Lark Lake Lodge

Chapter Four

Windows and Boundaries

“I could do it for twenty,” Harlan’s friend Tyler said after a thorough walk-through. The shock of his estimate made my vision blur as I battled intense wooziness and a strong likelihood of fainting.

“I would have guessed the same,” Harlan said, nodding. They were in agreement that it seemed a fair price. I, on the other hand, was in a flop-sweating panic.

“Twenty thousand ?“ I asked in a thin, high-pitched voice.

“Yep,” Tyler said, spitting a brown streak into the damp grass. He was more of what I’d expected Harlan to be. Curly blonde hair tucked under a dirty ball cap, his lip jutting out three inches with a thick wad of chewing tobacco. He looked to be in his forties and had swagger in his bow-legged walk. “I can’t go any lower, even for a pretty little lady like you.”

Boy, oh boy, was he inappropriate, and man, oh man, did he lay it on thick. From the moment he hopped out of his truck, he was all leering glances and suggestive comments. I wasn’t thrilled about his constant overtures, but I wasn’t pissed off, either. After years of being off the market, it felt kind of good to be noticed. And I could tell he was harmless. He had a happy-go-lucky vibe and while his words were suggestive, he kept his hands to himself.

Harlan, on the other hand, was very put off by Tyler’s behavior. Every time Tyler referred to me as “pretty lady,” Harlan’s spine went poker straight. Later, during the walk-through, Tyler had asked me if I’d tried out all the beds yet, saying that if I hadn’t, he could offer his assistance. Harlan’s face flushed as he took his buddy out in the hall to give him a talking-to that was too low for me to hear. By the time we were out front with Tyler telling me the comically high price for the windows, the two seemed to be a bit calmer. It was now my turn to get upset.

“That’s a lot of money,” I said, queasy enough to actually barf. I’d just paid a thousand to Dale and Annie and that had made my stomach flip-flop with worry. Twenty thousand was a whole other ulcer-inducing universe.

“Well, pretty lady, when you consider the size of the place, the number of windows, and the fact that all these picture windows along the front are custom, you’ll realize I’m actually cutting you a great deal,” Tyler said.

Harlan nodded in agreement. “He’s right. It’s a good price.”

I felt a little cornered, which didn’t help my agitated state. Both of these men knew far more than I did about replacing windows. But I was also hyperaware of being the only out-of-towner and the only woman in this discussion. They weren’t mansplaining, exactly, and they were more than likely right, but I felt a little rebellious streak heat up inside me.

Maybe I could get a second opinion. But without internet, how? Ask Harlan for his Yellow Pages ? That felt like searching for a needle in a 1970‘s haystack. And considering Harlan had lived in the Saugatuck-Douglas area his whole life, I wasn’t likely to best him on finding a good deal on windows.

Without windows, my little critter habitat would remain open for business. I had to seal the place up while it was creature-free, so there wasn’t a ton of time for comparison shopping.

“Fine. Let’s do it. I’m sure I can shuffle the budget around. I mean, sheets and towels are overrated, right?” I had to joke or I’d cry. The guys laughed and Tyler immediately went to his truck to write up the order. Harlan took a step closer to me.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“No. Not really.”

An awkward silence stretched out between us. For most of the day, we’d gone everywhere together, and now we’d reached the end of our collective tasks. The rest of my day would be killing time until the morning when Tyler and his crew showed up. There was no point in making Harlan stick around simply because he was nice to look at.

I wanted him to know he could leave if he felt like it. But how did I do that without sounding like I was trying to send him away?

“If you’ve got stuff to do, I don’t want to keep you,” I said, then winced inwardly. It came out as more of a dismissal than I’d hoped.

He raised an eyebrow. “You trying to get rid of me? Am I in the way here?” he asked, eyeing Tyler.

“God, no!”

“I’ll stay until he leaves.”

Tyler returned, handing me the quote. Looking down at the numbers, a wave of nausea rolled over me again.

“Me and the boys’ll be here first thing in the morning,” he said. “Or I could just spend the night, if that’s easier.” He waggled his eyebrows at me .

Harlan let out a low growl and then said, “Dammit, Tyler! Knock it off! I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

Tyler laughed and held his hands in front of himself. “All right, chief. No need to get all riled. Clearly, I’m stepping on your turf.”

“No, that’s not what I—it’s just disrespectful, okay?” Harlan said. His cheeks flushed and he ran a hand through his hair. “Can you, just once, act like a professional?”

All things considered, it felt pretty damn good to have a couple of guys fighting over me—even if they didn’t really mean it. I felt like the cute new girl in high school.

Tyler pulled off his ball cap and laid it over his heart. “I will see you in the morning, Miss Carver. Thank you for your business,” he said as he bowed dramatically.

“Oh just go already!” Harlan snapped. Tyler laughed as he hopped into his truck.

“Thanks,” I said, waving as he pulled away.

Another awkward silence loomed, but Harlan didn’t linger in it. In the short time I’d known him, I divined he was a doer, so I knew standing still wasn’t his thing. He marched over to the woodpile and started hauling firewood to stack by the fire pit. He was getting me set up for the evening.

Wowzers.

A girl could really get used to his whole thoughtful thing. He looked out for me. He anticipated things I would want or need. He helped me.

Warring emotions clashed inside of me. On the one hand, it was a balm to my soul to be able to let go and have someone else do all the worrying and arranging. On the other hand, I’d come here to take charge of my life. I couldn’t hand the reins over to a man I just met.

It didn’t matter that he was beautiful, capable, and kind. It didn’t matter that his smile stole my bones and I’d started to fixate on the idea of wrapping myself around him like a climbing vine and kissing the gray at his temples. I had to assert myself or I’d fail at being a badass bitch before I even got started.

“I can do that, you know,” I said.

He dropped an armful of logs on the pile he’d created. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Just thought I’d save you dealing with the spiders.”

“I’m not afraid of spiders.” My petulant tone made his lips curl in half a smile.

“Okay.” He stared a moment. I’d started to acclimate to the eyeballing me thing, so I stared back. “What are you up to now?”

“Maybe you could give me directions to the library? I want to get on my computer and work on my budget and my renovation plans.”

“Yeah, sure.” He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed the back of his neck. “You want to come by for dinner later? I’m making chili.”

Oh God, yes, I want to come over.

Everything in me was desperate to say yes. I wanted to stare at him, listen to his deep voice, and let him cook for me. But something inside me knew that dinner with Harlan was a bad idea. I’d feel like an awful mooch and I wouldn’t be able to resist if he wanted me to stick around for dessert—and eat it off each other.

It wasn’t the right time to leap into something with someone I hardly knew. I had goals. I had a plan. And Harlan wasn’t in it.

“I’ll be fine, thanks. I’ve got food.” I motioned to my truck.

He looked over my shoulder at the vehicle and pursed his lips. “You can’t live on gas station snacks.”

“I appreciate the offer, but thanks anyway.”

“Okay. See you later.”

And just like the day before, he turned on his heel and left. I hoped I hadn’t made a horrible mistake. But I had to stick to my guns. This guy was dangerous and I was too vulnerable to protect myself.

** *

An hour later I was sitting in the Saugatuck-Douglas District Library with my laptop fired up and my portfolio open beside me with all the sketches of my plans for the lodge. I’d been working on them for a couple of months and had gone into the project somewhat blind, as the paperwork I’d received when I took over ownership of the lodge had floorplans but no photos or anything more specific to go on. Now that I’d actually seen the place and had taken a bunch of pictures with my expensive paperweight, I had a lot of rethinking to do.

I opened up my budget spreadsheet and made some painful updates, adding the pest removal and window money I’d already spent, as well as roofing costs. That would definitely be the next exorbitantly expensive step. With each added structural expense, I had to sacrifice more and more of the design elements and amenities I’d hoped to include. I tried to convince myself that I could add more over time once the place was up and running, but by the end of the budget updates, I was feeling rather grim.

In hopes of getting my mind off of my harsh financial reality, I dove into some research. My plan was to incorporate the lodge’s provenance into the new brand I was building. Surely the library had some kind of historical records that could help. Uncle Randy told us the place was built in the 1920s and had a real heyday in the 1950s. He bought it in 1979 and had a constant stream of visitors throughout the ’80s and ‘90s until Aunt Patty got sick and he stopped renting rooms. While his stories were great, I wanted to find actual documentation, and maybe even some photos I could use in the décor and marketing.

I got up from the table and walked over to a young woman shelving books. Tall and cheery, she was the only staffer I’d seen on duty. Her sweater set and skirt were unfussy and gave the impression that this was her first real job and she meant to take it seriously.

“Hi. Might you have any historical documents on properties in the area?” I asked.

“Oh, hello. I wanted to say hi earlier, but you seemed engrossed,” she said, placing the book she was holding back on the cart at her side. She offered her hand for a shake. “I’m Melanie. You’re the lady that bought the lodge, right?”

“Inherited, but yes. I’m Maisie,” I said as I shook her hand. “Hold on. How did you know who I am?”

She smiled. “It’s a small town. My mom is friends with Annie. She told Mom all about you and then Mom called up here to give me the lowdown. News travels really fast when there’s nothing to talk about.”

This would take some getting used to. If I went to my old public library in Rochester Hills, the librarian didn’t walk up and say, Hey, aren’t you that realtor that can’t get pregnant? I was just one of tons of faceless patrons back home. But here in Douglas, a new community member was big news and word had already been circulating since my critter removal that morning.

I noted an excitement bubbling in Melanie that seemed to go beyond meeting the new girl in town. She was trying not to blurt something and finally failed to contain it.

“So you live right by Harlan.”

She said his name with reverence and girlish glee. Obviously she had a thing for my neighbor. I couldn’t blame her, considering I was developing one as well. A tiny flash of possessiveness burned hot in my chest, but thankfully died out quickly. I was too consumed with the idea that if she was sweet on Harlan, she surely knew a thing or two about him. And while I wasn’t proud of my full intention of gossiping about him with the locals, I had to know more.

“I do. He’s been really kind and helpful,” I said .

It was childish of me to talk up my time with Harlan, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt compelled to mark my territory—even though he definitely wasn’t my territory.

“God! You’re so lucky! Harlan is literally the hottest guy of all time. He’s perpetually single and something of a hermit. Every woman in a twenty-mile radius fantasizes about dating him. But since he’s barely in town, it’s nearly impossible. My biggest blessing is that he loves to read. He comes in once a week and checks out armfuls of books. I’m surprised there’s anything here that he hasn’t read.”

“That makes sense. He was pretty engrossed in a book when I was at his place earlier.” This time, I really wasn’t trying to brag. I was simply noting his reading habits.

“You’ve been in his house ?“ Melanie said, with wide eyes.

“Yeah. He let me use his shower.” Okay, I was bragging a little that time.

“I could die. That’s amazing. You’ve seen more of his life than anyone around here. I’m so jealous and I have, like, a million questions.”

It struck me as strange that Harlan had a reputation for being a hermit. He’d offered to let me stay at his place mere minutes after we met. He made me breakfast and let me use his phone and his shower. Even if he wasn’t particularly chatty, he seemed like a welcoming guy. But apparently that was way out of character.

I didn’t allow myself to wonder why he was different with me than everyone else. I just chalked it up to him being a swell guy who liked to lend a hand. Any other reasons I could imagine would only lead down a road where I got the same dreamy and hopeful expression that Melanie wore. Instead, I focused on protecting his privacy. If it really was a big deal for him to invite me into his home, I didn’t want to pay him back by giving one of his fans a bunch of insider info .

“You know, I’ve only got a little time, and I was hoping to search some historical records, if you don’t mind,” I gently redirected.

“Of course! God, I’m sorry. What can I help you with?”

“I wanted to see if you have any documentation about the lodge. Any original blueprints, deeds, tax records, press clippings, photos…that sort of thing.”

“Hmm…I’d have to check with Mr. Symanski. He’s our staffer who serves as volunteer historian. I’m pretty sure that kind of stuff will be in storage, but he can pull it for you. If you leave your number, I could call you when I find out what he’s able to gather.”

She motioned for me to follow her to the desk, where she scribbled notes on what I was looking for. After she wrote my name, she looked up at me for my number. I realized giving her my cell would be pointless.

“My phone doesn’t work at the lodge. Would you mind calling Harlan’s place instead?”

“ Mind ? Are you kidding me? I’d love to have a reason to call there. So…you’re taking calls at his place? Are you staying there?“ I saw another glint of jealousy in her eyes. I didn’t take it personally. Imagining myself at nineteen or twenty, in her situation, I’d have felt exactly the same.

“No. I’m not staying there. He’s just been kind enough to let me use his phone.”

Her wrinkled brow smoothed as she let out a breath. “Oh, okay. Well, I’ll call Harlan when the documents are ready for you. Although I’ll have to call him before then, anyway. A couple of books I know he’s been waiting for were checked back in today, so I put them aside. I’m pretty well versed in what he’s reading at any given time.”

Bless the girl. She had no idea that her inner monologue had become loudly audible .

“I could take them back with me. I’m heading that way, anyway,” I offered.

Her face registered surprise, like I’d played some wholly unexpected checkmate move on her. “Oh—uh, it’s fine. I can call.”

“Honestly, I don’t mind.”

Okay, yeah. I’ll admit it. I had a weird tug-of-war with a sweet young woman, over a man who wasn’t interested in either of us. It wasn’t my finest hour, and yet I still felt victorious once I packed up my things and headed to my truck holding copies of Tom Clancy’s Red Rabbit and A Perfect Spy by John Le Carre.

Just before heading out of town, I stopped in a local bar and grill to pick up a burger to go. Harlan was right about how little food I had back at my truck. And, foolishly, I’d already said no to chili night at his place. I couldn’t show up with these books expecting a second invitation to eat, and I definitely couldn’t make it through the night on only a bag of Funyuns and a packet of Mentos.

While I sat at the bar waiting for my carryout and watching bad sitcom reruns with lagging captions, I was struck with the joyful realization that I had phone service in town! Pulling my phone from my jeans pocket, I turned it on. Two days’ worth of messages rolled in as it buzzed and buzzed.

About ten of the texts were from Brian, each becoming more and more frustrated and frantic that I hadn’t checked in. These had obviously been sent before I called him. My mom had texted to check in on me and I wrote her a quick message to assure her I was fine.

But it was the most recent text that made me want to Hulk out and crush the little machine in my rageful fist. Rob had the audacity to contact me. Even after I’d told him I never wanted to hear from him again, the bastard texted me. It didn’t help that the message itself was completely infuriating.

Where are my golf shoes? The grey ones not the white ones. I thought you packed all my golf stuff together but I can’t find them .

My stomach churned with the dreaded memory of me packing the entire house when we moved out. I’m not proud to admit it, but I packed his stuff for him. His entire life, Rob had never had to do anything around the house he grew up in or around the house we shared. When faced with the task of getting his shit together, he’d whined and pouted, cajoled and flattered, raged and bribed.

I stood my ground for a couple of days while I packed my own things. When he finally started packing, he did it like a disgruntled toddler and somehow made the place messier than when he’d started. It was easier just to pack for him rather than to let him do a horrible job and then clean up after. So, I took care of it—as always.

But now he was on his own. I was done mothering him. He should just go out and find another idiot to marry him. And that idiot could take my place as the official keeper of the mental catalog of where all his things were. I swear the man would lose his dick if it wasn’t attached.

And now he had the nerve to go against my wishes and contact me with the most infuriatingly Rob question. My shaking fingers nearly shattered the screen of my phone as I tapped my response.

Screw you. Find your own shoes.

The moment I hit send, adrenaline coursed through me. I’d never spoken to him like that before. It wasn’t that I was afraid of him, I just didn’t talk to anyone like that. But everyone has their breaking point. He’d torn my heart out by lying to me for years. I owed him nothing.

On the short drive out of town, with my carryout burger in tow, I stewed. Infuriated that Rob could still get a rise out of me, I ground my teeth so hard I nearly cracked my jaw in half. Just seeing his stupid name on my screen was enough to set me off. The fact that he hadn’t changed at all only made it worse .

Turning off the state road toward the lodge, I was sure there was steam coming out of my ears. Taking deep breaths and doing my best to clear my mind, I parked in front of Harlan’s place, grabbed the books, hopped down from my truck, and walked toward his porch. I also made sure to bring along the Styrofoam container with my burger and fries. For some ridiculous reason, I thought carrying it to the door would be a good idea—a visual representation that I’d made other dinner plans, just as I said I would.

My feet froze in the crunching gravel the moment I reached the porch steps. I heard shouting. Harlan shouting. And since I didn’t hear another voice, I could only presume he was on the phone. Scooting into the shadows, I leaned on the porch railing and waited. I couldn’t knock on the door in the midst of this shouting match. Eavesdropping hadn’t exactly been my plan, but I couldn’t say my curiosity wasn’t piqued by hearing this typically unflappable guy acting so…flapped.

“The hell you are! You can’t rob me of one of the three weeks a year I get to see her!“ he roared.

It didn’t take Sherlock to figure out what was going on. He’d told me enough about the arrangement with his daughter that it was easy to presume his ex-wife was trying to cancel some time Harlan was supposed to spend with her. How terrible! Maybe I came to the right place for a bit of lamenting about exes.

“ No, dammit! She needs to see her father! That’s what she needs !“ I couldn’t blame him for being so fired up. If I had a daughter, I’d move heaven and earth to be with her. “Kayla, if you go through with this, I swear to God, I’ll drag your ass into court.” He was quiet for a moment. I guessed his ex was doing her share of shouting back at him. “Oh, come on! You know what? Screw him and screw you!”

The receiver slammed onto the cradle, followed by the loud crash of him throwing something very breakable. Inasmuch as I was riveted by his family drama and ready to be his shoulder to cry on if he needed one, the best thing to do was to leave. But unfortunately, as I tried to sneak away, my toe caught in the gravel and I took a header. The crunch of my body hitting all the tiny pebbles drew the attention of the dogs in the kennel, as well as Roger and Ralph in the front window. A cacophony of Bassett bays ensued. The entire disaster was comically loud.

Farewell, hamburger.

The container had flown from my hand and my dinner was strewn everywhere, including a mustard-streaked piece of lettuce that served as the cherry on the humiliation sundae by landing on top of my head. The books had fallen beside me, and thankfully didn’t appear to be damaged. Sitting up, I shook off my lettuce hat, and looked down at my hands. They were stinging and scratched from catching myself in the gravel. I brushed them on my jeans to dislodge a few pebbles and before I could stand, I heard footsteps.

My heart hammered in my chest as the front door opened. Harlan’s godlike silhouette was backlit, and that was for the best. While fear and mortification coursed through me in nauseating waves, he merely stood there and stared for an excruciatingly long moment.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, sounding surprisingly calm as he opened the screen door. Roger and Ralph darted past him, down the porch stairs, straight to the burger and fries.

“I…I changed my mind. Is that okay?”

During his typical, extended pause, the only sound was the two canine brothers beside me, chowing down on my dinner.

“Well, I’m standing here holding the door open. So yeah, it’s okay. Come on. It’s cold out here.”

Once again, I was the very lucky lady invited into the secret chamber of the world’s hottest, and most reclusive, man. I didn’t care what it meant. I just wanted someone to talk to, and I was pretty sure he needed that too.