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Forrest hadn’t been impressed with her tale. That was also when he’d left for Nebraska. He’d come home once, after he’d paid to have the hangar built north of town, where his plane was stored. Until nine months ago, he’d only used that hangar once. That had been enough.
He was here now, and had poured every bit of his savings into refurbishing the Plantation. For the first few months he’d completely closed the doors and worked right alongside the men he’d hired, installing the bowling lanes and the billiards room and repairing things that had been neglected for too long. By February, he’d reopened, and although it had taken time for people to enter the doors, skeptical of what was behind them, the novelty of the bowling alley finally won them over. There was only one other alley in the state, in a hotel in St. Paul that was also known to host one of the state’s largest gambling rings and therefore didn’t allow the average person much of a chance to visit.
For the most part, his investment was paying off. The Plantation was now making enough money to pay its employees and utilities, but it would be years before Forrest saw a return on his money, which left him in a predicament—even without Galen’s release.
They’d stopped near Jacob’s bedroom door and as the man opened it, he asked, “You are going to talk to Roger, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Forrest replied. Having to involve the Nightingales tore at him, but Galen’s pending release didn’t give him much choice. All the ground he’d gained since coming home would wash away faster than a mudslide once Galen hit town. Whether he was peddling opium or not, Roger Nightingale’s influence was his only hope for keeping Galen where he belonged.
“Make it soon,” Jacob said. “Your mother called tonight. She wants you to call her back in the morning.”
Chapter Five
Up until today, Twyla had never realized why Norma Rose had cherished Sundays. Today she’d determined it was because Norma Rose had been tired and needed a slow day to recuperate. Twyla had a throbbing blister on one heel, caused by her shoe, a bruise on her hip from when Palooka George knocked her over on the dance floor after he’d had a few too many highballs, and a headache that said she’d do about anything to not have to get out of bed this morning. It had only been a few hours since she’d collapsed upon the mattress.
She had hauled herself up because this was what she wanted, and she wouldn’t complain. There was no large party to worry about today, but the resort was full of overnight guests and it was part of her job to oversee everything ran as smoothly today as it had last night.
That, however, was a remarkably easy feat. All the time and effort Norma Rose had put in over the past few years had paid off. Housekeeping staff already had the resort as sparkling clean as ever, including the guest rooms and cabins that needed attention. The cooks had meals filling the dining room tables or being carted off to rooms and cabins—room service was just one of the luxuries people bragged about after staying here—and the phone, as it was Sunday, was quiet.
After making her rounds and discovering Josie had already taken care of the few small incidents that had appeared, Twyla retreated to the balcony, where tables had been set up for anyone wanting to enjoy the lake view while partaking of their breakfast.
In the serenity of the warm sun, with the quiet murmuring of the few people inside the dining room and the fresh scent of the lake flowing on a cooling breeze, she consumed a bowl of oatmeal with cream and brown sugar and a full glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Not the most elaborate of breakfasts, but her very favorite.
The food helped her headache. The loose-fitting yellow-and-white polka-dot dress covered the bruise on her hip without any chafing, and she’d pushed the back of her shoe down to prevent further irritation to the blister. The day was looking up, and she was going to appreciate it being Sunday, too. A bit of downtime never hurt anyone.
Her gaze swept down the hill to the lake, where a couple walked along one of the docks. A boat tied to the end bounced lazily upon the water and Twyla watched as Ty assisted Norma Rose into the craft after he’d climbed in himself. Norma Rose untied the boat while Ty took an oar handle in each hand and started paddling away from the dock. The rowboat gradually swung around and Ty started paddling forward, toward the big island in the center of Bald Eagle Lake.
Twyla closed her eyes. Although she looked at it every day, it had been years since she’d been on the island. She hadn’t set foot there since the days when Forrest used to row them all over to the shore. In their youth, they’d spent hours looking for treasure buried by some ancient and quite imaginary pirates.
