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Her eyes had obviously spent too long looking in the mirror, because the familiar Y in the road appeared sooner than expected. Norma Rose had to brake quickly to make the turn, and then again as her car bounced over the railroad tracks of the nearby Bald Eagle Depot. Ty had braked, too, keeping a safe distance between their vehicles, and as she entered a stretch where tall and leafy trees hung over the road, making the already dark night denser, she found unusual comfort in the Model T headlights in her review mirror. She didn’t know why, nor did she want to wonder about it.
Several curves later, she turned the final corner and drove slowly up the resort’s long driveway. The lack of rain lately had made everything dry. Most people didn’t understand how easily dust from the driveway entered the buildings and left a layer that had to be wiped away on a daily basis, but she did.
The parking area in front of the main resort building had cleared out considerably since she’d left. Veering around the right side of the big brick building, she wheeled her car into the garage built for family vehicles. Norma Rose parked between the two older coupes that belonged to her sisters and lifted Uncle Dave’s suitcase out of the backseat before she opened the driver’s door.
A groundskeeper stood ready to close the big swinging garage door as soon as she exited, just as he’d opened it moments ago. Norma Rose expressed her thanks with a nod as her gaze locked on the Model T and the men climbing out the passenger side of the car. Ty had driven beyond the main building and along the line of big pine trees that gave the row of cabins on the lakeshore seclusion. He was parked near Dave’s bungalow. Her uncle’s blue Chevrolet sedan was there as well, making her wonder how Dave had gotten to town in the first place.
As she crossed the lawn and headed down the lane, her thoughts faded when she noticed how heavily Uncle Dave leaned on the lawyer as they walked toward his bungalow. Not sure if he was still ill, or just tired, she walked closer with extreme caution just in case he wasn’t done throwing up.
“I’ll put him to bed,” Ty Bradshaw said.
Dave’s bungalow, a small two-room cabin, didn’t hold a lot of hiding cubbies, but it did have a few, and she certainly didn’t need a New York lawyer finding them. She’d already shirked her responsibility by letting the man drive Dave home, and couldn’t do it again. “No,” she said, “I’ll do it.”
Mumbling, Dave shook his head, as if saying he didn’t need anyone’s help.
“I believe whatever he was given hasn’t worn off yet,” Ty said. “Open the door.”
Norma Rose hurried to comply and brushed past the men to feel for and catch the string hanging from the bulb in the center of the room. “His bed’s this way,” she said, entering the back room and finding the string hanging from that ceiling, as well. Light filled the room and she slid Dave’s suitcase under the foot of the bed before the men entered.
As soon as Ty helped Dave onto the bed, her uncle rolled onto his side, moaning deeply.
“I’m no doctor,” Ty said, “but I think he should be seen by one.”
Norma Rose froze momentarily. “He’s that ill?”
“I believe so.”
Torn between getting her uncle aid and leaving the lawyer alone, Norma Rose spun around to give herself a moment to think without gazing at the man who seemed to have grown more handsome since she’d seen him in town. The yellow haze of the lightbulb reflected in his brown eyes, making them twinkle, and her heart skipped a beat. That was all so abnormal it took several deep breaths for her to set her thoughts in order. “You stay here and don’t touch anything.”
Without turning to see if he’d heard, she marched out the doorway and then scurried toward the main building. After ducking under pine boughs, she ran on her toes so her heels wouldn’t sink in the plush lawn that was watered regularly to keep it green. Spying a groundskeeper, she shouted, “Get Mrs. Kasper, and my father. Send them to Dave’s cabin.”
The man waved. Norma Rose turned around and ran back to her uncle’s cabin, once again on her toes, which made the backs of her shoes slip off her heels. She planted her heels and skidded to a stop. The door was still open, and her uncle was being sick again. Backing up a few steps, she held her breath, twisting the chain of her purse with both hands. Anyone would think she’d get over this. She had tried, but couldn’t. Just couldn’t.
The lawyer appeared in the doorway. “Did you find a doctor?”
“I—” The sound of Dave’s retching had her slapping a hand over her mouth.
A hand, Ty’s hand, wrapped around her elbow and the heat seared her skin, yet she couldn’t pull away, or protest when he led her to the end of the walkway.
“What’s going on here?” her father asked, rushing through the trees along with Gloria Kasper, who was wearing her flannel robe, slippers and white floppy nightcap.
Norma Rose was able to pull her arm from Ty’s grasp, and uncover her mouth.
“It’s Dave,” Ty said, now taking a hold of Gloria’s arm and steering her toward the cabin. “He’s in here.”
“What’s wrong with him?” her father asked, glancing at the open door.
“I’m not sure,” Norma Rose answered, although her arm still stung. “Chief Williams suggested someone may have slipped him a Mickey.” She swallowed. “He keeps throwing up.”
Her father gave an understanding pat on her shoulder. For as big and ferocious as most people thought The Night was, Norma Rose knew differently. To her, he was as lovable as the stuffed Roosevelt bear that sat on her bed. Sweet and comforting.
When he wanted to be.
She’d admit that much, too.
“Gloria and I will handle this, honey,” he said. “You go on in inside.”
Norma Rose glanced toward the cabin. It was said Gloria Kasper was a much better doctor than her husband had ever been. Years ago, when they were a newly married couple, Gloria, believing her beloved Raymond was having an affair with one of his patients, started accompanying him on all of his visits, and continued to do so until his death a few years ago. Then, in the midst of the influenza outbreak, Gloria, concerned her friends would be left without medical care, had obtained her medical degree. Since then, she had saved many lives.
“Go on, now,” her father repeated. “Gloria will take care of Dave. You can shoo out the last of the townies.”
The townies—folks that lived all year round near the local White Bear, Gem or Goose Lakes, or in the town of White Bear Lake—were always the last to leave. Especially with the new noise ordinance in town.
The residents of Bald Eagle Lake didn’t consider themselves part of the town and had formed their own community, one with a unique spirit. The resort owners, when dozens of their properties had dotted the lakes, had unified their community a long time ago. The original owners had all formed a gentleman’s agreement of all for one, and one for all, and the pact still held.
“Go on,” her father said, giving her a shove.
Norma Rose was at the kitchen door of the resort before she realized she hadn’t told her father about Ty pretending to be Dave’s lawyer. She turned around, listening. They’d have met by now.
The trees between the resort and the cabins blocked her view, otherwise she might have been able to see the lawyer walking to his car. It wouldn’t take long for her father to get rid of him. Tilting her head, listening for a Model T to start, she stood for several minutes, until it was obvious Ty hadn’t been asked to leave.
Yet. He was probably helping Gloria put Dave to bed or something. Then her father would send him down the road.
Norma Rose entered through the kitchen door and crossed the meticulously scrubbed room. It would have been nice to see the lawyer leave. Then she’d have no reason to continue thinking about him.
In truth, she had no reason to think about him and absolutely no time.
Exiting the kitchen, she turned right and entered the wide hallway that ran the width of the lower floor with staircases leading to the second and third floors at each end. Nightingale’s took up all her time. What had been a small family resort only a few years ago was now one of the largest in the state. It had a grand ballroom—complete with a curtained stage—a dining room that could seat up to a hundred people, three smaller party rooms, several offices and a covered porch that ran the length of the building and faced the lake. All that was on the first floor. The second floor contained family and employee living quarters, as well as guest rooms like those on the third floor.
The larger the resort became, the more there was for her to do. This was the first year they weren’t adding to the main building. The improvements were focused on the twenty bungalows intermittently placed around the property. Her grandfather had built most of them during the last century, when people started commuting to the lake area on the train. The vacation spot had been popular before the rail lines had been laid, but boomed when what had been a three-hour wagon ride became a twenty-minute train ride.
Many of the older resorts had closed up over the last twenty years, with people buying up the acreage to live here year round, but since Prohibition, the resorts had started to thrive again. So had the trollies coming from the cities. The streetcar company also owned the amusement park, giving people a destination as well as a way to get there.
