ChapterFive
Driving her sedan the long way from the parking lot to the highway via backroads and then exiting from the ramps, might have been a poor choice. Ashley didn’t really need more time to think about her actions or, more accurately, inactions. Her chosen path provided sixty uninterrupted minutes of consideration.
When Christopher had told her his idea, he had been so cute and calm. She remembered everything she loved about him. From the way his eyebrows drew into a solid line to the firm set of his chin, he was his most adorable on a mission. Maybe to others he was intimidating, but not to her.
He had hardly aged, his slim and trim figure still taut in his tailored suit. All those years of sitting behind a desk all day had not affected him physically. He must have maintained his running routine.
She watched enough rom-com movies to picture bumping into him under the guise of following her own exercise regimen. She’d wear something cute, tight, and short and strike up a conversation. Anything for a repeat of the way he looked at her.
When he had stared at her mouth, his eyes held a simmering heat, like melted gold.Good.She wasn’t the only one all too aware of the other. Using their attraction for her purposes would only burn them both. She’d let her mind wander and forgot the important thing: he stood in her way.
For the moment, she didn’t have any other option besides following his lead. While she never lacked an idea, she wasn’t ever sure of the response and effectiveness of a plan before she moved on to the next. She had never trivialized her time by considering outside perspectives.
To secure her future, however, she needed a different approach. She needed to listen and learn first. If the town really didn’t like Christopher, maybe her comment about waiting him out wasn’t so far off base. Besides, she had enjoyed a hot meal, a soft bed, and standing under a warm shower. She wasn’t eager to leave the comfort of the Inn.
And he wasn’t half bad at laundry. She’d be tempted to give him the Victorian nightgown for a cleaning if she hadn’t tossed it already. A shudder shook her from her head to her toes. When she had picked out the garment, she had no idea she’d nearly die in it. She wasn’t wearing nightgowns ever again.
He might suspect foul play among their neighbors, but she knew better. The lighthouse was most definitely haunted. After packing her bags, she dressed, reapplied her makeup, and strolled to his office.
If she’d been worried her pink, seersucker sundress, espadrilles, and wavy hair tied with a thick, satin ribbon had been too much, she reveled in the appreciative glint in his eye. The slow rake of his gaze over her figure was like a caress. As long as she could throw him off track, she had a chance. The power dynamics between them might be more evenly distributed than she realized. Or they reached a new level of personability in their estrangement.
He had recollected himself, created a momentary diversion, and whisked her off the property in his car, dropping her at the parking lot. She had almost convinced herself he intended to throw her into the bushes like an unwelcome guest on a 90s sitcom. His frown upon taking in the state of her vehicle almost had her questioning her nerve for the whole endeavor. She couldn’t keep sweating through her clothes whenever she needed to fetch the vehicle. She’d have to deal with his opinion with a solid dollop of her own instinctual snobbery. Old money wasn’t flashy.
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel of her little sedan. The same vehicle she’d left Loon Lake in. It was a little beat up after parallel parking in various urban locations for the past decade. But she still loved it. Her loyalty was unimpeachable. If he didn’t understand that, then more fool him.
She signaled and turned onto the drive leading to the front of the Inn. She hadn’t asked him what he’d been up to for the past decade. Work was the obvious answer. The likelihood he’d found another woman in their tiny town to replace her was slim. Ten years was a long time.Should I worry? Had he strayed from our vows?
Surely, the vague, faceless female wouldn’t want to live in a studio apartment inAshley’sfamily business. Wouldn’t she be worried about the ghosts? Or, at the very least, aware she’d be subject to constant comparison?
Only if I have any loyal friends left at the Inn.
Ashley slowed the car and parked in the circular drive, leaving the engine humming as a valet approached. From her quick tour through the office and apartment last night, she had spotted no stray hair ties or discarded garments strewn around the place. Not that another woman would be so blatant about her presence, per se, but she’d have to know she was a mistress and want to leave some sort of evidence of her existence behind, right? Like marking her territory with a lacy bra or pair of high heels? Were all mistresses inherently as sexy as the women on soap operas?
Unless it’s Elise McKenna.
If Ashley hadn’t parked, she would have rolled the car into a tree. Her heavy limbs stopped working. A shudder wracked her body. The town’s ice queen, and the only potential rival for her husband’s affection, wouldn’t waste her time being messy. Oh no, Elise was cool perfection.
Ashley had never been a fan of the other woman’s staid demeanor and vice versa. Thrown together often because of their age and the limited number of females, the pair had never warmed to each other. No amount of cajoling and sleepovers had worked. To her father’s chagrin, Ashley had preferred to spend her time wreaking havoc with her sidekick, Christopher.
Christopher had often tried to include Elise in their schemes and games. He brought her up in their childhood conversations often. He’d always had a soft spot for the practical, serious Elise.
Ashley had no idea what might have happened during her absence. Perhaps, with his pushy wife gone, he had finally found the right moment to pursue something with Elise. No. Ashley gritted her teeth and willed her imagination to stop. She had her own twisty road to destiny, and it started now. The other woman would find herself out of luck.
The valet opened the door.
The young-ish-looking man in a crisp white shirt, black tie, black vest, and black pants waited patiently outside as she swung her legs out of the vehicle.
He extended his hand.
She didn’t recognize him.
“Are you a guest, ma’am?”
Ma’am? She glanced in the rearview mirror. Hadn’t she done a decent enough job with her makeup to hide the fine lines around her mouth and the bags under her eyes? Her concealer was a little cakey. Her shimmer eyeshadow was thick.
She pressed together her lips, refreshing the color and her resolve. “I am the owner. Mrs. Hale-Lewis. Please have a bellhop grab my bags from the trunk.” She lifted her chin and accepted his help out of her car.
The youth widened his amber eyes but bowed and extended her a claim for the sedan. He gestured for a bellhop and popped the trunk. “Very good, Mrs. Hale-Lewis.”
