He made his choice and would gain nothing by trying to rewrite the past. He could only go forward. And hope she moved on with someone he could stand.
ChapterSeven
As Ashley climbed to the top of the hill, she stumbled. Righting herself, she braced her hands on either side of her waist. Huffing and puffing told her more about her physical fitness than she cared to know. Of course, struggling in a nice outfit only added to the drama.
She was glad she’d put on sneakers before setting off from the Inn to her destination. The highest point in town was roughly a quarter of a mile east of the resort, overlooking the lake, and belonged to her family’s property. The Hales had claimed a large portion of Loon Lake, selling parcels over the century but maintaining this secluded patch and the boardwalk as the farthest reaches of the empire.
Her dress clung to her back. Sweat beaded on her brow. She should have changed clothes. Once he had suggested the same, however, she refused. The dynamic between them had shifted. He’d always obeyed her orders. As the unquestioned boss, he expected her to listen to his demands. She bristled.
Conventional wisdom told her she should have swallowed her pride. But she hated that phrase. She wasn’t opposed to benefitting from the intellect of others. She appreciated learning from those who had gone before and avoided repeating obvious mistakes.
What bugged her was the wordconventional.It implied following along blindly to someone else’s standards. She preferred to travel in her own direction and walked away.
She might have wiped that smug look off his face if she’d told him she wanted to head to the cemetery to pay her respects. But she didn’t need to justify her actions. She wouldn’t explain or complain. Relearning how to interact with him would be more complicated than she’d first thought.
The breeze picked up, tickling her cheeks. She gazed at the lake. The light danced on the dark water, making it sparkle despite its murky depths. The brightly painted boardwalk shops added cheer and pop against the otherwise green surroundings. The old sawmill gave her pause.
Alone on its own dock with massive concrete pylons, the building prioritized function over form. The business hadn’t been operational in decades, however, thus finding fault in the argument with its current state. Only the giant wheel was visible from the original structure. The rest of the historic building had been clad in vinyl siding, erasing any character or interest.
In contrast, the lighthouse’s exterior was fully intact and perfect. It had been off-limits for years. No one would glance at it twice. She shuddered. What if she’d been asleep during the fire last night? Smoke inhalation could have killed her, or she might have been trapped if the door caught the flames. She hadn’t considered the danger of occupying the barely habitable space with no emergency alert system before her actions. Not that she was known for her circumspection, but as an adult, she should take more care.
“Mrs. Lewis?” A deep, familiar voice called.
She turned and squinted, raising a hand to shield her gaze as she blinked into the sun.
A large, shaded figure stood in the Hale Family Cemetery.
The hint of stale cigarettes danced on the breeze. Although, surprisingly, she’d never seen the person in question smoke. Groundskeeper Willie was more myth than man.
He stepped into the sun, his silver hair and beard almost blinding.
She rubbed her eyes, smiling as she neared. But he had already turned away, giving her his back as he worked.
At least Mr. Willie remained the same. Ashley found comfort in his typical, quick dismissal.
A wrought-iron fence enclosed the small cemetery plot set aside for the Hale generations’ eternal rest. A rather extraordinarily grand vision of the legacy they’d leave, given all the challenges that arose in the years since and the decades of only children to boot.
“Mr. Willie? Now, you’re using my married name?” Ashley inflected her voice with every bit of teasing she could manage. No one called her Mrs. Lewis. Ever. Not even when she had wanted them to use the moniker. Why did her heart skip a beat at hearing it now?
He stopped at the entrance, widened his stance, and crossed his arms over his chest.
That was probably the best response she’d expect from the often-irked man. She walked toward the entrance, swinging open the gate.
Rusty hinges squealed.
He flinched and pulled out a cell phone. He held the device to his mouth. “Oil hinges,” he said, dropping the cell back into his pocket. Next to a plastic yard waste bin, a pair of pruning shears rested on the ground.
“Cleaning?”
He nodded. “Always. I wondered when I’d see you.”
“I’m a little shocked you’re still here,” she said. And she was.
Mr. Willie had a reputation for working around the clock. Constantly on the prowl, no one knew the Inn’s property better.But he hadn’t spotted me in the lighthouse? She was glad he hadn’t, but something about the oversight struck her as odd.
Christopher gave no indication he learned about her presence from any of the staff, including Mr. Willie. Mr. Willie had been neither her enemy nor her ally. Allowing her to squat in a derelict building was out of character.Unless, he was responsible for the fire? Unless, he wanted me out of Christopher’s way?She swallowed, forcing down the lump choking her.
In his fifties, Mr. Willie was one of the people in the generation between her and Dad. Mr. Willie, as he requested she address him, had joined the staff in her early teens. While he knew her, he never had the best opinion. She’d been too old to leave the impression of a charming child. She’d been nothing but trouble from his first day, creating extra work for him after her escapades with Christopher.
