AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Eight
Elise collapsed ina heap on her bed that night, just barely remembering to remove her gorgeous green dress beforehand. When she awoke the next morning, her brain slammed against her skull to the beat ofthree drinks on an empty stomach? You absolute idiot!
Memory of the night before filtered through the synapses of her mind. She had been out with Wayne—last name still unknown. Wayne, the coffee shop owner. Wayne, the Midwestern hunk of a man. Wayne.
But then, she remembered what he had said about her father, Dean Swartz. She furrowed her brow, gripped her phone, and typed in the name with delicate fingers. The first link that came up was a real doozy.
Real Estate Mogul Buys Majority of BnBs and Hotels on Mackinac Island
“Real estate mogul?” Elise shook her head, violently against her pillow and scanned the other articles. “No. That can’t be right.” But after a few more clicks, it seemed true. Whoever this Dean Swartz was, he was rich. Insanely rich. The kind of rich that even Californians would be mesmerized about.
Elise flicked through the diary again and found the old photograph of this man, the late-‘70s version of Bradley. How could it be that this man, this handsome, carefree man, had made so much money in something as unalive and unsexy as... real estate?
Still, people had to live, as they said.
Everything about the morning felt foggy. Elise stepped out from her bed and scrubbed her eyes. She still wore her underwear and bra from the day before, something she probably hadn’t done since, what? College? Pre-marriage? She dove beneath the showerhead and scrubbed her scalp, as though she needed to get a lot more off of herself than the grime from the bar.
In the shower, she stared at her pedicure and demanded of herself why this had changed anything.
Didn’t this mean that Dean Swartz was nearby?
Didn’t this mean that it would be easier to find him?
Still, there was this lingering memory of Wayne telling her to keep the information to herself—until he figured out what to do.
But why would she allow some (admittedly handsome) stranger to help her with something so personal?
And what did he have to do with Dean Swartz?
Elise grumbled as she dressed. She blinked tired eyes into the mirror and decided with a light shrug not to style her hair. She had seen a nearby kayak rental place and decided what the heck? She would take to the open sea. Er—open lake.
When she appeared at the breakfast table, Connell marched over from the front desk to sit with her. She piled her plate with essentials: eggs and cheese, mushrooms and potatoes and even a scone. What did she care? She was hungover. She needed it.
“You got in late!” Connell said.
This annoyed her all the more. “How did you know that?”
“I can hear the door open and close, and you’re the only guest,” Connell said. “I guess I figured that was you. But it occurred to me as strange, since I don’t think you know anyone on the island. What were you up to? What did you do?”
Maybe in another sort of mood, Elise would have found these questions only peculiar, almost welcoming. Just now, however, she found them horribly annoying and intrusive. She nibbled at the edge of her scone, turned her eyes toward the water, and said, “I just went out for a drink. But now, I think I might take a kayak out.”
Connell tried to get up with her. He said, “I could come with you if you want.”
But Elise shook her head almost violently. “I would of course love that, but today isn’t good. I just have to think about the um—about the screenplay.”
Connell gave her a knowing smile. “Of course. I understand. You’re probably always at work.” He tapped his head with a finger.
“That’s right.”
Elise walked along the water’s edge, toward the selection of brightly-colored kayaks lined where the sand met the long strands of bright green grass. A kid in his early twenties allowed her to pick whatever kayak she wanted, then told her she could pay after. He seemed a little stoned. Maybe she did, too. Maybe they’d both just had one too many Rum Runners. In her case, just one had been more than enough.
Out on the water, she hardly had the strength to sweep her paddle across the water. The light reflected beautifully across the subtle waves, and she turned her eyes toward the horizon, where a number of sailboats streamlined forward, filled with direction and purpose. She felt entirely, unlike them.
She kayaked for a little over an hour, just until she brewed up a slight sweat. Back on the beach, the kid she had rented from told her she looked about a hundred percent more alive than she’d been beforehand.
“Thank you? I think,” she said.
As she walked back to the Willow Grove BnB, she turned her thoughts back toward Dean Swartz and her “mission.” Wayne had told her to keep quiet, keep the story of her mother to herself for now. But why would she do that when she had come so far—and he was probably just a few miles away from her? She had never been closer to the man in her life.
