Finding Reese (Tremont Lodge Series Book 1) (5 page)

“That is the best story ever,” I say. I pick the label off my second bottle of beer and hand it to Finn.

“What’s this for?” he asks.

“A raincheck,” I say.

“For?”

“Well, the real story goes that if a girl gives you her beer label, you’ll get lucky, but let’s save it for something a bit tamer.” Finn lets go of my hand and rubs his chin, hiding his mouth behind his hand. I wonder if I’ve said too much, but he has a huge grin when he puts his hand down on the table.

“Do we have to save it?”

“Yep. I’m supposed to meet Bree at the top of the mountain tonight.”

“Can I go with you?” he asks. I put my hand over my heart and realize I need to pull the top of my dress up—and that my heart is beating quickly.

“There’s…there’s something I need to do when I’m there, and it might seem weird to you, so maybe you don’t—.”

“I do. I will.” He stammers his reply. “Can’t be any weirder than starting this date with you face palming another guy, could it?” I smile. Talking with Finn is like putting on a comfy pair of pajamas on the coldest winter day.
Easy. Familiar.

After Finn pays the bill and I leave the tip, we walk towards the employee chair lift. There is a steady murmur of conversation coming from the lodge grounds. This is what relaxation sounds like. I can understand why Finn couldn’t stay away.

“So, what’s it like with the constant turnover of staff?” I ask as we climb aboard the ski lift. He slings his arm over the back of the chair, his fingers grazing my shoulder.

“I like it. There’s never a dull moment, and usually a pretty predictable pattern develops.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every June the new staff arrives. They party crazy the first few weeks. There’s a lot of hormones flying around setting off radar as both sexes size each other up. Lots of great summer relationships end in heartache come August, but, dare I say, some of life’s best memories are created in a summer at the Tremont.”

“And you’re privy to your own summer relationships?” I ask, not sure why a pang of jealousy goes off in my head.

“I’ve had some good times, if that’s what you mean.” I don’t say anything, suddenly feeling like the next summer-conquest-in-waiting. “Reese? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I say.

“What about you? Is the Tremont everything you expected it to be?” I sigh as I watch a couple on the twin ziplines below us trying to race each other to the end of their lines.

“It’s nothing like I thought it would be at all,” I answer truthfully. Now we’re at the top of the mountain. I don’t miss my dismount this time.

“I’ll get us some drinks. Do you want anything special?” Finn asks.

“Something tame,” I say.

Bree is playing horseshoes in a pit a few feet from the old restaurant. She calls out to me. I wave. “Want to play?” she asks. I start to say
no
when I hear Lawson from behind me.

“She’ll play because she has an unbeatable partner.” I scrunch up my face in a most unflattering way, I’m sure.

“You will not tell me what I will or will not do.”

“Whoa, tiger, settle down. I was only joking, but I am pretty damn good. There’s a horseshoe tournament at the end of the summer. The winners get their names on a plaque that’s hanging inside over there.” He points to the building. You should see for yourself. My name’s been on that plaque for the last three years, and no doubt it will be back after this summer, too, no matter who my partner is.”

“If it doesn’t matter who your partner is, then it won’t matter that I’m turning you down.”

“That’s okay, the tournament isn’t until August. You’ll change your mind by then.” Lawson puts his arm around a redhead who puts her hand on his butt in return, turning to glare at me as if to say
back off.
I couldn’t care less who Lawson partners with.

I walk into the old restaurant, looking for the bathroom. I pass the tattered booths, all of them having seen better days, and imagine what this room must have been like in its heyday. Bustling wait staff running between the crowded tables, serving drinks and bringing heaping plates of piping hot food, nothing but the finest meats and fish with in-season vegetables and baskets of bread. Guests would be dressed in their Sunday finest, and laughter—lots of laughter—would have filled the room. I sink into the closest booth, rest my head against the wall, and close my eyes. I squeeze them shut and try to force a memory. Surely, I’ve been here before. Surely, we were a happy family once. Why did it end? Why did my parents abandon Blake and me at Tremont Lodge? Where did my family go?

“Reese?” I hear my name, but it’s whispered like from another dimension, not sinking into my reality. I take a deep breath and blow it out through my mouth. A light touch on my arm makes me shudder. I open my eyes.

“Oh, man, Finn, I’m sorry. This must…I must look…sorry.”

“It’s okay, Reese. I know you said you had something to do here. Does…does being in the old restaurant have to do with that?” He sets a glass of lemonade in front of me.

“Kind of. Maybe. I’m not really sure what I’m doing, Finn.” My chest feels tight like I can’t catch my breath. I try to breathe deeply through my nose again, but I can’t. Instead it feels like I am suffocating with my inability to breathe normally. I know I’m having a panic attack. It’s happened before. In fact, for years the attacks have been sporadic and at the most unexpected times, like in third grade right before the school play where I acted the part of a colonial mother. Grandma had rushed backstage and made me breathe into a paper bag, but I’d been too upset to deliver my lines, so my teacher read my lines from offstage. Then at eighth grade graduation, right before my name was called, I’d run out the back door of the gym behind the stage because I thought I might throw up in front of everyone. The diploma had been delivered the next morning by the principal. Then during that trip to Spain my junior year, I’d had a panic attack going through customs thinking they weren’t going to let me back into the country and I’d be abandoned…again. No amount of therapy has been able to stop the attacks, but they have lessened—until lately when the stress of the possibility of the unknown is sometimes too great to bear. I grab the lemonade and start drinking, concentrating on each swallow as if to trick my brain into thinking that my life is normal, that nothing evil or sad lurks under the surface, buried from my own ability to remember for whatever reason.

When I finish the lemonade, I realize I am leaning on Finn’s chest. His heartbeat echoes in my ear, the rhythm comforting. He is stroking my hair. “Oh, Finn. I am so sorry. I should leave.” I try to get up, but I feel dizzy. He pulls me back down.

“You have nothing to feel sorry for. And you’re not going anywhere alone.”

“Then let me go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face.” Finn’s face reads of worry and concern.

“Promise me you won’t go sneaking off.” I nod my head and walk toward the bathroom. In the hallway I pass the horseshoe tournament plaque with Lawson’s name at the top along with a different girl for each of the last three years. Then, right before the bathroom, I see a line of old pictures from Tremont Lodge. The first few pictures are of this restaurant, proving the theory that this was once a bustling hub of activity and joy. I look closer, trying to read the faces of the happy guests and trying to understand why they no longer use the restaurant with the great view of the valley below. Then I see something in one of the pictures that sets panic on fire within my chest. It seizes hold of my body as a sensation of falling overwhelms me.

“What if we throw water in her face?” I hear a distant voice that keeps getting louder.

“That’s just what they do in the movies.”

“Well, you have to do
something,
Finn.”

“REESE! WAKE UP!” Someone shakes my shoulders, and I blink my eyes wide open.

“Thank goodness.” It’s Bree, and she is crouching over me with a panicked look on her face.

“What happened?” I ask.

“You tell us,” says Finn, who helps me to a sitting position. “Did you even make it to the bathroom?” he asks.

“The bathroom?” Then I remember, and I look up from the floor to the pictures that hang on the wall above us. Bree follows my gaze.

“What is it, Reese?” she says. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think I did,” I whisper. If a hundred rocks were being thrown at me right now, they couldn’t cause more pain than what I’m feeling in my head. I try to stand up but feel the energy drained from my legs. Finn bends over my feet and takes off my wedge sandals.

“Maybe heels weren’t a great idea,” he says.

“You should have seen the shoes Tinley wanted me to wear,” I say.

“I could only imagine,” he grins. Then he turns to Bree. “I’ll make sure Reese gets back to her room. Thanks for getting me when you found her.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m sure.”

“Reese?” she says.

“Bree, go. This is all so stupid. I never should have involved any of you in my mess. Just go. Have fun. I’ll see you on the elevator in the morning.” She smiles, nods her head, and leaves us sitting against the wall in the hallway to the bathroom. People pass by with odd looks, but I don’t really care. I’ve just found the first proof that I’ve been seeking—that I’ve been to this restaurant before. But now what?

“Let’s try getting you up again, okay?” asks Finn. He puts an arm under my elbow and gently stands up. I brace my hand against the other wall. The pounding in my head rattles around before settling into a dull ache behind my right temple. I stare past Finn to the picture on the wall behind him. “Tell me.” He whispers in my ear, so close that I shiver involuntarily and goosebumps pop out on my arm. I shake my head
no.
“Please, Reese.” I squeeze my eyes tight because I don’t want to start crying.

“You wouldn’t understand. Hell, I don’t even understand.”

“Try me.” When I open my eyes, Finn is leaning over me with one hand on the wall behind me and the other on my waist. His breath is fruity, like he’s been drinking my lemonade. I point to the wall behind him. He takes his hand off my waist and turns around to look at the picture.

In the picture, the restaurant is packed. There are people in every booth and at every table. The spaces between are filled with wait staff to cater to the guests.  A band is playing on a small stage in the center of the room—a singer, a guitar player, a keyboardist, and a drummer. If guests aren’t eating, they are watching the band…or watching the little girl who is dancing to the band in the only open space in the restaurant, right in front of the guitar player. And that little girl is me. I know it for sure because I’m wearing the sailor dress I’d been wearing the day that picture of our family was taken at Tremont Lodge. My hair is styled with two perfectly springy pigtails, and red patent leather shoes grace my feet. A man at a nearby table is clapping. The man is my father. He’s easily identifiable by the cigarette that hangs from his mouth and the receding hairline of his once plush brown head of hair. There is a woman sitting next to my father, her hand draped casually and familiarly over his broad shoulders. She has long blonde hair and a tight dress, her cleavage in full view, even from the picture. She is not my mother. I can’t stop the tears this time. They don’t rush out in heaving sobs, but their silent sting hurts my heart no less.

Finn looks at the picture, and follows my finger to the little girl at the foot of the stage—me. He looks confused. I so understand. “Do you know her?” he asks. I shake my head
yes.

“Was she a relative?” I shake my head
no.

“That’s me.” Finn seems to relax, his shoulders falling from the tension I’d caused him.

“Oh, that’s cool. I didn’t know you’d been to Tremont before. What was it like back then?”

“I…I don’t remember.”

“Are you sure that’s you then?” he asks.

“Positive. And that’s my father.” I point to him.

“Cool. And that hot babe must be your mother.” He laughs, and the butterfly on his neck takes flight.

“No,” I say.

“Oh, Reese. Man, I am so sorry. I get it now. You think your dad was messing with some other woman at the lodge. How ironic that you saw that picture. I mean, how did you know it would be here?”

“I didn’t, but I knew…I knew that I’d been here—.” I realize how much I don’t really want to be here at all right now. This was all a huge mistake. I should never have opened my mouth. No one knows my secrets.
No one.
Hell, even my own grandparents won’t talk about my parents. How could I be so stupid? The desire to fling myself off this mountain is very strong right now, though I’d never really do something so selfish, but I need to be alone—now. I start to walk away from Finn, leaving my shoes on the ground behind me.

“No you don’t,” he says. “You are not leaving this mountain alone.”

“I should never have involved you in my mess, Finn. Thanks for your help and all, but I have to go.”

“And I’m going with you.” He grabs my hand, and I bat it away.

“Dammit, Reese. At least let me get you down the mountain.” As I trip over a chair that’s been pulled out and almost go headfirst into a table, only catching myself before causing more pain than a stubbed toe, I relent.