Loving Reese (Tremont Lodge Series Book 2) (9 page)

“Well, I hope you are happy, Sam. Because everyone just saw my dress now.” She pivots toward the bathroom where she slams the door behind her.

“This is all your fault,” she says to me. “You are ruining my wedding. Seat my guests outside immediately. There will be no rain. Nobody will ruin this day. It’s the…happiest day of my life.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” I mumble to myself as I walk back into the ballroom to redirect the guests to the lawn, and, most likely, to the scene of panic that will begin in—I glance toward the sky—approximately a half hour.

I radio to Marge to have staff stationed near the patio doors so that guests can be rushed inside when the downpour begins. Then I radio Ted who promised to be available if I needed anything today, though I’d sworn off needing his help. And after our encounter this morning, I’m not sure he even wants to talk to me.

“Reese, what’s the matter?” he asks, the frequency of the radio crackling because of the impending storm.

“I’m reporting that the bride has been advised to hold the wedding indoors and is refusing to listen to me.” There is a pause on the other end. “Which means, Ted, that in about half an hour two hundred people are going to be running for the lodge in a deluge of rain with bits of thunder and lightning thrown in for fun.”

“And you advised the bride of this?”

“Yep.”

“Then let the party begin. I’ll be down shortly.”

“No! I’ve got this under control. Trust me.”

“I do, Reese. I trust you more than you know. Call me if the shit hits the fan.”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling, because maybe Ted and I are closer to the same page in the book of our intertwined lives than I thought and because he’s probably correct about his assessment of how the next hour is going to go down.

I have a brief conversation with Anthony, assuring him that
when
the downpour begins, I will have a plan in place to usher the guests inside as quickly as possible and that his darling betrothed is fully aware of the imminence of the rain. I know I could trump her wishes by insisting, for safety and liability reasons, the wedding be moved inside, but I have a point to prove with the princess, and I can’t wait to catch sight of the first drops of rain and her reaction to them.

Helen and I move tables in the ballroom to make a clear path for guests entering the room in a hurry. We also call maintenance to have floor mats delivered pronto to lessen the chance of people slipping as they cross the dance floor with wet shoes. I peek outside to see the ushers seating guests. Several guests are carrying small umbrellas. At least they heed the warnings.

One of the ushers enters the room to tell me that all of the guests have been seated. Then he proceeds to tell me how batshit crazy Samantha is, and I just smile and nod my head in agreement and wonder if he means just about her wanting to have the wedding outside or in general.

“Anyone wanting a good-as-new phone?”

I turn around and see Finn standing behind me holding out my phone. “You have great timing,” I say, kissing him quickly on the cheek. “Hold on to it for a few more minutes. We’re about to have some excitement around here.”

Finn watches me send the groomsmen and Anthony out the side door to the front of the chairs next to the trellis that is blowing precariously back and forth with the winds flirting to destroy this day. I take another deep breath and push open the door to the women’s temporary dressing room. Samantha is the last one to follow me out of the room. She pauses before moving further when she sees Finn setting up his music on the stand beside the dance floor.

“Finn,” she says, oblivious to all of the girls in the room waiting for her cue to start walking down the grassy aisle. “You came for me,” she whispers, though I am the only one close enough to hear her.

“Come on, Sam. It’s looking nasty out there,” says a sensible bridesmaid. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes, let’s,” she says quietly, waving
goodbye
toward Finn who hasn’t even acknowledged her presence. She squares her shoulders and looks at me. “Well, let’s go then. Tell someone to start the music.”

I give the signal and the bridesmaids start their walk toward the front of the guests. Samantha’s uncle meets her by the door and takes her arm to walk her toward Anthony. I don’t know why she doesn’t have a father to walk her down the aisle, but a pang in my heart empathizes with Samantha for a split second, but then I remember how she tried to seduce my boyfriend and the empathy shakes loose.

I slip outside and stand at the back of the chairs. Helen hands me her phone which reminds me that Finn still has mine. She has pulled up the radar which is showing the storm almost directly overhead, though I didn’t really need to see it on a screen as the wind is whipping bows off the chairs, and pots of planted flowers are crashing off of pedestals to the ground. Just as the white linen covering of the trellis flies off in the direction of the pool, the minister takes the rings in her hand, blesses them, and passes them back to Samantha and Anthony, substituting their repeated vows with a
yes
or
no
reply to her quickly stated questions. She pronounces them husband and wife, and the guests are already getting up to come inside before Samantha and Anthony have even walked down the aisle. Their first kiss is met by a crack of lightning, and the clouds open, a deluge of water falling over the wedding party and guests alike, sending everyone scurrying for the ballroom. I have already opened both doors that lead inside, and Helen and I do our best to direct guests away from the door toward the back of the room. The only unanticipated problem: Everyone is in such a hurry to get inside that they forget that perhaps the wedding party and new bride and groom should be allowed inside first. Though the exodus happened rather quickly and without anyone slipping and falling and avoiding a lawsuit against the lodge, by the time the bridesmaids reach the door, several in the arms of various groomsmen, they are drenched. But the wettest looking of all is Samantha. Her once perfectly manicured ringlets are now soggy, hanging in shards of wet hair plastered against her face that is streaked with heavy black mascara, making her look like one of those scary Halloween goth brides that preteen girls dress as to scare the boys in the neighborhood. And she is one angry goth bride.

“Why the hell didn’t you let me inside first?” she yells as soon as she sees me wiping the floor with a mop.

To engage or not to engage. That is the question.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I decide to speak to Anthony who is standing next to his gruesome bride and rubbing her back to calm her down. “Mr. Warren,
Mrs.
Warren insisted the wedding be held outside as we discussed. It was the guests who made a beeline for the ballroom without considering her feelings. I’m afraid you’ll have to take that up with them. I understand her feelings, however, as she needs…uh, assistance. Please feel free to take as much time as you need in the preparation room. We can feed the guests first and do the cake cutting later.”

“But the cake cutting was supposed to happen first.” Samantha stomps her foot like she’s a toddler having a tantrum. I believe she’d be on the floor slamming her fists into the ground if Anthony weren’t helping to hold her up.

“Sometimes plans change,” Anthony says, looking down at his new wife with the sweetest look of love and concern.

“They certainly do,” she spits back. “Nothing
ever
goes the way I want it to.” Then she stomps through the crowd of guests and into the prep room, slamming the door behind her. Her bevvy of bridesmaids rush in behind her, and I ask Helen to order fresh towels and toiletries to be brought down immediately. Nothing a little fresh makeup can’t fix. That—and a couple bottles of wine, perhaps. I order the wine myself at the bar and ask Marge to deliver it to the women while I imbibe in a glass myself to calm my rattled nerves.

“Are you okay?” asks Finn as I wait outside the ballroom for the towels. He looks so cute tonight in a gray linen suit and pink bow tie. I wish we didn’t have to spend our night together at someone else’s wedding, especially the wedding of an ex-lover.

“Oh, sure. I’m swell.”

“Mr. Oakley isn’t going to fire you, you know?”

“I know. He was expecting something like this, but I can’t control the decisions of stupid people.” I glance at Finn’s face to try and read a reaction. “Honestly, I don’t know what you saw in that girl.”

“It’s complicated, Reese. She wasn’t always such a prima donna. She’s had a lot of heartache in her life, and she kind of bottles it all up. When it erupts, it’s not always pretty.”

“You need to tell
me
of all people about how heartache can change a person? Seriously, that’s a pretty pathetic thing to say.”

He puts his hand on my arm. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean…”

“No, really. Get this straight. People that use the pain in their life as an excuse to make poor decisions don’t get any sympathy from me. That’s the coward’s way out.”

“Again, I’m sorry. Really. Please forgive me.” His smile curves up at only one end of his mouth, and his wide open eyes plead like an eager puppy. It’s hard to stay mad.

“You’re lucky you sent me those balloons this morning or you’d be even more in the doghouse.”

Finn’s smile disappears. “What balloons?”

“Huh? The orange ones you sent to the rec office. Jeremy called me over this morning before this madness.”

My phone dings, and Finn reaches into his pocket, reading the illuminated screen. “Do you have some plans later tonight that I should know about?” he asks.

“What? Give me that.” I take the phone from Finn’s hands and read the text.

I look forward to seeing you later.

I feel the blood draining from my face as I realize the text
and
the balloons are from the same creep who’s been sending me messages all weekend.

Just then Lawson shows up holding a pile of towels that go all the way up to his nose. “Special delivery for a fantastic wedding, I hear.” I can imagine his sarcastic grin behind the towels.

“It’s nice to see you doing something useful around the lodge for once,” I say, grabbing the towels out of his hands.

“Hey, baby, I aim to please.”

“Don’t be a jackass,” I say.

Finn watches us carefully, his head bobbing back and forth like he’s at a ping pong match. “Did you send balloons to Reese?” he asks Lawson.

“Balloons? No, I did not send balloons or flowers or candy to your girlfriend. The only thing I’m bringing are these towels…and my hotness, but that’s only handled by those that are worthy of me.” Finn and I stare at him blankly. “Look, it’s a joke. Wait a minute. Is that same person who’s been sending you texts now sending you gifts?”

“Someone’s been sending you texts?” asks Finn, accusingly. “And you didn’t tell me?
And
you told Lawson before you told me?”

Helen peeks her head out in the hallway. “There you are. We are having a cake issue. It seems that the minister bumped into the table on her way to the bathroom and may or may not have caused the cake to take a minor tumble.”

“Oh, my! Here, take these to Samantha.” I shove the towels in Helen’s arms, leaving her barely any room to see over them and rush toward the door. “It’d be nice if my boyfriend trusted me a little more,” I yell over my shoulder.

“The same goes for you, Reese,” he spits back.

Why is it that when you open your heart an inch, someone can work his way in until you feel like you’re ripped wide open and the slightest slip of the tongue can cause such pain?

I sit on the patio outside the ballroom as the final cleaning wraps up for the evening. I wouldn’t call the wedding a success, but then the marriage won’t be either, so what a fitting start to Anthony and Samantha’s life together. Once the wedding party dried off and reapplied their makeup, the festivities had continued as planned, minus the eating of the top tier of the vanilla cream wedding cake which ended up in the trash after multiple attempts to reshape it. I don’t think Samantha even noticed when Helen rearranged the miniature Barbie and Ken dolls atop the cake. When Anthony was writing the final check for the service of Tremont Lodge, he’d told me what a magical night he had had and that the lodge would forever hold a special place in his heart. I can guarantee that the lodge evokes the same feelings for Samantha, though it isn’t Anthony that fills the role of Prince Charming in her dreams.

I check my phone. I have two new texts from Tinley. She’s home now. I wonder how Murphy’s being received in Tinley’s real world and wish upon the stars that she doesn’t change him too much because the image of a Gucci-clad Murphy is too comical to consider. Bree has also texted to tell me that she and Jeremy are going to a movie and that she will catch up with me tomorrow. There are still a lot of guests out and about on the lawn as it’s the last night of the weekend before people scurry off to their jobs and students return to school. There is a crowd of teenagers waiting to take the twin ziplines across the pond. Their laughter floats through the now still night air, the storms long blown away. There are no new texts from the mystery texter, and the more I think about it, the more I think that Samantha is behind the cryptic messages. She was just trying to make Finn jealous and cause trouble between us. She kind of got her way, too. He played beautifully on the guitar during dinner, but then he slipped out of the ballroom when the band took over for the first dance. He didn’t even tell me
goodbye.

The last of the staff still in the ballroom comes to tell me he’s going home. I’m folding up the last chair on the grass outside for maintenance to put away in the morning when they are all dry. I thank him, walk over to the Adirondack chairs by the now-empty stage, and sink into the nearest one. I close my eyes, shaking away the stress of the evening. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but the crick in my neck tells me it’s been at least a few minutes. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes open and shut to wake up. An unexpected cool breeze makes me shiver. I scroll down on my phone to text Finn that I’m coming up to his room. Our fight was only a silly setback, nothing more. When I stand up, I am surprised to see a box sitting on the ground next to the chair. I pick it up and find my name written in black marker across the brown cardboard butcher paper that wraps around the box. Looking around, I don’t notice anyone nearby. In fact, there are only a few people scattered on the sidewalks walking toward the lodge or Jack’s Bar. The lawn is nearly bare as the stage acts have all gone home. I trace the letters of my name:
Reese Prentice
. The box is no larger than my hand and nearly as flat. My phone dings, a new message illuminating the screen.

Hope you like what I picked out for you.

This is ridiculous. Samantha has gone too far this time. I rip open the brown paper and pull off the white lid on the box underneath. I remove the blue tissue paper which seems such a contrast to the rough wrapping paper. When I look beneath the paper, my senses start to blend in a whirl of confusion and fear, and I feel a panic attack coming on. I brace myself on the table with one hand and count to ten to steady my beating heart, but then I see stars as my fingers tingle. Oh my God. Oh my God. Why? Who is doing this to me? And then it all goes...

Someone is shouting into my ears. It’s so loud. Why is he shouting? I push him with all my might to get him away from me, to leave me the hell alone.

“Reese!
Reese!
”

“Lawson?” I ask, my eyes setting on his steely gaze, forcing me to make eye contact.

“That’s better,” he says. “I need to know you’re human again.”

“How would you know what it’s like to be human?” I spit out.

“That’s my girl. I’m glad to have you back.” He wipes a strand of hair off the side of my face where it’s been plastered.

“What happened, Lawson?” I ask, using his arm to pull myself upright.

“You tell me. I was walking across the lawn with my buddies on my way to Jack’s when I saw a big old lump lying in a heap on the ground. Imagine my surprise when I found you were the lump.”

“You aren’t helping,” I say. Then I look at the arm of the chair where my phone rests next to the box…and the contents inside. I clutch Lawson’s arm again.

“What’s the matter, Reese? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think maybe I have.”

“Reese! What’s going on?” Finn grabs my other arm and pulls me away from Lawson. “What the hell is going on? I got your text that you were on your way to my room and then you didn’t show, and you’re not responding to my texts and… what did you do to Reese?” he asks, glaring at Lawson.

“He didn’t do anything. He saved me—I mean—he found me.”

“Panic attack?” Finn asks. I nod my head. “Come on. Let’s go back to my room.” He puts his arm around my shoulder, but I don’t move. I can’t stop staring at the box on the table. “What is it, Reese?”

I point to the box. “Someone’s been watching me,” I whisper. I take off the lid and pull out a picture and hand it to Finn.

Lawson peeks over his shoulder. “Is that you?” Lawson asks, pointing at the young girl in the picture.

My silence speaks volumes. “Is it from your grandparents?” Finn asks.

“No. I’ve never seen that picture before. Trust me. There aren’t very many pictures of me from my childhood. I’d have seen this picture.”

“Then what are you suggesting?” asks Finn.

“I…I don’t know. What if…?” I shake my head back and forth trying to process my thoughts. “What if it’s from my dad, I mean, the man I
thought
was my dad?”

“That’s crazy. How would he know you’re at the lodge?” says Finn.

It’s not Finn I react to as I look past him to Lawson who runs his hands through his hair, his eyes darting everywhere but in my direction. I push Finn gently over to the side so that I am standing right in front of Lawson. I point my finger in his chest, the question formulating in my mind. “What…did…you…do?”

“Nothing, Reese. I mean, it’s nothing…probably.”

“What did you do, Lawson?”
I ask again.

“Look, Reese,” he says, backing away. “You have to understand. I was really pissed that I had to go to jail for a few days. I was angry and hadn’t started rehab yet. I’m not the same person I was then. Sobriety is good. You have to believe me. It was a lapse in judgment is all.”

“What did you do?”

“I…”

“Tell her, Lawson,” says Finn, standing beside me in a show of solidarity.

“I may have snuck into Ted’s private room. Remember—the Tremont Lodge history room?”

“I remember,” I say.

“After Ted told me more about the circumstances of my mother’s death—that your mother may have pushed her off the chair lift…”

“Lawson!” I say, a new wave of rage boiling inside.

“Well, it might be true. Look, I realize we’ll never know the truth, but at the time I was pretty upset. Anyway, I went through a bunch of old records, and I found the contact information for your…your dad. And I sent him a letter telling him you were back at the lodge and that you might…” He runs his hand through his hair again and cracks his knuckles.

“I might have told him that you were coming into a lot of money soon.”

“Oh, my…”

Finn throws a punch that lands in Lawson’s stomach, dropping him to the ground.

“I know! I’m sorry. I never thought he’d actually contact you or anything. It was just a way to get back at you even though now I realize it was my being stupid,” Lawson says, holding up his hand to block Finn’s next punch.

“Finn, stop it! Both of you!” I yell.

Finn turns back to me. “Reese, do you think your dad is just trying to get money, or do you think he’d harm you?” asks Finn.

“How the hell am I supposed to know? I haven’t seen him since I was five.”

“He did shoot your mom, Reese.”

I snap my head back toward Lawson. “It was an accident. The gun went off accidentally. That’s what Ted said.”

“That’s what Ted
told
you. I found some more papers in that box that indicated otherwise.”

“You, asshole,” Finn says, pulling back to throw another punch.

The weight of this new information suffocates the life out of me, and I feel another panic attack coming on. “I want to leave
now
,” I say to Finn, who takes the picture and my phone, shoves them into his pocket, and puts his arm around me to lead me back to his room.

“I’m sorry, Reese!” Lawson shouts as we walk away. “I’ll take care of everything. You’ll be safe. I promise!”

But at this point in my life I don’t believe in promises anymore.