guess they met during ballroom dance lessons at the old restaurant up on the mountain. That’s one of the reasons I shut that damn restaurant down years ago. Frannie and Nadia had a big fight the night when Frannie caught your father and Nadia being too cozy.” He points to the discarded picture in the trash can. “Anyway, somehow the two women ended up on the chair lift together. Frannie swore it was an accident.” Mr. Oakley shakes his head from side to side, “but I don’t know….” He picks up the picture of Nadia on his desk.

My lips are trembling as I formulate my next question. “Did you kill my mother?”

“Oh, Reese, heavens no. I didn’t kill her. I never had any ill will against her. I just didn’t want…I couldn’t have you in my life—not after all this time. My father would never have forgiven me, and at the time I was still considered a desirable bachelor.” He laughs again. “I suppose my reputation as a curmudgeonly, bitter man started the day my dear Nadia died. So, I promised myself I’d honor her in death by caring for Lawson as if he were my own, and someday he’d take over Tremont Lodge. Only—I’m not so sure I’ve done a good job.”

“Then what happened to my mother?”

“What do you remember about that day?” Though no revelations have been revealed in my mind, I recount Helen’s story of that moment when she found Blake and I alone in the room. He shakes his head in agreement after I tell him the story I’d been told. “As your father told me, he had his doubts about Nadia’s death, too. And that particular day he’d been mulling those thoughts over with alcohol, a lot of alcohol I’ve been told by insiders who saw him at a local bar in town, not to mention the beer bottles that were littered around the room after—. Anyway, as a lot of people did back then, your father carried a gun. He said he held out the gun to Frannie and told her to call the police and tell them that she’d pushed Nadia to her death. There’d been a struggle. The gun went off. She died.”

“Oh my God,” I say, falling forward in my chair. I hold my hand over my heart to will it to slow down.

Mr. Oakley continues. “He was very distraught. I was terrified that the media would be teeming with reporters all over this place, that the reputation of Tremont Lodge was on the line, that he’d talk to someone and spill my dirty secrets.” I think he means that
I’m
a dirty secret which makes me sad. “I paid off the coroner in town to rule your mother’s death an accident. Then your father had her buried at a local cemetery nearby. He took hush money, too. I presume he paid some to his parents to take care of you and your brother.”

“I get that I wasn’t his biological child, but what about Blake? He was a baby.”

“Ahh, money makes people do funny things, Reese.”

“Money makes people do evil things, Mr. Oakley,” I say, staring into his eyes until he’s forced to look at me—to really look at me and see the rage that is brimming under the surface. “You are an evil man.”

“Yes, I am. And, I am so sorry.” He drops his head into his hands and sighs. “I’m sorry. This was never meant to happen. You…you were never supposed to know…”

“That I wasn’t wanted by my father—either of them for that matter? That my mother DIED?”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, barely in a whisper. “But you shouldn’t have come.”

“And you should rot in hell,” I say, leaving him alone as I get up and walk out of the room.

A thousand fireworks are going off in my head, a fuse that’s been lit by a stranger in a chain of events that I can’t control. But more than any other emotion, I feel powerful. I feel like I could conquer the world because now I know, and as awful as the knowledge that fills my soul, it’s always better knowing than not knowing. At least that what I try to trick my heart into believing—for now.

Finn is sitting on a riding mower near the pond, dodging young children who fish with their fathers. I wonder if any of those fathers would trade their children for money. I doubt it. He shuts off the mower when he sees me approaching. Running toward him, I jump on his lap, the mower idling, and kiss him full on the mouth, strong and wanting, and not caring that mothers are shielding their children’s eyes or that a supervisor is walking toward us. I don’t care because I have the truth, and I have Finn.

“Well,” he says when we come up for air. “That was unexpected. I take it the meeting went well.” He grabs my butt and pulls me closer to him.

“It was awful and painful and devastating and—totally unbelievable, but it’s over, and I’m staying. We have the whole summer to sort it out, and no one else is going to get in our way.”

“Then I think we need to celebrate tonight,” he says as he rubs my back. “Hmm…too bad you don’t still have that red dress.”

“You’re so bad,” I say.

“I’m so bad I’m good.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” I kiss him again and jump off the mower just before Finn’s supervisor reaches us. I leave Finn to deal with my intrusion and run back to the lodge to find Helen.

The service elevator is quiet as I ride to the 8
th
floor. Everyone is busy cleaning and readying the rooms for the next guests or refreshing them for guests returning from breakfast or a morning swim. I feel guilty that I’m not working.

The vacuum noise at the end of the hall leads me to Helen. She’s holding the cord in one hand so as not to run it over with the vacuum, a skill I haven’t yet mastered. She pushes off the power button when she sees me.

“Reese, dear, why are you here? Is that…is that smart?” she whispers.

“Helen, I know everything. Do you know everything?”

“I don’t know if I know
everything
, but I know enough. I didn’t expect you to look so—composed.”

“Liberated,” I say. “That’s how I feel, and knowing that everything I came to Tremont to do is done. I came for the truth, and I have it.”

“It’s not that simple, honey,” she says, patting my arm, “But you’ll figure it all out. I’m happy that you have peace.” She hugs me and holds up my maid’s uniform that Lawson had demanded I turn in yesterday. “Does this mean you’re staying?” I nod my head in acceptance.

“Thanks. Point me in the right direction.”

“No, dear, you can’t possibly mean you’re working
today
?”

“If I don’t do something, I’ll go crazy. Helen, I need to clean today more than I’ve needed to in my whole life.”

She laughs. “Well, then clean you must. Just stay away from Mr. Lawson today. No drama—not on my watch, understand?”

“REESE!” Tinley is grabbing me in a giant bear hug from behind before I know what hit me. And the news of the morning continues to spread.

I’m restocking the bathroom in Room 917 with little bottles of shampoo and conditioner with names like
Sunset Breeze
and
Daisy Lilac
when I hear commotion in the hallway. It sounds like a wrecking ball is making its way down the hallway the way the pounding on walls grows closer.

“WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS THAT BITCH?”
Lawson.
I consider locking the bathroom door and hiding until he’s passed, but what do I have to lose? He can’t fire me. I know too much, maybe even more of the truth than he knows. And knowledge is more powerful than position.

In the hall I encounter the madman who has clearly been drinking, not the least of all indicated by the fact that he’s holding an open bottle of whiskey in one hand. “Lower your voice, Lawson. Your guests don’t pay to hear your swear or watch you drool. If they wanted a show like this, they’d have checked into Motel Tremont downtown.

“I fired you,” he says, grabbing my arm and shoving me against a wall. “I just ran into your little friend scrubbing the shit out of my toilet, and she told me you were still here.”

“Get off me!” I push him with all the strength that’s been building this morning, sending him falling to the floor.

“I’m calling the cops,” he says.

“Great. It saves me the dime for reporting drunk and disorderly conduct, intimidation, and threats.”

“I’m…serio…serious. Leave now.” He stumbles back to a standing position, leaning against the wall for support. A young girl runs past us toward the elevator. She turns to look at me, concern written all over her face.

“Lawson…hmm, it’s not Oakley. What is that name on your birth certificate?”

“What?” He pulls himself up straight, his eyes blazing.

I point my finger at his chest, so close I could get intoxicated from the smell of alcohol on his breath. “That’s right. I know who you are. I know you’ve got zero Oakley blood pulsing through those veins, and I know who that woman in the picture frame was, and I know why you’re here, why Mr. Oakley feels indebted to feed your power trip. And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me from sharing that knowledge.”

“The hell there isn’t.” He grabs me by the hair and pulls me into the room I’d just come from, throwing me hard on the bed where I land with my head making contact on the nightstand. For a moment I’m stunned because of the impact of the fall. Then a panic like none other seizes my heart. In the corner of my mind I see a struggle, an argument so loud I cover my ears and tell them to stop, but no one hears me. Then a loud sound, like the noise Daddy’s old car makes sometimes when he’s trying to get it to start. Then it’s quiet, and there’s red—a lot of red next to mommy. And Daddy’s crying. He looks at me looking at the red—and then he runs away. I feel like I’m floating, my fingers numb as I clutch the side of the bed, and I close my eyes.

When I wake up, I am confused. The room is white and sterile. A machine beeps a steady cadence, like the rhythm of my heartbeat. A hand clutches mine. It is warm.

“Reese, thank God. How are you, dear?”

“Helen?”

“Yes, honey, it’s me. How is your head?”

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital. The doctor says you will be fine, just a minor concussion. You can go home as soon as you’re feeling better.”

“Lawson,” I say.

“Yes, a young guest and her father alerted the police to the trouble he was causing. He’s at the police station right now.” I close my eyes and remember—Lawson’s rage, my parents’ rage.

“I saw them, Helen.”

“Who did you see, Reese?”

“I mean, I remembered my parents arguing, the gun going off, the blood…all the blood.”

“Oh, honey.” She reaches down, gathers me in her arms, and lets me cry.

Tinley is very much enjoying her role as gatekeeper to our room at the dormitory. She’s fielding the well-wishes, shooing away the nosy staff, and passing off cards and candy to the growing pile on the nightstand beside my bed. News spreads fast at Tremont Lodge.

Finn hasn’t left my side since he drove me home from the hospital. He’s so fidgety it’s hard to rest as he’s constantly getting up—to bring me water, to bring me a washcloth, to put on another blanket, to take off a blanket. It’s sweet, but he’d be more useful if he were sleeping next to me.

“Finn, why don’t you get ready for your show? There’s nothing more you can do here. I’m fine.”

“I don’t know, Reese.”

“Tinley’s here now, and Bree’s coming later. We’ll probably just watch some dumb chick flick that will bore you to death.”

He feels my forehead with the back of his hand for an imaginary fever. “Are you sure? I can cancel my set tonight.”

“Don’t. Think of all the little girls you’ll disappoint.” He smiles.

“Uh, Reese, you have a visitor,” says Tinley. Finn and I look up at the same time. Mr. Oakley is standing in my room waiting for my permission to move forward. I sit up on my elbows, and Finn tucks a pillow under my back.

“Hi, Reese,” says Mr. Oakley.

“Hello.”

“Can I have a minute alone?” He glances at Tinley and Finn.

“Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of them.”

“Actually, I’m supposed to meet Murphy for dinner. Call me if you need anything. It was really nice seeing you again, Ted. Daddy says
hello.
” Tinley grabs her purse, slips on a pair of red heels to match her red shorts, and closes the door behind her.

“Go ahead,” I say, grabbing hold of Finn’s hand.

“I’ve just seen Lawson.”

“Okay.”

“He’s been falling apart at the seams for a long time now.” I wait for him to continue. “He only learned the truth about his mother this spring when he came across a news article about her death on the chair lift. I…I never told him all of the details. He doesn’t know about what we’ve discussed yet—but I have to tell him.”

“That’s really up to you. I’m not interested in dragging his heart through the mud. As much as I despise Lawson, I don’t see any benefit in taking my heartache and sharing it with the world. I knew I was missing pieces to my life puzzle. If Lawson doesn’t know he’s short a full box, then why let him think any differently? That’s just cruel.”

“You seem like a good person, Reese—despite everything. I suppose the credit should go to your grandparents.” That stings a little because my grandparents did little more than meet my basic needs.

“With all due respect, Mr. Oakley,” says Finn, “I think the credit can just go to Reese herself.”

“You’re a lot like your mother,” says Mr. Oakley. “She was persistent and confident and sure of what she wanted. That included keeping you, you know? Despite her age and my disinterest, she never wavered once in her resolve to have you.”

My heart starts pinging like the sonar on a submarine, calling to mind the roots buried deep inside. “What are you doing here, Mr. Oakley?” I ask.

“I wanted to make sure you were feeling okay. And…and I wanted to give you this.” He holds out a piece of paper. Finn reaches for it and hands it to me.

“What is this?” I ask, staring at an unfamiliar address in Tremont City.

“It’s the name of the cemetery where your mom is buried. I thought you might like to know.” He shoves his shaking hands in the pockets of his suit jacket.

“Th…thanks,” I whisper. Mr. Oakley stands rooted to the floor of my room, not moving. “Is there anything else, Mr. Oakley?”

“Lawson is stepping down from his position as general manager—not by his choice. His image is not healthy for Tremont Lodge right now.”

“That really is of no concern to me anymore,” I say.

“Actually, I think it might be.”

“What are you saying, Mr. Oakley?” asks Finn. He squeezes my hand.

“I’ve thought a lot about this.” He takes a deep breath. “I suppose I could deny it all, say you made up the whole thing if you were to air my past mistakes….” He pauses, and I glance at my purse where the recording of our meeting is securely saved on my phone. “But I’m done hiding. I…I’d like to propose an offer to you.”

“To me?”

“Reese, you are my only blood heir. There’s no reason to deny that anymore. There never should have been had I been man enough to own up to my mistakes—sorry, you know what I mean. I’m not a well man, and I don’t know how much fight I have left….” His eyes wander to my window through which a perfect view of Tremont Lodge can be seen. Right now the lawn is full of families and couples, young and old. People have come from far and near to put aside their troubles for a week and celebrate each other. There is a legacy to be proud of here. “I would like for you to stay here this fall—instead of going back to your college. Finish online or transfer credits to Northern Michigan University, but stay here and work for me—learn the business.” I blink my eyes to ward off the tears, to dull the ache in my head, to try and clear my mind from all of the new questions that are brewing.

“Are you saying that you want me to take over Tremont Lodge? You don’t even know me.”

“I’m saying that I’d like to explore that possibility, get to know you, if that’s something you’re interested in. Whether you like it or not, you are my daughter. Reese,
you are my daughter.
” He repeats the sentence, spoken aloud again perhaps to convince himself of this new reality. “Take some time and think about it. For now, rest and get better. And, Reese—I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, if I could do it all again and make different choices, I would have. I would have chosen you, too.” He lets himself out on his own, and I lie back on my pillow.

“Wow,” says Finn when we are alone again.

“That’s the understatement of the year.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t want to think right now. It’s too overwhelming.” Finn rubs my arm and stares at me, unblinking. “What is it you wanted to tell me earlier?” Finn’s smile fades away.