Finding Reese (Tremont Lodge Series Book 1) (7 page)

“You bastard,” I say, ready to slap him across the face but trying with all my might to restrain myself.

“Give her what she wants, Lawson.” I turn around and see Finn standing behind me with another towel in his hand. I snatch the second towel and scramble off Lawson’s lap.

“You think you have dibs on this one, Finn?
Really?
Isn’t she a little out of your league?” He turns to look at me. “I mean, she can do so much better than a high school dropout living on welfare, don’t you think?”

“Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?” High school dropout? Has Finn been lying to me with the whole story about growing up near here and pursuing his passion for music after college? Of course he has. Everyone lies to me. He just wants what every other guy wants, what Lawson wants.

“I want to be alone,” I say, walking away and leaving both of them to watch me walk away with my cover-up still in Lawson’s hands.

We get one day a week off from our assigned job at the lodge. My day off is Saturday which is perfect for my bio rhythms which are used to Saturday being my sleep-in day, since I always had school during the week and church with my grandparents on Sunday mornings. It’s nice to wake up and have the room to myself and not have to compete with Tinley for the shower or air to breathe for that matter. She’s really growing on me despite our differences, but I’m so used to being inside my own head, that it’s nice to have a little time to go back inside. And today I have a singular mission—learn more about Tremont Lodge and its history sixteen years ago—because maybe I’ll get some new clue that will help me figure out what happened to my parents.

I choose my clothing carefully because today I need to look like a guest. I’m going to pay a little visit to the lodge library, and I don’t need Helen or Tinley or any of the other college staff ratting me out. I put on a pair of khaki shorts and a yellow polo shirt. Tinley would just die if she saw me wearing this. I put my hair up in a high bun on top of my head and add a pair of fake designer reading glasses to complete the scholarly look.

Today the lodge is extra busy with guests checking in for a weekend stay, and weeklong guests checking out. There are a lot of garment bags hanging on the luggage racks that seem to be holding suits or dresses. I wonder if there are guests checking in early for the wedding. There are already at least a hundred white folding chairs set up on the far side of the lawn, equal amounts on either side of a grass aisle that may later be covered with a runner and rose petals that lead to the white gazebo. The gazebo has nearly been turned into a greenhouse there are so many flowers lining its outer and inner walls. I wonder what it would be like to get married. I wonder what my parents thought the day they were married. Did they have doubts? Did they believe in happily ever after—once?

Looking over my shoulder like I’m doing something illegal, I turn the handle that opens the double French doors that lead into the library. Seeing the elegant room again is almost as breathtaking as my first visit. I was teased in school for being a bookworm. It wasn’t like bullying because I had friends, too, but wherever I went there was likely to be a book in my hands. Grandpa once told me that with a book I am never alone. I need all the friends I can get.

The library is empty this morning. I suppose it gets the most use in the winter when there’s a roaring fire in the fireplace. I can imagine children sprawled out on the floor playing games, adults sitting at the tables scattered around the room putting together a puzzle, and a young couple getting cozy in an oversized chair in front of the large windows watching the snow falling. Not so much today, though. The sparse warm months in Michigan are not to be spent inside.

The first thing I do is scan the books on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. My plan is to start at the bottom and work my way up, using the attached ladder to view the books on the shelves closest to the ceiling. There are lots of the classics:
The Count of Monte Cristo, Pride and Prejudice, Grapes of Wrath.
Non-fiction books on topics like Michigan history, hunting in the Midwest, and the Great Lakes also dominate the shelves. I pull out a book on Michigan history and check the index for Tremont Lodge but find nothing. There is a section of Harlequin romances and spy thrillers which are reached from the first step of the ladder. I’m growing frustrated. When you don’t even know what you are looking for, how can you possibly find it? I slide the ladder to the side of the room farthest from the windows and start my search again from the bottom. Then I see it—a little placard with the words
Tremont Lodge
above the first shelf. The writing is so small it would be easy to miss. I’m thinking the entire organization of this library is in need of a makeover. There are five or six books on this particular shelf. I pull them all out and sit on the nearest couch, a large claw-footed piece of furniture with large buttons sewn into the cushions that might not prove to be the most comfortable choice. I kick off my shoes and open the first book. There are lots of pictures of Tremont Lodge in black and white. Seeing women and men skiing in the 1920s is fascinating. To imagine that women actually wore skirts over their knickers at one time smarts of the worst possible kind of fashion disaster with painful consequences for those poor women. Tremont Lodge was built in 1920 by Leonard Oakley, an oil baron from New York who was looking for a retreat for his family. Tremont City was about the only sign of life at the base of the mountain at the time with local hunters and fishermen populating the town. I can only imagine how harsh the winters must have been for those early people. The book says Mr. Oakley brought in all sorts of heavy equipment to clear out trees up the mountain to make room for his lodge and one ski hill. The locals had protested by lying down in front of the machines making a human barricade. A court order by a judge from a neighboring town had ordered the imprisonment of anyone else who stopped Mr. Oakley’s construction plans. He saw the benefits having a ski resort in the area could bring for the community. Of course, he was right, as the area is a popular travel destination to this day. I can’t help but wonder if Tremont Lodge will someday pass to Lawson as the current Mr. Oakley has no children of his own.

The next book is a look at famous guests who have stayed at Tremont Lodge over the years. Frank Sinatra performed a free concert in the Winter Haven restaurant in the lodge in 1947, and Marilyn Monroe allegedly spent a night with her husband Joe DiMaggio in a room on the ninth floor right before they divorced. The most recent celebrity encounter mentioned in the book is an incognito visit in the 90s by Julia Roberts and a mystery man. There’s a picture of her with her characteristic curly hair tied back and tucked under a large floppy hat sitting at the pool. If I ever had curly hair, I’d want to look just like her. I’m admiring the 90s fashions of the other hotel guests at the pool when I feel like déjà vu is smacking me upside the head. It seems too good to be true. I can’t believe this is happening again. In the background of the picture with Julia Roberts, is a baby, sitting in the lap of his mother looking toward the pool. I wonder if I’m just imagining things, but I know I am not…because in the pool where the mother and baby are looking is a little girl, about five, splashing around in the water.
I
am splashing in the water, and my mother and Blake are watching. It doesn’t make any sense. We all look so happy. What could change that would make my parents abandon us at Tremont Lodge? And where is my father? With that woman from the picture I saw at the mountain? The opening of the door startles me back to reality. I slam the book shut like I’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Excuse me. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” says the man. “Just reading the morning paper. Mind if I sit down?”

“Uh, sure, no problem. You’re not a bother at all.” The man smiles. He looks familiar, but I’m not sure…

“My name’s Ted,” he says. “Lovely place here, this Tremont Lodge, isn’t it?”

“Y…yes,” I stammer. Mr. Oakley is standing but a few feet away from me, his summer employee who is
not
supposed to be here right now.

“What were you reading? You looked to be enthralled with whatever it is you found.” He smiles again, and I see a twinkle in his eye.

“The history of the lodge,” I say.

“Ah, yes, it is a pretty fantastic place,” he says. I might not ever have this opportunity again, so I take a deep breath and continue.

“Have you been here before?” I ask, playing along with his
I’m not the boss
ruse.

“Sure. My family has been coming here since I was young.”

“And now you come with your family?” I ask.

“Something like that,” he says. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious how the Tremont has changed over the years. I was here—once—with my family, too, when I was about five, 1998, actually.” The smile on Mr. Oakley’s face disappears, and he stuffs the newspaper back in his briefcase.

“Nice to see you, miss. Please enjoy your day. I just remembered that I may have left my wallet in my room.” Mr. Oakley leaves the library without another word, the bulge of his wallet easily visible from his back pocket. What happened at Tremont Lodge in 1998? And did it have anything to do with my abandonment? Did something bad happen to my parents? Maybe they didn’t leave me here after all.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I skipped breakfast. I put the books back on the shelf and decide to grab a sandwich in the deli in the lodge since I’m still dressed as a nerdy guest. Murphy is working in the gift shop as I pass by. I wave. He waves back but doesn’t seem to register who I am. The guests at the counter in the deli are debating the merits of a ham vs. turkey sandwich like their lives depend upon making the right decision. Just pick a damn sandwich. I grab a tuna sandwich and butt in front of them in line. They don’t even notice.

“Hey, Reese!” I hear Murphy calling me from the gift shop as I pass back by with my sandwich.

“Shh, don’t blow my cover,” I say.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. You look, uh, smart,” he grins.

“I
am
smart,” I say.

“I mean, you look different. What are you doing in the lodge?”

“It’s my day off, and I wanted to visit the library.”

“Oh, that smart thing again.” I punch him in the arm.

“So, anyway, Tinley and I are working at that wedding reception tonight, and we could use some extra help.”

“Why are you guys working the wedding? You’re not catering staff.”

“I know, but they are short-handed. Supposedly there’s never been such a big wedding at the lodge before, and there aren’t enough people to serve guests. Didn’t you get the text from Lawson?”

“
Lawson?
”

“Yeah, Mr. Oakley’s nephew…”

“I know who he is…” I shoot back.

“Okay, well, he sent out a text to everyone today on behalf of his uncle that they would pay overtime to anyone willing to work the wedding reception tonight. Didn’t you get the text?”

“It’s my day off,” I say. “I break from technology on my day off.”

“Okay, whatever then.”

“Do you mean to tell me that
Tinley
agreed to work at this wedding, too?”

“Yeah, she’s the one that asked me to work with her. We were going to go on a date.” He puffs up his chest like a mating bird wanting me to be impressed he scored a real date with Tinley and not just a hookup.

“Oh no, this can’t be good,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind, Murphy. I’ll see you at the reception.” I leave him looking confused as I rush out of the gift shop and out of the lodge. Tinley’s got to be up to no good going to that wedding when she knows full well who will be there, too. Now I have to spend my night off making sure she stays out of trouble. Just great.

The ballroom in the south wing of Tremont Lodge is aflutter with activity by the time Tinley and I arrive. We are wearing black pants with white shirts and a black jacket, provided to us from a storage room at the dormitory where Helen was helping Jerry, the director of the catering service, to pass out uniforms to the new recruits.
I’m very proud of you working on your day off
, she’d said to me.
Pride has nothing to do with it,
I’d wanted to say back, but I’d politely smiled and said
thank you.
It was when Tinley was similarly complimented that I about blew a gasket. Tinley had admitted to me that she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t make a scene, and no amount of begging and pleading had changed her mind. That girl drives me insane. Hopefully, between Murphy and me we can contain her, though if Murphy knew what had happened with Dean, he’d be like a bull in a china shop, so that is one person I
won’t
be divulging her secret to. It is truly amazing what one’s libido is willing to do for a member of the opposite sex.

“Hey, sexy,” says Murphy, grabbing Tinley’s butt. “Oh, hey, smartypants,” he says to me. I roll my eyes. We walk to the center of the dance floor where Jerry is giving instructions to everyone. Tinley and I are assigned to carry plates. Me—fish dinners. Tinley—smothered chicken. Murphy is given water-pouring duty. That seems like a poor choice. The guy’s not exactly Mr. Finesse, but he does like to drink. I laugh at my own joke, and everyone stops to stare. “Oops, sorry.” When we are dismissed, I grab Tinley’s hand and try one more time. “Promise me you won’t make a scene. This is not about Dean or Harrison. This is about the bride and the groom. Don’t go getting yourself fired. You don’t want to go home, remember?”

“Sure, whatever, Reese. Mr. Oakley won’t fire me. He and my dad have been friends for years. Accidents
do happen
, you know?” I just shake my head and bite my cheek because there is no sense getting into Tinley’s thick skull tonight. “Hey! Look who’s here. See, Reese, you’ll have other things to distract you with tonight.” I turn toward the door and see Finn walking toward us with his guitar in hand. His butterfly tattoo looks like it is waving at me as he walks. I feel warm and doubt it’s because of this stuffy uniform. Finn was not part of my summer plan.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says. I take a deep breath so I don’t give away my own butterflies that flutter faster every time I see him. “You look good in uniform.” I want to stay mad at Finn for lying to me. I keep thinking about what Lawson said about him being a high school dropout. And then I think about the night he kissed me and…

“Thanks,” I say.

“It’s a nice surprise to see you here tonight,” he whispers, pulling me away from Murphy and Tinley, and toward the music corner of the dance floor where he proceeds to set his music out on a stand. I follow him like the pull of two magnetic poles drawn together.

“I thought you had all your music
up here
,” I say, pointing at my head and then pointing at the stand. His dimples jump and down.

“Ha! That, my dear, is just a ruse. It makes the bride happier thinking that she paid a lot of money for the sheet music I don’t really need, so I’ll indulge her by keeping up appearances.

“You’re so thoughtful,” I say.

“So tell me something. Is Tinley up to no good?” I shake my head
yes.
“I figured. If you need any help, let me know. I’m only here through dinner. What about you?”

“I’m assigned to service and clean-up after dinner, but I don’t have to be here for the whole night, either.”

“Good. There’s something I want to show you when you’re done.”

“Finn, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” He looks frustrated as he slams his guitar case on the floor.

“I don’t know…maybe because you aren’t who you’ve said you are. Maybe it’s because you’ve been lying to me.”

“Are you serious, Reese? Because of what that asshole said?”

“Well…I…maybe.”

“Cut that out,” he says.

“What?” I ask.

“
That.
” He points to my cheek. “You bite your cheek when you’re angry or nervous. There’s nothing to be nervous about with me, Reese. Give me a chance to explain. I didn’t lie to you. He’s just messing with your head. I’m one of the good guys. You have to believe me. You just called me sweet. Remember?” He takes a deep breath, letting it hit me with gentle force when he exhales. I close my eyes and shake my head
yes.
“Good. Wear jeans and a sweatshirt and meet me at the dormitory patio at 10:00.” He reaches down and kisses me on the forehead. I wonder if my mind could be any more confused.

The bride and groom are introduced by the DJ who plays a rap version of the song,
Here Comes the Bride.
That’s a first. A couple dozen college staff members stand around the room in their assigned positions, ready to serve the guests, but first the bride and groom stuff cake in each others’ faces which always seemed like such an odd ritual considering how much money they spent on their clothes, especially the bride. Why care so much about the crystals on your bodice if you are going to let your new husband rub his cake-smeared face in your bosom?

When the wedding party is seated, it is our cue to begin dinner service. Finn’s gentle strumming fills the room as a lovely background to the celebration. I watch him for a moment, closing his eyes for several bars at a time as if he’s becoming one with the music. Part of me still feels like I’m being played by the summer fling king, but part of me hopes he’s for real.

“Come one, Reese. The food’s ready for table three,” says Tinley. Look who’s being the responsible one now.

“You took everyone’s orders?”

“Yep, four smothered chicken and six fish dinners,” she says. I follow her back to the kitchen where we load up our trays. This is how it goes for the next fifteen minutes. With only one table remaining, I’m beginning to enjoy myself. Maybe working a special event every now and then will be more of a fun way to earn extra money than a chore. But when I see who is sitting at the table we are about to serve, I am reminded my real purpose of the evening—keeping Tinley in check.

“Oh, no you don’t,” I say, taking Tinley by the elbow and directing her back toward the kitchen. Murphy and I will take this table. Right, Murphy? He’s been like a puppy all night trailing right behind us with his water refills.

“Uh, sure, Reese, I can serve. They didn’t call me Smooth Moves Murphy in football for no reason. But what’s wrong with Tinley?” he whispers.

“Nothing’s wrong with Tinley. She’s just….” I turn to look toward the kitchen. “I think she’s needed in there for something.” And in the time I’d looked back toward the kitchen, Tinley has swooped past us and is currently taking orders at Dean and Harrison’s table, along with several young women who seem, at the moment, to be completely enthralled with their conversation. Shocker.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the help,” says Dean. “I knew we’d see you again.” Harrison glares at me behind Dean’s back but doesn’t say anything. “You look good in men’s attire, Tinley. It suits your personality as the stiff you really are.”

“Why you son-of-a….” Tinley says, her knuckles clutched around the top of Dean’s chair and turning bright white. But before I can even redirect, she changes her act.

“Yes, sir. I am here to
help
you and these lovely ladies. What can I get for you tonight?”

“How about you turn around for us and let me see what my dear cousin’s money is buying us tonight?” Without hesitation Tinley spins slowly in front of Dean allowing the table a slow motion view of Tinley’s perfectly toned body.

Murphy whispers in my ear again, “What the hell is she doing?”

“I’m not really sure, but it can’t be good.”

“What can we get you all? The kitchen is closing soon, and we want to get you all served so you can enjoy the rest of your evening,” I say.

“I’m enjoying my evening just fine,” says Dean. He grins at Tinley while his date punches him in the shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll take the smothered chicken,” he says. “I like things hot and juicy.” Now his date blushes, but Tinley doesn’t bat an eye as she continues with the orders before turning to walk toward the kitchen.

“What was that all about?” I ask, seconded by Murphy.

“Just having a little fun with the guests.” She’s filling the orders on our trays before I can think of anything else to say. “Three fish and seven chicken dinners,” she says, handing me the fish dinners.

I am back to the table within minutes and have the guests with fish dinners served before she returns. “So sorry about the delay, sir,” she says, putting a smothered chicken plate in front of Dean. Murphy is wedging behind her to refill waters, giving me the chance to grab hold of Tinley and drag her away from the table before she hatches any plans.

“What do you think we should do until dinner is through?” I ask from the entrance to the kitchen, watching Finn’s fingers play a new melody on the guitar.

“Now….” Tinley grins, her perfectly expensive smile filling the width of her face, “now we wait.” The first thing I hear over the sound of Finn’s guitar are the screams of a young woman.

“Someone call an ambulance!” I look in the direction of the screams to the table we’d just served. Dean is holding both hands around his throat like he can’t breathe. Harrison is jumping over his date to loosen Dean’s tie. Dean starts pointing at an older woman sitting at a nearby table. She rushes over and thrusts a needle into his thigh. By the time the paramedics arrive, Dean is sitting on the ground drinking water. The reception is in pandemonium. Like a slow impact crash that causes gaper’s delay on the interstate, everyone has stopped what they were doing to observe the action which at this point simply involves watching the paramedics talk to Dean who is pointing at the kitchen in a wild manner. I look for Tinley, but she is gone. Murphy shakes his head like he has no idea where she went, either.

It was determined that one of the fish dinners was accidentally smothered in the chicken gravy though no amount of apologizing by Jerry can make Dean forgive him for the mix-up. I decide it might be best for me to ditch early, too.

Back in the room, I change clothes. Tinley returns as I’m slipping a pink sweatshirt over my head. I zip up my jeans and put on tennis shoes. She sits on the bed across from me—and waits.

“How’d you know?” I ask.

“That night we were together we were playing a stupid
what’s your favorite
? game. I told him that coconut-crusted shrimp was my favorite food in the world. He told me he’s highly allergic to fish and needs an EpiPen to keep him from keeling over in the event of an accidental ingestion.”

“How did you know that he’d have that EpiPen tonight?”

“Of course he would. He showed the stupid thing to me that night. Plus, it’s a family wedding. I knew his mommy would fly in to the rescue, on her broom, presumably. And she did.” Tinley gets an evil gleam in her eye that spreads to the same smile I witnessed in the reception hall.

“Remind me never to mess with you,” I say.

“Good. Lesson learned then. Ha! Where are you headed out tonight?” she asks.

“I’m not sure. Finn is taking me somewhere secret.”

“He’s pretty hot,” she says.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Make sure he treats you like a lady,” Tinley says.

“And Murphy will be doing the same with you, I presume?”

“
Murphy?
He doesn’t have impeccable manners, but he’s harmless.”

“Make sure you’re careful.”

“Man, you sound like my mother.” I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a mother anymore.

I skip down the stairs to the patio outside the dormitory. Finn is sitting on top of a table scrolling through his phone. “Reading anything good on there?” I ask.

“Well, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie got married after all,” he says.

“That
is
good news,” I say.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to show.”

“Why did you think that?” I ask.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere at the reception.”

“Oh, that. Let’s just say that Tinley had to make a quick escape, and I had to help her.”

“Do I want to know if this has anything to do with that guy having an allergic reaction to fish?”

“No. No, you do not want to know.”

Finn gets up from the table and grabs my hand, pulling me toward the lodge. We walk across the large lawn, full of activity. I follow him into the recreation office that’s across from the stage where Finn usually performs. Tonight there is a woman I’ve never seen before who is playing a banjo and singing. She’s really good.

“That’s Mona. She lives in Traverse City and fills in when we’re short a performer. She’s got a set of triplets. Can you believe that?” I shake my head
no
because she is so petite I wonder how a body so small can grow three babies at the same time.

A guy behind the counter shakes Finn’s hand and gives us forms to fill out. “What is this?” I ask.