Lake Bittersweet

Chapter 2

The gorgeous woman who used to be everyone’s little sister finally smiled at him. Gina’s grin was all-encompassing, spreading from her dark flashing eyes to the merry curve of her lips. Even her rambunctious curls seemed to get onboard.

Kirk’s heart glitched a little. Weird. He’d never thought of Gina as anything other than a kid, sometimes irritating, sometimes endearing.

“I’ve changed, mostly. I’m not that feral little girl anymore.”

He wasn’t so sure he believed that. “No more snack battles?”

“Okay, there was one, but it was more of an ambush involving a breadstick and a bad date. A different one. There’ve been a few.”

“I’m sure he deserved it, whoever he was.”

“Honestly, he really didn’t. I was in a mood. He was collateral damage.”

“Was there actual damage?”

actualHe moved the jar of breadsticks even farther away, making her laugh. That was how she’d been as a child too, always ready to abandon her grudge and break into laughter.

“Slight abrasion,” she admitted. “Also, he crosses the street whenever he sees me now.”

Her phone buzzed and she tugged it from her purse. As she scanned the message, he took a moment to slide his gaze down the curves of her body in that red dress. “Gotta go,” she said as she dropped the phone back in her purse. Then she caught the direction of his glance and glared at him. “Were you checking me out?”

“Is that…no…maybe…sorry, I just haven’t seen you in a while. Just trying to catch up.”

“Well, catch up to this. You have a lot to answer for, Kirk Williams. I don’t know why you’re back after all these years, but you shouldn’t have just left like that, with hardly a goodbye. My family was really sad about it.”

He frowned slightly. Georgie had never mentioned that, and he’d kept in touch, at least sporadically.

“Then you got famous and you never bothered to so much as call. My poor mother.”

He hated the idea of hurting Anna Moretti’s feelings, but then again, he had sent a gift basket almost every Christmas. Chocolates, fruit. It wasn’t as if he’d forgotten about the Morettis. They’d practically raised him from the age of about fourteen. Mario Moretti had encouraged him to join the military, Anna had made sure he was fed when his own father forgot. George and Frank and Mario Jr. had treated him like another brother. And Gina…well, she’d always been around, trying like the scrapper she was to keep up at hockey or paddling or climbing trees.

“I was planning to stop in. Do you think they’d mind?”

Gina’s eyes flashed to his, then her dazzling smile returned. “You’d probably make my mother’s entire year if you did that. She still boasts about you, even though you ditched us.”

Ouch. Maybe he needed to amp up the chocolate tribute.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude if they’re all wrapped up in the holidays. I remember how crazy things get at the Morettis’ this time of year.”

At the mention of the holidays, Gina made a sound like a soft groan. “Wait, are you here through the holidays?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Then I hope you didn’t make any other plans, because you know Mama will want you at our house. And since you ghosted us—”

“I get it, I get it,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m in.”

Secretly, he had been assuming the Morettis would include him in their Christmas celebrations. His best Christmas memories came from the time he’d spent at their place. But he hadn’t realized they were hurt and angry with him. He’d have to do something about that, right away.

The waitress appeared at Gina’s elbow with a credit card slip to sign. Damn, her loser date hadn’t even paid the bill? Kirk wished there was some graceful way he could take care of it, but Gina would probably empty a bottle of wine over his head if he tried that.

She must have caught his expression, because her cheeks flushed as she signed.

“Dating is the worst, isn’t it?” he said, going for the sympathetic approach. “Sometimes I think there ought to be a prenup before a date. Everyone knows in advance who’s paying, what the budget is, and what the expectations are for afterwards.”

The waitress burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, I absolutely love that idea!”

Gina chuckled too, but the waitress’ laugh drowned her out.

And then she kept talking. “The bartender just told me who you are, I can’t believe Kirk Williams is back in Lake Bittersweet. Do you think I could get your autograph?” She edged past Gina and handed him a bar napkin.

Gina backed away, giving them space, as she teasingly mouthed “eBay” at him.

He quickly signed the napkin, then tried to jump to his feet to catch up with Gina before she reached the exit.

Which was when he remembered he needed crutches to go anywhere, and by the time he found them propped under the bar top, Gina was gone.

* * *

While the bartender ran his credit card, Kirk propped himself on his crutches. The waitress hovered nearby.

“Is that from…you know, the Incident?”

“No,” he said. “More recent. Yeah, I know, I’m a magnet for trouble.” He took his credit card from the bartender and slid it into his pocket.

“Well, if you need anything, any help or…I mean, I get off in a few hours.”

He settled the crutches into place, his sore muscles groaning. This wasn’t his first stint on crutches; as he’d told the waitress, he was a magnet for injuries. Probably because he tended to throw himself into situations without thinking them through. He could probably use help once he got to the house he was leasing. But he didn’t want help. He wanted to get through this glitch in his life and get back to work.

wantThe problem was that he’d inadvertently played the hero once again, and back in Boston, it had been big news. He’d been jogging through the park when a small child had toddled into his path. Of course he’d stopped to check on him, not realizing he was interrupting a k********g attempt. Not just any k********g attempt, either—the boy was the son of a local baked bean heiress. He’d fought with the kidnapper and wound up with a broken left tibia and tons of local media attention.

Too much attention, some of it from overenthusiastic fans. Messages poured in from all corners of the internet. They kept calling him a hero, which made him so uncomfortable. The poor kid had literally stumbled into his path. How was it heroic to do what anyone would have done?

But one of the messages had come from the sister he hadn’t seen in over twenty years. Her profile photo showed that she still had the same vibrant red hair and cheeky grin that had earned her the nickname “Sassy.” She wore cats-eye sunglasses and was blowing a kiss at whoever was taking the photo.

We should talk. Meet in Lake Bittersweet?

We should talk. Meet in Lake Bittersweet?That sounded better than dealing with media requests and autograph-seekers and intrusive fans. Until all the fuss died down, here he was.

“That’s a really nice offer, thanks,” he told the waitress. “But I’m fine. I’m getting used to these things.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where I work.” She winked at him and returned to her customers.

“Thanks again.” He crutched his way through the tables, bracing himself for more greetings from people who remembered him. But none came.

That was exactly why he’d chosen the Loon Feather Bistro, because he hadn’t expected to see anyone he knew here. Most Lake Bittersweet locals only went to the most expensive restaurant in town for the most special of all occasions. Fiftieth anniversaries, lottery wins, record trout catches. It was mostly tourists here.

And, apparently, bad dates with beautiful Morettis.

Seeing Gina had been a shocker. When he’d first noticed her, he literally hadn’t recognized her. He’d simply appreciated the curly-haired knockout in the red dress. Eyeing her date, he’d wondered if they were a long-time couple or if it was a proposal situation. He was checking the mystery woman’s hands for rings when his gaze followed an enormous forkful of food from her plate to her mouth.

That was when he realized her face was familiar. It was the same face he’d seen covered in peanut butter smears from the sandwiches Mrs. Moretti sent with them on their canoe trips. He’d seen that face getting stuffed with popcorn on movie night in the Morettis’ den.

It was freaking Gina Moretti, wearing the hell out of a red dress.

Had he ever seen her in a dress before? Never. Okay, maybe on Sundays, when the Moretti parents dragged their clan to church. But not a red dress, not a dress that painted every curve with seductive allure.

Apparently that was what happened when you left town. People grew up. Scrappy little gap-toothed kids turned into stunning women.

When he reached the car he’d rented, he stuck the crutches in the backseat and hopped on one foot to the driver’s door. It was awkward, of course, but he knew how incredibly lucky he was. The child’s kidnapper had been armed, but his wild shots had missed. If Kirk had gotten shot, that little kid might not have gone home.

Even his injury wasn’t too bad. At the rehab center, he’d gotten close to an older woman who’d gotten her leg amputated above the knee. Along with the physical therapy, she was working on loving “Lucille,” as she called her stump. He, on the other hand, would make a full recovery, if he did his PT and didn’t do anything reckless. Yeah, he was lucky. Not a hero. Lucky.

He programmed the address of the house he’d rented—one of the summer vacation homes—into the car’s GPS. It had been so long since he’d been to Lake Bittersweet, he didn’t trust his memory. As he drove, he decided he’d better call George before Gina spread the word that he was in town. He and George still kept in touch. The only reason he hadn’t told him that he was coming to Lake Bittersweet was that he wanted to keep it quiet. He didn’t want any reporters trying to contact him here. Or, God forbid, any of the fans who knew every word of his book and lurked outside his building wanting to talk.

“Gina told me,” George said as soon as he picked up. “Sneaky bastard, I’m not even mad. Good to have you back. Where are you staying? You can stay with us. You gotta stay with us.”

‘Us’ meant him and his boyfriend, Otto. Georgie had come out to his family a few years after Kirk left, and if Kirk had one regret, it was that he hadn’t been around to help him through that. He hadn’t been all that surprised, even though George had never opened up to him about it. Maybe he hadn’t been ready, but sometimes Kirk wondered if George just hadn’t trusted him enough. Or maybe he figured Kirk had enough problems of his own.

Which he had.

“Thanks, but I rented a place. Big expensive one on the lake. It has a home gym and a pool. It’ll be good for my rehab.”

“Yeah? How’s that going? Is that why you’re here? Don’t they have better rehab places in Boston?”

Trust George to give him the third degree. He was a lawyer, after all. He didn’t miss much.

“I just needed to get out of town for a while.”

“You have to spend Christmas with us,” George said firmly. “None of us will survive the Mama Moretti meltdown if you don’t.”

He thought about Gina’s accusation that he’d hurt George and the whole family by not being in touch. George gave no hint of that. Maybe Gina had been exaggerating. She loved drama; the whole family did.

“Nice of you to ask. Good thing, too, since I already bought presents for everyone.”

George laughed. “Smart man.”

“But I have to start over with Gina’s present. I got her a slingshot like the ones we used to make, except not made of sticks.”

George chortled. “Actually, she probably wouldn’t say no to that.”

They both laughed, but Kirk felt a twinge of…something…that they were laughing about Gina. Teasing the Moretti brothers’ little sister had been harmless fun that he’d joined in on…but how had it felt for her? She’d always either laughed or punched someone in the nose or stormed off in a fury.

He turned off on the winding one-lane road that led to the fancy summer houses. So different from Edgeview, where he’d grown up. That neighborhood was all the way on the west side of town and he had no intention of going back there. That part of his life was over.

As he cruised along Lakeshore Lane, he peered at each stately home as he passed by, seeing no lights anywhere. Good. He’d probably be the only person on this side of the lake. Some peace and quiet was exactly what he needed.

“That was the last thing I expected to see, little Gina on a hot date at the Loon Feather.”

“Well, get used to it. Everyone’s trying to set her up these days. It’s a whole thing. Frank is pissed that she didn’t like his workout buddy. He wants another shot, says there’s some bartender from Braddock that she’ll like. But she told him he’s lost setup privileges for the next year because this guy was so bad. It’s his own fault. Frankie never learns not to mess with Gina.”

Kirk appreciated the affection in George’s voice when he talked about Gina; much different from the little sister-big brother dynamic he remembered.

“Why does Gina even need a setup? She’s gorgeous. I didn’t even recognize her.”

“Oh, she doesn’t. Gina never has any trouble meeting men. But they never last long so she’s decided to broaden her horizons. She might be trying to get Mama off her back too. Don’t we know it’s our sacred duty to be fruitful?” He mimicked Anna Moretti’s dramatic complaints with so much accuracy that Kirk had to laugh. “I keep telling her I’m a fruit so I’m doing my part. Doesn’t seem to help.”

Kirk laughed as he checked his odometer, which he’d set when he’d first turned onto the lakeside road. Exactly three miles, bingo. “Looks like I’m here. I’ve got to find the keypad and get myself settled in.”

“Good luck, and call me if you need anything. Damn, man, I can’t believe you’re here. You’re coming over for dinner, okay? Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’ll check in soon,” Kirk answered vaguely. As much as he wanted to see his old friends, he knew that as soon as he did, more would surface. He’d be pulled into the social life of Lake Bittersweet and there would be no escape.

Not that he minded being social. But being back in Lake Bittersweet was a big deal for him. So many memories lurked around every corner. He needed to take this slow. He was still a little shocked that his sister Sassy had suggested meeting here. She’d left long before he had.

He pulled into the driveway of the Mason place. Jerome Mason owned a high-end security firm. The house had top-flight security systems everywhere. Cameras covered every inch of the property and an invisible electric fence protected the perimeter. In the summer it was deactivated, since people in Lake Bittersweet tended to cut across the corners of shoreside properties to reach the lake. But Mason had told him how to set the perimeter alarm, and he intended to do it.

A complicated algorithm changed the passcode for the security system every couple of days. He’d been given a cheat sheet so he never got locked out. It was in code too, just in case.

Normally he would have considered such extensive security to be paranoia. He’d served in Afghanistan. He’d nearly died in that ambush. He’d learned how to handle the adrenaline rush of fear. He certainly wasn’t afraid of the residents of the peaceful lakeside community where he’d grown up.

But with all the over-the-top media attention, he wanted a safe haven. He wanted to hole up somewhere quiet and peaceful and very, very different from the Edgeview hovel he’d grown up in.

He might be back in Lake Bittersweet, but he wasn’t going back to the kid he used to be. Could a state-of-the-art security system take care of that too?

It took him a few tries with the keypad to get the code right. Finally he heard a click and was able to open the door to his new temporary home. His crutches echoed on the tiled floor of the foyer. He used his phone to find the light switch, until he remembered that the lights were keyed to his voice. He’d actually sent Jerome Mason a voice recording so that he could preprogram it that way.

“Turn on the lights,” he said out loud, feeling a little moronic to be speaking to an empty house.

Bright illumination suddenly filled the foyer. He flung up a hand to protect his eyes. “Dim the lights,” he said quickly. He was plunged into darkness again.

“More light.”

Back to full brightness.

So maybe the “dim” function wasn’t working. Or maybe the computer didn’t understand the word “dim.” This wasn’t a Star Trek spaceship, after all. He considered disabling the whole system, but decided to mess with it in the morning.

He stumped through the house where he’d be spending the next month or so, and realized that it had a few issues. First, it was carpeted throughout with thick gray shag-like carpeting that snagged his crutches at every step. It was like walking through quicksand. The only rooms without the carpeting were the kitchen, bathrooms and the home gym.

Next, the house was huge. It was actually three stories high, and the best bedroom took up the entire third floor—probably for the sake of the views. He’d have to use one of the guest rooms on the second floor, or find a place to sleep on the ground floor. That meant he’d be stumping up and down the stairs a lot—which were also carpeted.

And what about cleaning? No way was he going to be able to maintain this nightmare of a carpet. Was there a special vacuum cleaner or was the house computer in charge of that?

“Vacuum the carpet,” he said out loud.

No response from the security system. Obviously, mundane household tasks were not in its programming. I don’t do windows, he imagined it saying.

I don’t do windowsHis left thigh ached. He needed to do his exercises before he hit the sack. If he skipped even one day, he could feel the difference. Especially after driving, which always seemed to send his thigh into an angry pulsing tantrum.

He decided to leave his bags in the car for the night. The house was supposed to be stocked with amenities such as toothbrushes. He’d deal with everything else tomorrow.

At least the home gym was exactly what he needed it to be. That one room made up for the damn carpet. It had everything—soft floor mats, hard floor mats, parallel bars, a stationary bicycle, a treadmill for when he graduated to that phase, a Peloton, an elliptical, a weight machine and free weights. He also noticed Thera-bands in a variety of colors. Clearly someone here had recovered from surgery and knew the drill.

There was even a massage room at the far end of the gym. If only it came with a live-in masseuse, it would be perfect. And that indoor pool, so blue and inviting with its underwater lights and subtle chlorine scent. I’ll be in you soon.

I’ll be in you soon.He lay down on the softest mat he could find and did some gentle stretching. But as soon as he got horizontal, he felt an overwhelming need to close his eyes. Just a minute of rest, he told himself. Then I’ll get back to work. Then I’ll climb up those stairs again and choose a bedroom with a view and…he was out.